Drinks

"To luck, then! May Petunia find the fortune to meet a guy willing to shag her and work with her in the years to come!" The second girl held her shot glass up to the air, and the first one, while hanging her head in embarrassment, followed suit. Ignoring the double entendre, I brought my glass up with theirs, listening to the clink as they connected. Simultaneously, we all tipped our heads back, letting the slightly bitter taste coat their mouths. I held in a cough, feeling the slight burn of the alcohol, but other than that, I was unimpacted by the drink.

The first girl leaned into my vision, an incredulous look on her face.

"Two whiskeys and a shot. You can hold your drink!"

"Eh, it's more like one and a half whiskeys. But yeah," once more, I shrugged, a weak smile forming, "I guess I can."

"Mind if we test your limits?" Without waiting for an answer, she waved at Shaken. "Get us some Bazooka Joes!"

The bartender looked at me with a puzzled expression, but I didn't protest. Seeing my nonaction, he pulled more shot glasses out, preparing our drinks. I turned back to my whiskey glass. The ice was beginning to melt, providing a contrasting translucent pattern to the brown liquid as it became watered down. Not wanting to ruin it even more, I downed the drink, freezing up as the burning sensation made my sinuses sensitive. Placing the glass on the counter, I turned to girls.

"I'm going to head to the restroom real quick."

"Okay, we'll be here," the first one said.

"Not that there's anywhere else for us to go," the second one joked, eliciting a giggle from the both of them.

Spinning around, I hopped off the stool, walking to the right side of the bar into the restroom. Pushing the door open, I was met with the usual public restroom appearance. Out of the three urinals, only one of them looked relatively presentable, and it looked like one of the other ones was clogged with toilet paper. On the opposite wall, the two stalls looked ready to fall apart at the lightest touch, and knowing Shaken's laziness, the glory hole that had been drilled in the wall was likely still untouched. In front of the closer stall, the two sinks and their mirrors were covered in scratches where people had attempted to carve messages onto the ceramic and glass, respectively.

I stepped up to the only decent urinal, letting my thoughts wander as I did my business.

What are those two girls doing here, anyway?

They're obviously students or former students from Manehattan University, considering they referred to me as "Professor."

But why here of all places?

Maybe they're barhopping?

This is probably the worst part of town for two women to barhop around.

Then, maybe they were trying to meet you?

What for?

Research?

That ended a long time ago.

Advice?

There's plenty of better people to ask.

Social desire?

I might be a young professor, but I'm not that young.

Doesn't mean they wouldn't want to be friends.

I don't need new friends.

Whatever. There's one more question to consider, though.

Yeah.

What the hell are those costumes for?

Zipping up my pants, I stepped back, disregarding the flushing handle that had been jammed for as long as I'd been around. Walking over to the sink, I washed my hands, staring at the cracked reflection in the mirror. Unsatisfied by what gazed back, I turned my attention to my hands, watching them dance as they rinsed soap off. Pulling the door back, I returned over to the girls, who were peered over as they noticed my presence.

"Welcome back," the first said.

Nodding in acknowledgement, I examined their outfits. Both wore generically skimpy versions of a school uniform. Their short-sleeved button-up shirts were tied off at the waist, and below their tops were dangerous high skirts, showing off hints of their derriere, held up only by thin suspenders that noticeably conformed to their breasts. Underneath their Mary Jane shoes, they wore thigh-high socks that accentuated their long legs.

"Like what you see?" the second one asked, leaning forward and exposing her cleavage.

I steeled myself, maintaining eye contact. "What do you mean?" I deadpanned.

She leaned back, crossing her arms. "What a gentleman."

Sitting back in my stool, I noticed the new set of baby blue shots on the counter. Picking it up, the drink seemed to be mixed together unlike the B-52 from earlier. Considering its vibrant tint, I would assume it'd be a fairly fruit drink. I put it back down, turning to the ladies.

"What's the story behind those costumes?"

"We're going trick-or-treating," the yellow girl responded, smiling. "Wanna come with?"

I cocked an eyebrow at them. "Aren't you two a little too old to be doing that?"

"Aren't you a little too young to be drinking in a bar by yourself?"

"Not really, but I get your point." My eyes went over to our empty glasses. "Wait, you're going out drunk?"

"It's just a couple shots."

"A single shot of the wrong stuff can knock you out."

"Whatever," she shrugged, lifting the shot. "For this one... to age, I guess. Let's hope Professor Chaser stops nagging young adults like he's an old man."

Rolling my eyes, I joined her and her friend, touching our glasses once more and downing another drink. Beside me, the first girl held her fist to her mouth, a cough escaping her body, as the other one smiled at her.

"You gotta be able to hold your drink before you can find a husband," she cooed, giggling as her friend coughed even more violently.

"You're full of shit," the other one croaked between her wheezing.

"Nuh uh," the first snapped, shaking her head. She glanced over to me. "C'mon, back me up!"

"Well..." I studied the glass, rotating it to watch the remaining liquid spin around. "I haven't had an issue with partners getting too drunk," I lied.

Tipping back the bottle, I took a long gulp, feeling the alcoholic seltzer bubble down my throat. It tickled, and I had to stifle a giggle. Tilting it once more, I emptied the last few drops, placing the bottle over by the several others on the coffee table. Wanting another, I slowly worked my way off the couch, pushing myself up to make my way over to the kitchen. However, I found myself at the other side of the apartment by the office. An uncontrollable feeling of playfulness washing over me, I knocked on the door far too many times.

"Twi-Twi. It's meeeeee..."

Getting nothing in response, I put an ear against the door.

"Hellooooooo...?"

I knocked thrice more.

"Twiiiliiight..."

A sigh. "What do you want, Luck?"

"I looove you..."

Silence. Leather groaned as she leaned back in her chair.

"Just go to sleep, Luck, okay? I'll join you in a bit."

"I looove you... I love yooou so much..."

"Five minutes. Just five more minutes, okay, Luck?"

I mumbled in agreement, pushing myself off the door. Forgetting about the mess in the living room, I stumbled across the hallway into our bedroom, foregoing my sleeping clothes and flopping onto the mattress.

I was out like a light. In fact, I was so out that I never woke up to Twilight packing her bags and leaving.

"Aww, you're no fun!" the first girl lightly jabbed my arm, upset at my unwillingness to join in the joke.

"Whatever," the second one smacked her chest a few times. Suddenly, a beep came from her purse, and she pulled her phone out, reading the screen. "Apple Flora, we should probably get going. You're sister's on her way here."

"Alright." Picking her bag up from the stool next to her, she jumped off her seat, peeking over at me as she shouldered her purse. "Coming?"

"Maybe in another lifetime."

"Get your number?" She shrugged, grinning. "Who knows, maybe someone will manufacture magical age regression?"

Flattered by her persistence, another small smile crawled onto my face. "Maybe once you graduate," I chuckled. Waving, they turned for the exit, stepping outside, though the first girl seemed to have a bit of trouble walking straight.

Once more, I was alone.