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The Devil's Nest [evening]

Eric was taking special care around the club tonight before they opened: it wasn't that he felt the need to impress Pam, but it was just...nice to have everything appear at its best.

Which would explain why Tiny was stuffed into a black shirt and pants combination instead of his usual attire: even he wasn't going to argue with Eric when he had that sort of look in his eyes.

Eric opened the door and added a tasteful "Welcome, Visitors!" sign to it.

They'd still have to pay the cover charge. There was a limit to Eric's hospitality.

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Pam shuddered a little. "That is not an image I want in my head right now."

"Want a drink to make up for it?" Eric offered.

"One of the pretty people?" she checked.

"As long as you ask nicely," Eric said, "sure."

He didn't really care if she asked nicely.

Asking nicely? They should consider themselves lucky. Or something.

"Well that makes me like this place better," she decided.

Eric grinned to hear that, then added: "Stay away from the other bar. Their band is made up of zombies."

And eww.

"Zombies. Of course. Because what person wouldn't want to be entertained by someone whose parts fall off and smells like a morgue," she said dryly, even for her ~~and maybe she should not be making fun of zombies, just sayin'~~. "I don't know why I'm not already there."

"Why do you think I have a DJ?" Eric asked.

A new one every week or month, but details!

"Any reason other than fucking zombies," Pam said. Really, she would not have jumped to that conclusion and worried about anyone who did. Except for the actual worrying.

"Who even taught them to play music?" Eric wondered. "Yuck."

And this was a yuck from a guy who happily beheaded people.

"I bet they work for cheap," said Pam, like that was a punishable offense.

Eric thought about that for a moment. "Maybe, but the money you'd have to shell out in Fabreeze would be about equal."

"The owner might as well just buy stock," Pam said. "Also, it'd help to grow a brain and not use zombies as your band."

Someone was maybe not getting over this anytime soon.

"Maybe they ate the owner's brain," Eric offered with a snicker.

"...That would explain a lot." Said she who hadn't been in there and was being all judgey anyway.

Well, they were vampires. Judging people for being idiots was what they did.

"How's Shreveport?" he asked. "Have you beaten my Angry Birds score yet?"

Eric had been super busy, could she tell?

Pam shrugged. "Everything's still standing that's supposed to be standing," she said. "And no, I haven't beaten it. But I'm kicking your ass in Words With Friends."

"It's not my fault my tiles currently look like the name of a small Bulgarian village," Eric bitched.

"You could trade some in and lose your turn," she said. "But then my next word is really good."

"Maybe I'll just sit on it for another day," Eric decided. "I'm sure something ingenious will come to me."

Or he was a really terrible loser.

"Or they could create a new word that's entirely consonants." It could happen!

"I keep trying those and you keep stealing all of the good vowels. I keep winding up with AT and TI and that's no way to win," Eric groused.

"I'm not stealing anything. I'm just playing the game that you started." Besides, she did great with words like XI.

"I want a different game," Eric decided.

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The Devil's Nest [evening]

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