Happy Hour is Dangerous for Keay

The night had been slow for Keay… He hadn’t found any of the items that he prided himself so much on tracking down for Greedy collectors. Sighing, the Pride-Bun had decided to change his objective for the night from business to pleasure and found himself walking down a familiar alleyway. The Wonderland Casino came into view, and he chuckled to himself. He always found himself wandering towards the massive establishment on nights that went a bit lackluster. But it wasn’t for the spinning roulette wheels, slots, or possibility of wealth that drew him. No, even he wasn’t so self-deluded in his pride to think his bad luck would just reverse itself at the door of this particular den of debauchery. Instead what drew him here was The Rabbit Hole: the bar with specialty drinks that drew most of Burrowgatory at least once. Besides, the energy of the place just attracted him, plus the other Succubuns that he could find there were always pleasant company. After all, Hops herself attracted all sorts and was a pleasure to conversate with even on the most dour of nights. 

However, his expectations for the night were completely shattered: it was absolutely desolate.  He blinked and slowly picked his way over to the bar leaning on the bar, cocking his head. “Something up, Hops?” He asked, jerking his head slightly to gesture over his shoulder at the bar with only a few scattered patrons, a handful and a half at best. 

“I’m pretty sure Oleander is having a…” She paused tapping her lips with one of her drink picks. “I suppose you could call it a ‘special sermon’.” She dramatically used her fingers to make air quotes around the last two words and ended her statement with a wink that indicated everything Keay needed to know. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh you know how he is.” She giggled, rolling her eyes at the thought and casually taking a sip off a slightly overfilled drink she had just finished. Keay rolled his eyes at her, he knew basically none of the patrons would mind; but he’d had enough conversations with the bubbly Gluttony-Bun to know that this was exactly why she was in her predicament in the first place. 

“Kind of, but I’ve never been a particularly religious type.” He mused. Of course he had heard stories about Oleander.. With his trade he’d heard stories about most of the big names if not met them personally at this point. However, the most he’d gotten were snippets of hearsay about the lecherous priest so it was nothing that he could as fact in good conscience. 

“Oh! Then I guess I know what we’re doing tonight before you get too trashed.~” She grinned and whisked herself off to deliver the three drinks already present on her tray.

Keay spluttered and called after her, “Hey! I do not get that thrashed on the regular!” His accenture slipped into the British he’d acquired while with his litter-mates, the peculiar ‘Northern” tinge very noticeable to those with a keen ear, for just a moment on the word ‘thrashed’. 

He winced. He’d tried very hard to lose that.. Usually it was only a few very particular buns that drew it out of him.. He’d need to get that more under lock and keay - if you know what he means. 

“Oh come on, you know you always wind up leaving here in a blur, Keay.” She smiled pleasantly as she returned, no hint of malice or judgment in her voice or gaze. 

He just sighed and shook his head. The best way to move on a conversation from where you didn’t want it to go with Hops seemed to be a drink order, so he moved on to that stage of the night. It was his usual that he ordered, not too sweet but with enough flavor that he didn’t notice the burn of the liquor enough to deter him from drinking it, “Sinnamon Whiskey please.” His accent still hadn’t fully subsided, and he could see the look Hops was giving him: a mix of confusion and interest. He simply fixed her with a very clear ‘do not ask’ deadpan and moved on with his night. 

To her credit, she did in fact refrain from asking and went about mixing his drink. Due to his own preoccupation with his self-image though, he didn’t notice that she left a very key ingredient out of his drink: the “Hops’ Secret Ingredient” - aka the little extra jeuje that left a lasting mark on the buns that entered The Rabbit Hole and were particularly “blessed'' by Hops. The fact that she always left it out of his drinks - you don’t waste something so precious on lightweights who wouldn’t be “tipping” you for more than one drink after all - would explain how he’d been coming here for years and still hadn’t caught fire.. It had been at least a few hundred Sinnamon Whiskeys after finding it to be his favorite drink on her menu after all. 

She set it before him and before she could light it on fire herself, he pulled out his Zippo and ignited it himself. She squeaked, quickly taking her hand back from the danger zone. “You should warn a girl, Keay!!” 

He grinned at her and watched the fire for a moment.

“If I didn’t know what you did for work I’d almost expect you to be a demolition expert with how much you seem to like fire.” Hops huffed, crossing her arms and obviously showcasing her disgruntlement at his behavior in her bar. 

“Sorry..” He grinned sheepishly, carefully blowing out the whiskey so as to not burn his fur on the first sip. It was however still rather hot when it hit his lips and warmed him all the way through. Almost immediately he felt the liquor hit him, reminding him of how little he had eaten while out on “the hunt” for those precious items which so consumed his waking hours. However, the bar did not provide patrons with an option of edible goods within its doors.. Which meant he would have to make his way to a whole different area of the casino to fulfill that need. Thinking about it for only a few moments made him balk at the very idea.

So instead, he listened to Hops prattle on about Oleander and his peculiar Nun. He tried to brush everything she was saying off as things lacking substance, but the moment she mentioned her own encounter while confessing her sins in the confession booth… Well he couldn’t exactly do that. At that point, his glass was already half empty and he just had to press her for more information. 

Slowly as time passed, he found himself leaning on his hand and drifting in and out of that blurry state of drunkenness which signaled the start of mild memory loss. For most buns he knew - even those who didn’t ascribe to the Gluttony variety - that would have been at least four drinks in, but for him well.. He was barely into the third sip of his second Sinnamon Whiskey. He would feel ashamed, if he wasn’t quite so faded, reaching instinctually for his pack of cigarettes. 

Three more tales in and he was properly sloshed, words slurring and absolutely no self-consciousness about the accent with which he spoke. He was grinning at Hops, absolutely enthralled by her sweetness and clumsy grace.. And it was then that JohnnyCakes sensing the oddness of his bonded Succubun decided to squeeze his way out of the little bag laying at Keay’s feet. Managing to hop up onto the bar, the Phantomile nudged aside their owner’s glass and took its place. Picking up the imp by the handle without a second thought, nearly taking a sip of the little ghostly ‘brew’. Startled, he nearly dropped his precious imp. Luckily, at the last minute he steadied his hand and blinked at the little crying creature staring up at him. “Oh.. hi there, JohnnyCakes…” He slurred, swaying in his seat a bit and smiling even wider when the little imp made a noise of concern. “I know.. I know.. I’m going home soon I promise..” He whispered to the imp conspiratorially. 

Hops simply rolled her eyes, she’d seen this a hundred times before but somehow it didn’t get less endearing. The imp would make sure he got home safe.. They always did.