LET'S GET WASTED [&] open

[ARGUS]

ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ sᴄʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ

Like the good drunk they were, argus was a common enough face around the joint. enough to have a regular around the bar and know a few of the bartender's by name, typically the one's from early morning bumming the too aggressive drunks. they were on their way to the bay when they spotted the tavern, and a light drink before getting into business (interactions, ugh) would have gone a long way. until argus spotted the kid who sat on one of the stools sitting infront of a bitter seeming liquid that had the same aroma of freshly crushed herbs.

JUNGLE JUICE WAS IT'S OWN KIND OF DRUG, there wasn't much that could be dome about the effects, and unlike booze it wasn't easily diluted by eating. the fact that it was out at all, open like a common bottle of liquor was dangerous, it was how jacob ended up getting high of his horse and getting traumatized - or so the story goes. But it was an essential part pf the place. a right of passage, something that was offered to kids when they grew older. not to some feral child without a lick of knowlege. the fact that the raptor was feral was another thing untested about it. the rite meant to show the owner's biggest fears or most valued desires before their eyes. would it even work properly?

A light glare at the bartender was quick and without fanfare. the quartermaster's own thoughts reflection gabriel's open speech. "Ain't like no common liquor though. stuffs nastier, probably a trick gone wrong"

I LEARNED THE VOICES DIED WITH ME