Private Finished Harmless Fun

Deep down inside, some part of Fenn was doing a Dance Of Excitement, a particular dance which involved a great deal of spinning, flitter-flapping, and general buffoonery. The only outward sign of this ridiculous display was a winning grin, and a twitch of his wings. An interested party! Those were good for his wallet.

His ears and eyes scanned casually around the room, checking to see if anyone was paying them any particular attention. It seemed that they were being largely ignored amid the late-day crowds.

Shrugging, Fenn dug deep into his pocket, and flashed two objects, insulated from his cold by frost-freckled plastic baggies. The first was a crystallized resin, dark forest green. The second, a vial of thick, gold syrup. Both quickly retreated back into his pockets as soon as Evie’d had her look.

“It’s alright if you don’t bite, ‘specially if you think you can’t handle this, but these’re pretty interesting experiences; real shame to pass up on. Colorful, some might say.” Some part of him wondered if he should move away from hallucinogens and start seeing what he could do with stimulants. But that was a matter for another day. “First one’s Spirit Mint. The liquid’s Honey Candy. Might recommend using them in a home environment, or else a place where someone acting a lil’ funny isn’t going to cause trouble… you curious? Wanna know more?”

A bit of snow was falling around Fenn, fluffies puffy with excitement.

“Of course!” Fenn said, hopping off of his stool. On the floor, his chin was about level with the faux-leather seat. His eyes went to the bartender, who still had a bit of a disgruntled expression on his face as he bustled about. “I reckon we won’t be much missed, surely.”

He motioned for Evie to follow. Those in the crowd, upon brushing against the chilly breezes swooping around him like curious sparrows, tended to edge away from him as he passed. It was as sure a sign as any that his anticipation was getting away from him. Maybe it was silly, but he felt slick; not all deals went so smoothly as this. “You have anywhere in mind, or should I pick a spot? I know a back-alley sorta establishment that’s got some real nice meatball subs. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Could pick up some grub and chat it over outside the place.”

“Mmm. Did I forget to give that out that again?” He sighed, shrugging. “Fennik Glenwey. Call me Fenn.”


Over at the wide-alleyway SUBHOUSE (according to the crap sign over the door), the bustling of the city was muted. It felt eerie to Fenn, considering that where he came from, Manta Carlos’ ambient noise level was already comparable to baby birds peeping in a nest high above. Quaint, cute. Not loud.

In his hand, the fae held a sandwich that was three-quarters meatball, and quickly disappearing past his sharp teeth. A few extra had been wrapped up and shoved into his free pocket as well. He’d gotten Evie one too. Fenn had been willing enough to pay for the sandwiches; he’d be really hungry after the alcohol, which was saying something, because he was eternally hungry. And if this went down the way he hopped, he’d be alright monetarily anyway.

“Now, normally, my stuff is pretty pricey,” he mumbled out around a chunk of meatball. “I mean, it’s in limited stock. Takes a lot of steps to make. But it’s worth the hassle, you know?”

After licking meatball sauce off his fingers, Fenn pulled out both resinous crystals again. “This one,” he said, shaking the baggie, “is from the mint family. That don’t mean it ain’t potent — mood elevation, feeling detached, altered perceptions of the self — makes you feel kinda like the next Buddha. Everything’s a spiritual revelation. Technically legal to get high on, but I uh, assume my strain’s a lot less legal than the usual, since it can last up to ten hours as opposed to the usual half-an-hour.” He paused, giving a thoughtful twitch of his antennae. “Gets fainter around the seven-hour mark.”

In contrast, the mothy fae pulled out the vial. The liquid inside glittered against neon glow. “Honey candy’s a hallucinogenic. Possible euphoria, hallucination, detachment, and hey, maybe synesthesia if you’re lucky. It’s not the most tested-out thing, not compared to the other stuff. But I hear it’s fun.”

It felt like he was over-explaining, but some anxious part found it necessary. He didn’t know how much this kid knew about this kind of stuff.

“I’m an honest guy — literally speaking — so I’m going to admit that I don’t know how addictive these are. Spirit mint shouldn’t be. To a normal human, anyway, far as I know. But the honey candy is… more experimental, like I said. Might be. Might not.”