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I had barely stepped into the dark and dingy bar and I was already regretting my hot headed decision to come here. The live music was blaring so loudly and harshly I wanted to leave. Immediately. But I wasn't near hammered enough to go home and pick up my stuff. Which made it time to rectify that problem. Moving through the epileptic catastrophe of lights and across the destroyed carpet that was -god only knows- what color, I made my way to the bar. Sweet, sopping wet with spilled drinks at 7:30. Letting out a sigh I perched myself atop one of the red vinyl topped bar stools, avoiding contact with the oak bar and I waited for the bartender to notice me.

At this point I had to take a deep breath and reassure myself. I. AM. MANLY. That's why I'm here at this manly_bar about to order a _manly drink.

"deep breaths," I muttered to myself. I just didn't get it. Since when did filth become synonymous with being a man? Or this hard rock? Really now? I wouldn't 'drink your blood' in a million years you screaming herpes infested social-

"Order somethin or move," came an aggressive growl, surely emanating from the evil looking overweight badger. I assumed he was the bartender because he was separated from me by the chasm of filth that was the bar. I put on my man voice.

"Everclear. On the rocks. Straight up." He just turned around and walked away. I waited for my drink. Everclear... I was told that's what men drink right? When a man wants to get his dra-nk on? Speaking of men why was overweight manly too? Who the hell decided fat and hairy was a man?

"Hey Keep!" someone to my right yelled. It was an odd voice, too high to be a guy, too low to be a girl, so I had to turn to see who had yelled at the bartender. I hope my badger friend throws water in their face for being so rude. From just her profile I had to say it was some crazy looking white cat chick. Seriously nuts looking. She was as thin as a rail, and all white, wearing a tube top, mini-skirt, and steel toed boots that looked like she had molded them from pure steel. All decked out in black of course.

"What?" the bartender rumbled from a distance.

"Red headed slut!"

"You don't have red hair," he didn't even look up from his glassware to give his response. Wow talk about doing your job.

"Shut up Bruce. Get me the drink before I break your skull." Ha! She wasn't having any of his sass! Yeah, I've switched sides. Who cares if my internal rooting was fickle?

"Yeah, yeah. Thought only dogs were bitches," he grumbled. I was smiling at her feisty banter with the 'keep'. It was then she actually turned to me and I got the full picture of what she looked like, black makeup adorned her pale white face and her left ear had quite a few less-than-safe looking piercings. All in all? 7. She probably would have been an 8.5 or a 9 if she didn't look like she had just stepped out of the loony bin. Plus she didn't have much of a chest. I was more of a face man myself but no boobadge gets you a 9 instead of a 10. That's the rule. A manly rule I might add.

"Ha!" she snorted as she approached me, "if I'd a known there was a red headed slut already here I don't know if I'd a ordered another one." I. Was. Shocked. My jaw just moved up and down on its hinges until I finally recuperated enough to move a red lock of hair out of my eyes and glare at her properly. She just busted out into a full belly laugh. I was gonna strangle her skinny ass, but the mean looking bartender came back with her curious looking drink. "What's the fire crotch drinking?" she asked the bartender.

"dunno, won't give me a straight answer. Thinks he's funny."

"I told you what I wanted. You just haven't gotten it for me!" I huffed, this was getting old. I'm not a fan of getting picked on. I have to start thinking up retorts now, that I can use later. I'm not too great at improving arguments.

"What's he want?" she enquired, amusement clearly playing on her green eyes. The bartender's a fat badger. Maybe 'chipmunk' for him. That'll sting.

"Everclear," I told her defiantly, in my man voice of course. She looked at me and then the bartender curiously.

"He wants a glass," he grunted. "I'll get your bill hail." At least I always have one in reserve for cats. Pussy's a classic.

"Yeah, I have no idea what his problem is," I pouted. Oh shit. Wait! Man voice!

"His problem is that he doesn't want to call an ambulance for you if you're only gonna order one drink. Seriously. Have you ever had everclear before?" she punctuated her sentence by piercing my nice shirt with an extended claw, painted black of course. "That stuff is as close to illegal as you can get. You could probably start a jet with that shit!" Great three holes in my new shirt. I liked this one too. "You even listening to me fire crotch?" That's it. Revenge.

"Next time you call me fire crotch you're gonna find out if I actually have red hair down there pussy." Ha! That was good! But while I was celebrating in my head she just smiled, took a deep drink of her 'red headed slut' and got uncomfortably close to me.

"That a promise?" she whispered into my candid ear, "I only like ones that fight back." Well holy hell that was hot. She may have been a bitch but she was still a 7.5. I'd do her already and that little advance was sexually charged enough to get my blood flowing. No sooner had it started though and it ended as she flopped back down onto the chair next to me. "What do you normally drink dog?"

"Coyote. Not a dog, and none of your business." My short response just seemed to amuse her even more as she sized me up. You know the look. The 'I'm judging everything about you based on your appearance' look. It's not that I was that embarrassed about the way I looked, I wasn't fat or thin or super muscular. I still had residual muscle from the old field events I used to participate in in high school, but I haven't worked out in a while so I wasn't exactly in prime condition. I lacked enough confidence to not have withered a bit under her gaze and try to hide my body from her as best as I can.

"Keep! Get him a," she took another cursory glance at me before belting, "Sauvignon Blanc!" My eyes went a little wide.

"Come on! That's way too sweet. At least let me get a Cabernet." She just smirked again. I couldn't tell if she really was a bitch or if she was actually messing with me in that 'friendly' way. Didn't matter. She's lucky she's an 8 or I would have been so gone by now.

"Knew it," she said turning around. I sighed. At least it seemed the gruff bartender had ignored her. Maybe I should take a lesson from him.

"Knew what?" I hazarded.

"Knew that you'd know what a 'Sauvignon Blanc' was."

"That was what you got from that?"

"Yup, your clothes say it all."

"Oh?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "What are my clothes saying to you?"

"That you're looking for 'Vin et de Saveur' down the street and you took a wrong turn at Albacurky and now you're here. Realizing us heathens existed made you want to kill yourself with everclear. I'm telling you right now though; heroine is a much more fun way to go." I scoffed in return at her ludicrous statement, mostly to buy myself enough time to think of a defense though.

"I didn't walk into here on accident, I came here on purpose. And what's wrong with what I'm wearing for this place?"

"You mean what's wrong with a baby blue, long-sleeve, button up shirt?" she just let the amusement in her eyes and voice drive her point home.

"yeah, exactly," I challenged her.

"Nothing. If you're going to 'Vin et de Saveur'. Well except now you've got a few holes in your shirt." Her smirk met my glare in combat.

"Fine," I gave in, "you show me what's 'appropriate'" I highlighted the word with air quotes. Manly air quotes of course.

"Have you even looked at what everyone else is wearing?" I was beginning to feel like that smirk she wore never left her face. I was ok with that though, it gave her an air of laughter, and it made her simultaneously jovial and defiant. An addicting combination really. It definitely had me constantly intrigued and captivated my attention. Well until my thoughts were interrupted by a white paw being waved wildly in front of my face. "*chhhhht* this is Hail 1 to Rocketman, Rocketman do you read me?"

"Huh? Oh sorry, I was just thinking."

"I figured, I'd be worried otherwise. Although that seems to be a new thing for you, since you obviously jumped into this without usin your noggin." My incredulous look probably told her that I had no idea what she was talking about.

"You walked into a place called '6 Merry-Murderousess' without even knowing what it was about. What was even going on inside. It could have been a field of roses for all you knew. So? Do you like to make stupid decisions? Or is this one special?"

I was speechless. I didn't want to just tell her everything, babbling like a little baby. Real men don't do that. I couldn't tell her that the entire reason I was here was because I apparently wasn't man enough. My sandy brown ears just plastered themselves to my skull as I tried to hold back a pathetic whimper. I couldn't meet her gaze any longer, no matter how pretty her green eyes are.

"Ummmm," I eventually managed, still with no direction on what to say.

"Look," she thankfully interrupted me, "let's get you something stiff. Then we'll head somewhere where I'm the spectacle, not you, and you can tell me what's going on in your pretty little head." I was sick of feeling like I was in limbo. So I let out a sigh and told her that was alright.

"Keep!" She belted once again, "Jager bomb and another red headed slut!" The barkeeper just grunted in response.

"This 'bomb' isn't gonna blow up in my face is it?" I asked with a hint of suspicion.

"No it won't. Trust me." I'm not even sure what made me do it, or what made me feel compelled to trust her but I really did. For some reason I really trusted this woman I had barely met. Maybe it was because she didn't seem like the type to give a flying fuck what had happened, or even who caused the problem. A solution's girl. She wasn't just another chick. What there was another of though, was a white paw in front of my face.

"Geeze! You gonna keep spacing out on me?" I just shrugged.

"I guess I like the stars." The shock that registered across her face made me smile, the full, unrestrained laughter that followed warmed my chest. After she finally managed to calm down enough she was able to explain to me that she loved puns.

"Oh really? Why is that?" I pushed. I'm lucky that she had white fur or else I would have missed her light blush painted across her cheeks. She ignored it though, just powering through her explanation. Even if it wasn't much of an explanation.

"Puns are... They're just... They're just awesome."

"Well I got that part."

"Shut up!" she took a final deep drink of her 'red headed slut' finishing the drink I had at this point assumed she had been sipping on this whole time. "It's just you need to be a little smart for them. Not like a fake pun, those are dumb. Or just a dirty one for dirty's sake, just one that's gaaahhhh. You know what I'm tryin ta say, right?" She let out a groan and just asked, "Does it even matter why I like em?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Ok," she took a light sip of a magically full 'red headed slut'. I had been so engrossed by her I hadn't even noticed our drinks had come by now. "Why does it matter that I like puns?"

"Because, if I'm going to spill my guts to someone I want to at least pretend I know them." With that I tore myself from staring at her awe inspiring emerald eyes to examine the concoction she had ordered me. There was a shot glass inside what looked like a dark beer. Fantastic, more groady things AND I was expected to consume this one. I could handle the bar being gross, it wasn't like I was licking the bar. That's what drinking out of beer that had a shot glass in it reminded me of though. Licking. This. Disgusting. Bar.

"Well go on," she prodded, "it's not gonna bite you."

"I'm not afraid of it biting me, I'm afraid of the bacteria destroying my intestines," I shot back. She just rolled her eyes.

"Quit your whining and down it. Hold yer nose if ya haf to." I cringed, she's lucky she's an 8.5 or I wouldn't have taken that. I held my yote nose and threw the glass back almost choking on the shot glass as it followed the drink into my maw.

"Damn," I choked and spluttered, "that tastes like piss."

"You're supposed to actually close your nose when you pinch sissy. Now hold on I'll get you a chaser." I just sat there with my eyes half closed and my tongue sticking out, making a fairly disgusted face at the liquid when I suddenly felt some thing warm and moist around my tongue. Shocked, my eyes flew open just in time to match the sensation of her soft lips pressed firmly against mine. My tongue was shoved back into my mouth and her raspy tongue forced its way into my mouth. My eyes closed again and I groaned lightly at the aggressive kiss. No, it wasn't just aggressive; it was dominating and filled my mouth with the flavor of cranberries and liquor.

"Man," I said pulling back breathing a little roughly, "I think you're my kind of chaser."

"That? I haven't even really kissed you. When I do I'll kiss you in a way you'll never forget about me."

"I don't know," I fake contemplated, "you're pretty unforgettable already."

She let out a bemoaned groan, "god you're cheesy." She downed the last of her 'red headed slut' and stood up, once again invading my personal space so whisper in my ear "Stay put, I'll be right back and then we can go hit up Mc Klain's for some coffee." The moist warm breath that spilled out of her mouth when she was talking to me tickled my ear and made it flick forward a few times. I couldn't figure out where she was going, until I saw a gleam of plastic that she was slipping to the bartender. Was she paying? Oooooh no she di-in't. I'm the dude, I'm supposed to pay.

"Hey-" was all I got out of my mouth while attempting to stand before I did a fantastic impression of being too drunk to stand, and had to sit back down. And there she was with that little smirk on her face off in the distance. I was gonna hit her with a goat when she got back over here. If the world would stop spinning. I had to settle for glaring in what I hoped was her direction and waiting for her return. By the time my vision had come back to its full working order she was heading back in my direction.

"You should've let me pay." I half growled at her while she approached. She just smiled in response, apparently my particular brand of aggression was cute.

"It was my treat for the doggie, don't worry about it," she finished as she stopped her trek next to me. "So do you need help out or are you fine walking out?"

"No," I stopped her, looking straight into her eyes displaying her clear confusion, "I'm not going if you don't let me pay you back. At the very least for my drink." I think I was happy that her smirk finally vanished, she was clearly not amused.

"Really? Why? I don't like to think of you as difficult, I don't like difficult people." I couldn't keep my gaze on her, I was too embarrassed to admit the reason. Admit that I had been feeling emasculated and her paying for me was just compounding that feeling. For the second time in the night my ears splayed out flat, plastered against my skull.

"Does this happen to have anything to do with everclear?" she asked with slight exasperation, and yet gently, it felt like she cared. I didn't even know if she really did but, I felt it and I wanted to believe it. So I nodded in response, just light enough so that she could notice. "How about this, I really don't know how much your drink was, so how about you buy coffee for the both of us and we'll take it from there?" I could actually lift my head to look at her at this suggestion, and instead of the smirk I expected there was concern. A real look of concern.

"Sure," I managed, "that sounds lovely." I stood up, slowly and carefully this time so as not to insight a dizzy spell. This atmosphere was a little too heavy though, it didn't suit her, "let us tally forth unto this... uhhh"

"Mc Klains."

"Yes! Mc Klains for coffee of the gods!" I grinned at her and started ever so gracefully stumbling towards the door. The return of that smirk, her smirk, was worth the embarrassment. Who cares what these random strangers thought of me anyway?

"I'm driving," she called after me following my stumbling steps out the door, "you're waaaaay too drunk."

The drive to Mc Klain's was short, especially with how she drove that pick up of hers. If I would have known that was how she drove before hand I would have probably assumed the truck wasn't red because of paint but, instead splashed across the vehicle with the blood of innocent pedestrians. Besides her terror inducing driving style the trip was filled with a variety of creative warnings against emptying the contents of my stomach on her dashboard or floor boards or whatever else she could come up with. All in all it was a very sobering experience.

The coffee shop was certainly interesting. It looked like it had at one time been a residential home that just had a sign strung across the roof, with a cheap mini spotlight making the sign legible even in the cover of night. The inside did nothing more than to reaffirm my initial suspicion that this had once been a house. There was ripped pleather furniture adorning the room, patched together with silver duct tape. Didn't they know there was colored duct tape now? At the very least they could have matched the color of the sofa with the color of the duct tape. Geeze no fashion sense at all.

I followed Hail to the back of the very open house-store-coffee shop hybrid to find a counter and a disgruntled looking wolf girl. She had tribal markings shaved across her chest and up the side of her maw. That side's ear was also pierced making her face seem lopsided. I had to actively keep myself from turning my head to try and correct her 'lopsidedness'.

"I'll take a sledge hammer," Hail started. I saw a hand reach for her pocket and I cleared my throat rather loudly. Which got the reaction of her rolling her eyes at me, but still it got my point across. Me man. Me pay. Grunt.

"I'll have a double mocha," I tried to order confidently.

"Whip-cream princess?" the lopsided wolf asked... or mumbled... or was bored. I don't know. Bitch has issues.

"No I'm good"

"9.90" she said in that infuriating tone. I almost threw the 10 at her as I stomped off, Hail in tow.

"Ya know," Hail started, "ya shouldn't let the little stuff get to ya fire-crotch."

"Will you stop calling me that? Kay thanks."

"Well your highness maybe you should give me your name then." That stopped my stampede to a seat. I just realized she had no idea what my name was. I spun around and looked her straight in the eye.

"Dale. My name is Daniel Lipshitz." With that she stuck out her paw and shook it.

"Well Dale, my name is Hale. Short for Hailey, least that's what people call me when I'm dressed like this." I chuckled and smirked.

"So you don't go traipsing about like that all the time? What're you called when you're not dressed like a vampire queen?" To that she shrugged and simply replied.

"Mark."