“JUBILEE!” yells Fresh, doing ‘the dance’. “I have to use the bathroooom!” she howls.

“Keg’s still full,” says Jubilee, knocking on the second keg down that hasn’t even been opened yet. The first one, they had emptied through the four of themselves together. It was enough for each of them to have two steins-full. She isn’t sure about the others, but she’s definitely feeling… something. But right now, that feeling is overwhelmed by the more important biological function at hand. “I think there’s a bucket back there,” says Jubilee, pointing off to the other side of the darkened roof.

“Jubileeeee~!” cries Fresh in distress, not wanting to use a bucket

Fifteen minutes after that, Fresh sits at the table, opting to not talk about what just happened and the four of them essentially gorge themselves on street-food. Usually, Fresh would insist that they eat something healthy and nourishing and especially something homemade, first and foremost. But something about this occasion warrants this kind of food. It belongs to the moment, as much as the stars do to the night.

Fresh feels the world move just a little. She’s never really had much alcohol ever in any of her existences, so to say that she is a little overwhelmed by the feeling is somewhat of an understatement. She does her best to fight down the ‘sea sickness’ by coating her insides with greasy, battered and fried foods.

It really does work surprisingly well.

As for Basil, the priestess seems to be sharing the same strategy as herself. They still haven’t really talked, but after sitting next to each other for a while, the tenseness in her shoulders seems to droop. But Fresh still feels a strange pull inside of her chest and finds her eyes darting over the table now and then to look at the others, at their expressions, at their plates, at their mugs. Jubilee and Shamrock seem to be enjoying themselves, the two of them are engaged in a very one-sided conversation about the dungeon.

“Can you pass those long stick-things?” asks Basil. Fresh blinks, turning her head. “Please?” She nods, handing the basket over to her, a piece of fried fish still in her own mouth.

Fresh looks down at her cup, swallowing the rest of the fish and picking it up. The taste doesn’t get any better, but she does like how warm she feels from drinking it.

Fifteen minutes after that, Fresh scoots her feet nervously around beneath the table in place of twiddling her fingers. The second keg has been opened.

“Anyways, what the fuck was her problem to begin with?” asks Jubilee. Three pairs of eyes turn Fresh’s way.

Fresh takes a large drink of her beer, buying herself a few seconds. Eventually, she has to breathe though and she lowers the cup, foam still sticking to her lips. “I think she just really liked the potions,” she says, uneasily.

“No fucking way!” says Jubilee, leaning in over the table, clearly affected as well. Fresh hadn’t thought about it, but Jubilee is pretty small and doesn’t look like they have a lot of fat on their body. They probably get inebriated much quicker than even inexperienced drinkers like Basil and herself. As for Shamrock… well, she has no idea. He’s just being Shamrock right now. The man simply takes turns shoving food into his helmet and gazing up at the night-sky. “She had to have some kind of weird addiction or something!” they say. “Nobody else went that crazy for them.”

Basil leans in, crossing her hands together and resting her chin on them. “Maybe she really did just like the potions?”

“I doubt it. They tasted like ass,” remarks Jubilee.

“Hey!” argues Fresh. “I made those with a lot of love!”

Jubilee rolls their eyes. “Yeah, I saw you sitting on the floor, tearing those mushroom-caps apart with your bare hands, like some kind of grody street-urchin.”

“Sometimes you have to use your hands!” argues Fresh.

“Ain’t that the truth?” quips Jubilee.

Fresh blinks. “Huh?”

Jubilee laughs, hitting their fist against the table, rattling the plates. Basil does her best to push down a laugh too, but not entirely succeeding. Fresh and Shamrock exchange a look and pass each other the respective bowls of food on their sides of the table as a trade.

Fifteen minutes after that, keg number two is about empty. Fresh is fighting for her life to drink her fourth stein. But she’s noticing that… something is off.

“BUCKET!” she yells, jumping to her feet.

Jubilee holds their arm out, blocking her. “Bucket’s occupied, dummy.”

“Baaaasil~!” cries Fresh. “Hurry up!”

Fifteen minutes after that, the four of them sit around the table again.

“It was so weird!” says Fresh. “I… uh…” she blinks, looking around as she loses track of her own story. “I cried so much when I saw the necklace was gone!” she explains.

“She tore the fucking house apart,” says Jubilee. “Should have seen it,” they say, nodding to Basil.

“I was so scared you guys found it!” says Fresh, grabbing Basil without thinking about it. “It was really bad!”

“Mm,” nods Basil. “That would have been very unfortunate,” she says, thinking.

“It was for the rat,” says Jubilee.

Fifteen minutes pass after that.

“Shamrooock~!” howls Fresh, rubbing her face against the man’s arm. He turns his head, looking at her. “You were so cool! Back wh-”

“What does that mean?” asks Basil.

Fresh turns her head. “It means he was really awesome!”

“Oh. What an odd way to say it.”

“Probably some other-world bullshit,” says Jubilee. This causes Basil to go even deeper into her drunken thoughts. The priestess shivers, holding her arms around herself as the night chill has begun to set in, the desert heat having left for the day.

Fresh blinks, clearing her throat noisily. “I was sure I was going to die and then you were all like -” Fresh narrows her eyes, lowering her voice to a gruff growl. “‘I kill monsters’” she says. “You should have seen it, guys!” she says, looking at the others. “He fought the golem with just his hands for a while too!”

“Excuuuuse me. I was too busy fighting vampires to watch the show,” says Jubilee, rolling their eyes and swaying in their chair.

“I couldn’t get past th-the-the line,” stutters Basil. “But I thought that you were really impress-ess-essive too, Shamrock!” she says, oddly excited.

The man gives them all a thumbs-up and nods. “Sometimes, you have to use your hands.”

Jubilee and Basil howl, falling off of their chairs.

Fifteen minutes pass. Keg three has been opened.

Fresh stands behind Basil’s chair, having wrapped her blanket around them both. “You’re really warm,” remarks Basil, an odd lull and pause between her words.

“I know!” exclaims Fresh excitedly, wrapping her arms more tightly around the priestess as she presses her face into the side of her neck. “I feel like it’s summer again,” she says. The two of them look over to Jubilee and Shamrock who are having an arm-wrestling competition.

“I’m s- sorry about the bear,” says Basil quietly. Fresh bites her. “OW!” yelps Basil.

“Sorry,” says Fresh. “I’m s-s-orry about being dumb and stupid and selfish and dumb and -IOW!” yelps Fresh. Pulling back as she gets bitten in return. “You bit me!”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Basil. “You had it coming.”

“Are we… uh… are we friends again, Basil?” asks Fresh.

Basil turns her head. “We never stopped.”

“It sure felt like it -IOW!” she rubs the spot. “What was that for?”

“I just wanted to do that,” says Basil, wobbling up to her feet. “Bucket.”

“Bucket?” asks Fresh.

“Bucket,” says Basil.

“Bye Bas… Bas… Basil!” says Fresh, squinting her eyes tightly shut for a moment before opening them wide. The world feels pretty wobbly. She feels like a slime in an earthquake. Taking her chance, she gets up and goes over to Jubilee and Shamrock.

“You can do it!” she cheers, cheering for both of them at the same time. To her surprise, Jubilee and Shamrock seem to have a pretty decent matching as neither of them have really lost ground yet. She’d be sure that in a normal case, Shamrock would win a contest of strength like this easily. But maybe the alcohol is having an unusual effect on him, given his ‘personal situation’.

Fresh looks down, her eyes going wide as she sees an exposed cut of Jubilee’s mid-riff, where their shirt had hiked up a bit. “Jubileeeeee~!”

“What?” asks Jubilee, gritting their teeth and turning their head towards her.

“You’re JACKED!” yells Fresh, looking at an exposed, very visible part of Jubilee’s stomach and poking it. Jubilee swipes her hand away with their free one.

“Hey! Personal space!” they bark, returning their gaze to Shamrock. “What the fuck is a jack?”

“No, I mean…” Fresh blinks, feeling the world quake at her feet. “I mean…” she blinks. “BUCKET!” Fresh runs off into the night, heading towards the communal bucket. “Basil~! Hurry up!”

Fifteen minutes pass.

Shamrock and Jubilee had a stalemate and are now taking a short break to drink more before trying again. Basil and Fresh meanwhile have compiled a devious plot to both bite one of Jubilee’s long, almost elf-like ears at the same time and quietly make their approach from the side.

Fifteen minutes pass and then fifteen minutes more.

It’s surprising how quick this has all gone, really. Keg four has been opened. But at this point, Fresh is fighting for her life to even stay ‘awake’, let alone drink any more.

The arm-wrestling competition had to be canceled. Jubilee and Shamrock broke the table. One of the legs on their side of it had given way from their wrongly applied pressure after Fresh and Basil’s attack. The last of the food wasn’t very salvageable, but the steins were. None of them drink anymore though, having been beaten by keg number four.

“Shhhh-amrock!” says Fresh, looking back behind herself at the metal helmet which looks down her way. Surprisingly, she is one of the last ones awake, together with him. Though, ‘awake’ is a generous term. “Shamrock!” she says again, laughing. “Sham- Sham- Sham- Shamrock!” Basil and Jubilee stir. Shamrock sits with his back against the wall and she is sitting with her back against his chest. Basil half-lays leaned back against her chest with Fresh’s arms around her front and Jubilee lays in front of her, being held in turn by the priestess. The blue blanket is awkwardly draped around all of them as well as was possible. She finally got her lap-stack. Sort of.

“Yes?” asks the man.

Fresh starts laughing, bonking her head against his breastplate. “Shammy~!”

“Shamrock,” he corrects.

“Shamalama~ lama~ lam!”

“Shamrock,” says the man.

“Shamilee!“

He shakes his head. “Shamrock.”

“Shamil?” she suggests, grabbing his arm and pulling it around herself.

“Shamrock.”

“Uh… Shresh?” she asks, nesting herself in against his metal body.

“It’s Shamrock.”

“Aren’t you…” Fresh feels her body trembling as a random chill runs through her. Any warmth that she felt before, brought on by the alcohol, has now turned into a deep, saddening cold feeling that is thankfully held at bay by the compensating warmth of her friends. “Don’t you…” she blinks. “Feel, uh, it?”

He shakes his head, tapping against his chest twice with his free hand. Fresh nods, understanding.

“Can I?” she asks, lifting a hand up towards his visor, brushing the edges of the rough, battle-scarred metal, wanting to at the very least reach inside of it to touch him.

“Inadvisable,” he says, softly grabbing her hand and setting it back down. She frowns, but she understands the danger.

“Shampoo!” Fresh laughs, pressing her face against his armor, sure that she is about to sleep now. It isn’t a decision or a choice, she just knows that it’s something that her body has decided to do entirely without her consent in the matter.

“Shamrock,” is all that he says. “Because I’m lucky.”

Perhaps seeing that the situation has been dealt with, or perhaps seeing that the night has now certainly come to an end, Shamrock slowly rises to his feet. Fresh will never quite understand how he did it, as she only feels herself being carried with her eyes closed, but in the next instance of clear wakefulness that she finds herself in for only a brief second, she finds her boots taken off and herself lying in bed together with all of the others, Shamrock included, as he has moved his bed their way.

Basil is laying there, biting Jubilee in her sleep oddly enough. But Jubilee just seems to be knocked out and doesn’t notice a thing, their head resting on Fresh’s shoulder. Wiggling her head to the side, she presses her ear to the suit of armor and listens to the noise coming from inside of it as she falls back to sleep.

Oddly enough, that night, she dreams about buckets.