O U T | The Group Chat

CHAPTER 9

There weren't that many bars in the city but ones that did manage to stand their ground initially thrived almost every night. Alcoholism wasn't exactly a big problem but it wasn't unknown that many people turned to drinks in order to forget about the unfairness coating the world around them. So stepping inside one of the bars in the city center neither Nick or Isaac were surprised to see it packed with all sorts of different people.

It was a rather small establishment. Square tables were packed all around the floor, leaving only thin aisles around them to walk through. Most of the space was taken by a large bar next to which stood a small stage where some band was playing an up-beat jazz tune. The whole place was dimly lit, with lanterns stuck to the walls and some hanging from the ceiling along a stripe of yellow glow that illuminated the floor. The stage had some colorful lights flickering around it and spreading in the fake smoke that was drowning half of the room.

They both made a beeline to the bar where Nick sat on a free stool and Isaac stood beside him, both leaning on the counter. It was long with some empty glasses left discarded here and there, waiting for one of the bartenders to catch a free second and scoop them up to clean. Behind it were rows of sizable shelves with all sorts of different drink glasses covering their surfaces. Under them, stuck to the wall hung a display of alcohol bottles with usable versions of them standing on a second counter that stood behind the one for customers. Three bartenders bustled in the thin space, all dressed in white shirts with black bow ties fastened around their collars. Black vests hugged their chests tightly with same colored pants so long they shuffled along the floor. Among one of them was a tall man with a rather tired face and red hair. At the top of his head a couple of green strands were standing up. No matter how many times he tried to pin them down they somehow wiggled their way out and appeared visible. He cursed it every time, deeming it disastrous for his position in society since it made him look 'so much more stupid and mentally closer to you all dumb fucks'. He'd often wear a beanie but it was forbidden at his work.

Nick flipped through the drink menu, keeping it visible for Isaac as they wandered with their eyes from the pages to the man skillfully pouring some Bacardi into a crystal glass. Finally, as he was done preparing the drink and slid it across the counter to a waiting customer, he followed the crowd with his eyes and stopped upon seeing two familiar faces. He sighed deeply and said something to his co-worker before walking up to them.

"What do you want?" Yumi blessed them with his most uninterested look and crossed his arms.

"Not even a hello?"

"I'm not giving you free shit"

"Well then you're lucky because we're not here for any of that" Nick smiled slyly but Yumi's expression did not change.

"What"

"We may or may not need a favor"

The redhead raised his eyebrows, eyes still beyond indifferent "What do you idiots need?"

"Just so you know, this isn't like some simple situation" Nick said with a puzzling tone.

"What the hell are going on about just tell me what do you want"

"It's actually originally coming from Larry—"

Finally Yumi's stone expression broke in favor of a much more annoyed one "The man, the myth, the legend! Care to enlighten me please — where the hell is he? All I got was a cryptic text basically telling me he's alive and I shouldn't worry but asking me to stay quiet. Next thing I know there two giant white fuckers at my door asking for him" Nick and Isaac's faces both fell in a split of a second once Yumi finished his sentence "What?"

"Did— Did you tell them anything?" Nick asked shakily.

"You dumb piece of shit of course not. You take me for a snitch?" Yumi cocked a brow, studying his friends' appearances meticulously as if searching for a reason behind their strange behavior "I told them I don't know no Larry Croft and that I only live with my cousins Linguini"