The Devil's Nest, Monday, August 15, 2021

[texted3times]

Eric was at the bar tonight, enjoying a Manhattan expertly poured by Tiny and relaxing.

Tiny was creating an elaborate three-dimensional castle made entirely out of cocktail olives in a cabinet under the bar.

Eric was very much ignoring that.

The Devil's Nest was open!

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

Marc came in and made his way to the bar. Where he then stared at what Tiny was doing. "None for me, thanks."

[texted3times]

"Olives are delightful," Eric said, "though not, perhaps, in architectural form."

[hasaknightjob]

"I don't want to know why, do I?" Marc said, meaning why Tiny was doing the sculpture in the first place. He had nothing against olives as a concept.

[texted3times]

"I certainly haven't asked," Eric admitted.

[hasaknightjob]

"Not the weirdest thing that's happened in this place," Marc said. He meant the island but it probably applied to the bar as well.

[texted3times]

"And that's why I don't ask," Eric said with a grin. "Until we are attacked by cocktail sword-wielding unhoused olives, I'm leaving it alone."

And there was a sentence that had probably never existed until right then.

[hasaknightjob]

"You did say shit got weird at the end of the semester," Marc pointed out.

[texted3times]

Eric nodded. "Generally, but the island likes us to stay on our toes, too. Invading olives would definitely be unexpected."

[hasaknightjob]

"Maybe the raccoons would take care of it," Marc said. Because sometimes you just had to lean into the skid of living in Fandom.

[texted3times]

"They're more into IPAs than things that use olives," Eric said, taking this at least a little seriously, "but on size alone they should have the advantage."

He took a sip from his glass. "Looking past the part where olives shouldn't move to start with, of course."

[hasaknightjob]

"I was thinking they'd just eat them," Marc said. Sentient olives couldn't be worse than trash, right?

[texted3times]

"Do raccoons eat live food?" He frowned. "Do sentient olives count as live food? Is this why there are so many ethics classes at the school?"

[hasaknightjob]

"I leave ethics for other people," Marc said. Which was one of a multitude of reasons why he'd never be teaching such a class.

[pocketpretzels]

"Mr. Spector," Watts greeted. "Evening." Yes, context clues provided by Steven meant he'd been reasonably sure who this was even when all he could see was the back of Marc's head, but as he'd approached his suspicions were confirmed, noting those differences in posture, dress, and expression.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc shot Watts a curious look. "Do you need him?"

Sure Eric and Tiny were right there, but that was a generic enough question not to be concerned about.

[pocketpretzels]

"At this precise moment?" Watts shook his head. "I do not. As a matter of fact, it was your company I was seeking."

[hasaknightjob]

The curious look was not going away. "Something wrong?"

[pocketpretzels]

"Does something have to be, for me to want to speak to you?" Watts countered.

[hasaknightjob]

"Instead of Steven?" Marc replied in kind.

[pocketpretzels]

"That is why I'm here, at this particular establishment, on this particular day," Watts said.

[hasaknightjob]

Now it clicked. "Steven set you up for this, didn't he?"

[pocketpretzels]

"He told me the night you tend to frequent the place, yes," Watts said. "After I already expressed an interest in having some time to speak with you."

[hasaknightjob]

"Such a pain in the ass," Marc muttered. He meant Steven. "Fine. You got me. Go on."

[pocketpretzels]

"Why is it so difficult for you to entertain the idea that I might want to get to know you?" Watts asked.

[hasaknightjob]

"Because I know me better than you do," Marc replied.

What? Watts asked.