The Devil's Nest, Monday night

[texted3times]

"Of course Weres ruined the supply closet," Eric said, stomping out of the room and smelling strongly of alcohol. "Weres are the worst."

He picked up his phone to call Pam and bitch about Alcide as he made a mental list of all of the bottles he needed to replace. (Yes, Alcide wasn't remotely responsible for anything that happened here. No, Eric wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to complain about werewolves. And, apparently, were-elephants. Honestly.)

The Devil's Nest was open, smelled a little like a frat house after a big party, and supplies were kind of limited. Come in anyway. Save Pam from having to hear Eric's complaints.

Comments

[sword_chocobro]

Having been there on Thursday, the faint whiff of blatant alcohol destruction didn't surprise Gladio at all, really, though he might become mildly concerned about the Nest's supply of particularly branded peculiar sodas.

For now, though, he was just sort of scoping things out on his way over to his usual spot with a nod of greeting over to Eric.

"Eric," he said. "How you holding out?"

[texted3times]

Eric rolled his eyes, then flashed his fangs for a second before retracting them again. "I hate Weres."

[sword_chocobro]

"Can't really blame you there," said Gladio, whose grin went slightly apologetic as he admitted, "It was kind of nice, though, having something to hunt again."

Even if having daylight to do it in made it sort of feel like playing on Easy Mode.

[texted3times]

"It was," Eric agreed with a slightly pointy smile. "Even if they wouldn't stay dead, which was annoying."

[sword_chocobro]

"Yeah," Gladio snorted, "like you've got any room to talk on that one. I'd be shocked if there weren't at least a few people out there who wouldn't say the same thing about you."

[texted3times]

Eric smirked. "But I make it charming."

[sword_chocobro]

"I don't know, man," Gladio grinned back with a shake of his headm "Some of those monsters were actually kind od adorable, in a weird kind of way."

[texted3times]

"Well, they didn't kill your soda, so you may continue to think so," Eric allowed.

[sword_chocobro]

"They didn't?" asked Gladio, his expression immediately lighting up a little, his shoulders pulling up with interest. "I was honestly a little worried about that, especially seeing what this place looked like on Thursday. That's great, though! Good lookin' out, werebeasts. Now I almost feel bad for demolishing so many of them."

Almost.

[texted3times]

"They plowed through my entire stock of vodka," Eric grumbled. "Don't feel too bad."

[sword_chocobro]

"The entire stock?" Both of Gladio's brows lifted. "How'd the whiskey hold up?"

[texted3times]

"Better than the vodka," Eric admitted. "They broke the stuff I didn't really like anyway."

[sword_chocobro]

"Surprisingly considerate," Gladio noted, looking impressed, "for manic, bloodthirsty beasties."

Then, a speculative pause.

"How 'bout that piano?"

[texted3times]

Eric sighed heavily and completely unnecessarily, since he didn't breathe. "It's fine."

Ugh.

[sword_chocobro]

And Gladio, who may have been hoping for that answer, had to grin. "Good opportunity to do something to it and blame it on the werebeasts," he noted thoughtfully, "if you ask me."

Usually, he wasn't one for just blatant destruction, but it was hard to pass up the joke when it was there.

"I mean, unless the squirrels blow your cover on radio, which then just begs the question: how's the rum?"

[texted3times]

Eric's smile turned devious. "The rum is in several locations."

Because Eric was smart.