The Stray

2-10: The Official Line

Timothy had only been to one tavern in his life, the one in Redmoon. As a kid, it was something to look forward to on trading runs with mom. He remembered drinking red tea from a beer mug, pretending he was having what mom and granny were. It was funny what memories stuck around seven years later; the faces of his neighbors had grown muddy and hazy, but he remembered his granny laughing as she cheated a whole party of mercs at cards. He remembered the bitterness of the tea, the little chuckle when he'd asked to try the corn whiskey. Huh... I guess I could get one of those, now....

Mandy gave him a skeptical look.

Well anyway, a bar's a bar, anywhere you to. It smelled the same way, of beer and whiskey, of grilling and frying, and of an endless stream or people. They say a really good nose could smell the state of a whole community by breathing in its bar for a few busy hours. Timothy wasn't that good, though; all he could smell was that it was warm and pleasantly full of food. Pictures of a lot of people he didn't recognize hung on the walls, along with shirts and pennants with a Pumpkinhead logo on'em.

There were a few early drinkers scattered about, and a few farmers eating lunch. A few bats and night birds were cheerfully knockin' back purple drinks and having a loud card game. Nocturnals! A pair of... V had called the little one in her room a "game system?" A pair of those, but big, with built-in tapestry screens sat in an open area. He'd have to ask V about Slime Shodown and Famco 3-in-One later, but more importantly was what they were near: a game area with a pool table, dartboard, and a rack of sport axes and knives! Complete with a reinforced and glyphed throwing board!

The bartender, a pink-and-blonde haired cow called Lynn, apparently pegged him as new on sight (something that was really getting old.) Still, she made a few recommendations that helped him hide not knowing what half the menu was. So, soon enough, Timothy and the watchmen (and Buzzy) were seated at one of two outdoor tables, thankfully shaded by a brown umbrella. Lucky for the wolf, they insisted on paying for their own snacks! Whew. That, and the absurdly plentiful cornucopia of food he now had at hand went a long way to easing his nerves. Even Mandy was excited to taste through him!

"Boy, you weren't kidding about bein' hungry!" Amos remarked as Timothy tore into his roast beef sandwich.

Timothy swallowed, barely remembering to one, mind his manners, and two, actually keep his head to gather intel with. "I never do." He crunched on a big onion ring next, and all but cooed at the flavor. "Shadows, Lynn can cook!"

"That was probably her husband, actually." Ella fished out a little block of seasoned, crispy bread from her basket (a crouton, she'd said?) and tossed it high in the air, snapping it up on the way down. "You should try his homemade pickles. He's won Can Fest three years running."

"My auntie will totally beat him this year, though!" Amos happily crunched on half-moons of fried cheese. "No one can keep the throne forever!" Timothy took a hit of his soft cider, as Amos chattered about the virtues of honey-canned fruits. He was interrupted by Buzzy hopping off his head and into the other seat, and bleat-buzzing at him expectantly.

The rat hardly needed Timothy to translate <<Hey, give me some!>> Amos smiled brightly at her, and (after blotting off some of the oil) passed her two wedges on a napkin.

<<"Not for nothin, but are those safe for her to eat?">> Timothy slipped wildtongues into his voice. <<"Only I thought fluffs just ate fruit and grain and sugar.">>

<<I eat what I wanna, wolf!>> The honeyfluff buzzed at him. Amos pet her head.

"It's okay as a treat! Honeyfluffs can have a little milk n' stuff. The little ones sometimes sneak off to pester the rokkatle for milk!"