Layton Drownout 2020

Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Dog and Duck

Summary: Two men. Two glasses. One pub. Who will win in this epic showdown of liver against liver?

There he was. That hideous cyan hat was unmistakable.

"Phoenix?" Hershel adjusted his hat as he closed the pub's door. "What are you doing here?"

Phoenix glanced back over his shoulder.

"Ah," he said when he saw who it was. "Hey, Hershel. Don't worry, I'm fine, I just felt like having a drink."

Confused, Hershel approached and sat at the bar beside him, relieved that the proprietor hadn't allowed the music louder than a background whisper.

"I had no idea you were interested in alcohol," he commented. "I seem to recall you mentioning a preference for grape juice over wine, just as an example."

"Hey, I drink!" Phoenix argued back. "I've just not had anybody to drink with! It's not the sort of thing you want to do alone, you know?"

He traced a finger around the edge of a nearby coaster.

"And besides," he went on, "when you've got a kid, there are certain things you have to learn to avoid. You know that by now, right?"

Hershel nodded.

"Indeed I do," he admitted. "Not only that, but when you have multiple children, each requires a different method of avoidance tailored to their personality. For example, I have to give Des a daily reminder not to cuss around Katrielle, but Alfendi doesn't seem to care one way or the other."

He looked down the polished oak bar they were both seated at.

"I can't help but notice," he said, "that you appear not to have ordered anything."

Phoenix gave him a nervous smile.

"Well, I..." And an equally nervous laugh. "To be honest, part of me hoped you'd come along because I don't have any idea what to order."

To be expected from one unfamiliar with the country, Hershel considered, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Excuse me?" He flagged down the barkeeper. "May we please have two pints of your strongest ale?"

He watched, heart beating a little faster than normal, as two enormous glasses of bubbling amber liquid were poured out and set before him and his partner.

"I must warn you now," he said as he took his up, "the beer on our side of the pond is a good deal more alcoholic than that which you may be accustomed to."

"Hey, I'm cool with that," Phoenix replied flippantly. "American beer tastes like piss."

Hershel flinched at the sudden swearing, and part of him hoped his partner wouldn't notice.

"Well," Phoenix said as he picked up his glass, "bottom's up."

O-o-O

One

Hershel rested his empty glass on the bar while Phoenix slammed his down with a satisfied sigh.

"Man, that hit the spot," he breathed.

"I must admit," said Hershel, "you've never struck me as the type to have an excursion simply for the purpose of inebriation."

"Seriously?" Phoenix scoffed. "Hershel, when I met your brother last week, he tried to scare me off because I look like a goddamn hobo. What about me says I don't go out just to get wasted?"