The Great Arlnest, written by Fitz

Being out at night sucked. But being alone in his apartment sucked more. Fitz had actually been staying at the dorms recently, unable to handle being alone in the apartment for a couple of weeks now. He had changed out the rug, the couch, and even the kitchen table. But no amount of new furniture would make him comfortable there.

So he decided that if he was gonna be up anyway, the bar was better than nothing.
His hands felt numb, which helped immensely with the cold beer he held. But at the same time, the condensation covered glass was hard to grip when you couldn't tell how hard you were holding it. So he held in hand underneath the bottle. Just in case.

Regardless of how he was feeling, Fitz put on the same carefree front he always did. Shoulders back, smiling slightly. No one should be the wiser, even those who knew him.
Speaking of, Fitz saw a face he didn't expect to at the bar. A girl he had met, was it at the New Year's Party? He couldn't quite remember. What a shit show that had been.

Still. She looked worse for wear. Fitz had always found listening to people bitch a out their problems helped him feel a little better about his own.
So he sauntered over to the booth, taking a casual sip from his beer. He nodded to the girl, making sure she saw him and wouldn't be startled by his presence.

"Hazel, aye? Didn't expect ta see ye 'ere, lass. Ye waitin' on someone?"

Fitz took no hesitation in sliding into the booth across from Hazel. It gave him a chance to put his drink down He nodded understandingly, "Aye, Ah getcha. Been 'avin' trouble sleepin' meself. Alcohol's definitely a good remedy fer that though."

He laughed at his own joke. Was it even a joke? It was hard to tell. He was thinking about it too hard. Better drink more.

He pulled the bottle away from his lips and just kind of stared at nothing for a few long minutes. If Hazel said anything, he wasn't sure if he even heard her. But he finally broke out of his stupor.

"Ye ever..."

He paused. What was he even about to say? You ever wonder where you'll go when you die? God, what a morbid thought. But it was one he had pondered, most often when his mind went back to thoughts of Limbo. He sighed and took another swig of beer.

"Nevermind. Wot's gotcha up so late?"

How many beers in was he? Three? Four? Fitz couldn't remember. He'd just opened his tab and started drinking.

His tongue itched, wanting to confess everything he had seen, felt, and heard. To let someone who wasn't a reaper, who didn't already know the ins and outs of death know just what had happened to him.

But he was also scared, as if telling someone else, someone he barely knew would make it more real. But he was the Man in the Green Hat. Friend to all. And shouldn't a man be able to tell his friends his troubles?

"It's, uh... Ah died. No' really, Ah mean. Like. Ah experienced someone else's death. Weird magic shite. Death, Limbo, and clawing me way out o' the dirt back t' life."

It all just flowed out. Fitz wasn't even thinking at this point, just talking. It felt so damn good just to talk about it.

"Ah 'aven't been meself since. Ah always knew Ah was mortal. Gonna die one day. But now it scares me. It's all so damn confusing. So..."

He didn't have a word for it. It was the dread of having glimpsed into something far bigger than him, and being scared of just how deep it went. How far into the darkness he couldn't see.

Fitz paused, catching his breath. "Ah'm sorry, lass. Ah shouldn't be rambling about me problems. Ah've been lookin' into magic. Death magic mostly. Tryin' to understand. But ye, yer 'avin' nightmares? Wot about, if ye don't mind me prying."

Fitz nodded slowly. He didn't really understand, but it was always good to at least acknowledge what the other person said. Witch hunters? A war? None of that made sense to him really. But it was apparently par for the course in a place like this.

"Ah mean, didja fight 'im fer shits 'n giggles, or was it self defense?"

This was important. Fitz could understand feeling guilty if she had gotten into the fight for petty reasons. But if the fight wasn't her fault, like if she had to defend herself, then she really had no reason to take the blame.

Fitz folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. He couldn't really respond until he got confirmation. If the fight was her fault, he'd be wasting his breath to tell her that she wasn't to blame. If it was... he'd figure something out.

Fitz wasn't really sure how to respond. It was hard to gauge whether the incident was really her fault or not. She wasn't lying, exactly, but there was obviously more to the story than she was telling. Or willing to tell, even. He shrugged and knocked back the last of his beer, setting the empty bottle on the table and signaling for a waitress to bring him another.

"Well lass, ye can't 'elp 'ow other folks be'ave. Ye just gotta take stock o' yerself an' worry ' bout keepin yerself in 'igh spirits. Drinkin's all well and good fer 'elpin ye pass out, but ye gotta take stock and find things to bring out yet 'appy. Savvy?"