She accepts the gun. "You payin'?"

"I'm paying."

She gestures at an empty, circular table with three chairs around it. "Good 'nough for me. Don't make trouble."

"Me? Trouble? Never," he says, adopting the most innocent-looking face he has.

She snorts and shakes her head. "Know your type. Sit. What'll you have?"

Zash brings the man to the table and places him onto a chair, but the man perks up when the woman asks for booze opinions. "How about... you give me a bottle of that one?" he says, pointing.

She looks where he's pointing, snorts again, and nods. "Comin' right up, pretty boy."

"Awww, you think I'm pretty?"

"Boutta change my mind about that. Sit down, I'll be with ya in a jiffy."

He obediently takes a seat across the table from the man. "So, what's your name?"

"What's yours?" he counters.

"I am Zavier Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gumbigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andres Charton-Haymoss Ivanovicci Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser," deeeeep breath, "the third!

"But you can call me Z."

The man blinks loooong and slow at that, his eyes sort of losing focus in the middle of it.

Then he shrugs. "Don't got no name. Lost it. While ago. Never" (hic) "got it back."

"Did you look under your bed?"

Hic. "Yeah. Errywhere. Lost for good. Mm."

    Bartender shows back up with an unlabelled bottle and two glasses. "On the house for the pretty boy."

"Whaaat? Hilda you never give" (hic) "me free drinks."

    "Maybe if you cleaned up I would."

"No fair," he sighs, but then he serves himself a drink and downs it in one go.

...then spits it out. "The hell, man??"

Zash was ready for it, though, and caught most of that spat out drink into his own cup. "Water. You get real dehydrated if you just drink alcohol and then tomorrow you'll have a killer headache."

"Hilda, you b" (hic) "betray me??" he whines, but the bartender just laughs and walks back to the bar. The man groans and turns to glare at Zash. "That was a dirty trick, friend."

"You asked me for one drink. Here's one drink."

"Not a drink."

"Drink that water and maybe if you start to look less like you're about to paint me with the contents of your stomach I'll buy you alcohol then."

He grabs the bottle again and serves himself some water. "Fine." He can down the water just as quickly as alcohol, too.

"Deal's off if you drink water so fast you throw up all over me anyway."

"Asshole."

"Is that how you treat friends who buy you drinks?"

Grumble grumble.

"...where'd you get your gun?"