The bar of the Cow and Corset is crowded as always is on a Friday night. The bartender casts a wary eye over each table, wiping a glass as he does so.
He sighs and turns his gaze back to the figure who sits at the bar in front of him.
"The usual?" he asks the hooded figure.
"Alas no," they reply, voice quiet and tired.
The bartender frowns. "Feelin' under the weather?"
"You could say that," they answer. Red eyes flicker up to meet his, the sight of them no less jarring than it was the first time he saw them nearly five years ago. "…in my condition…no alcohol is best."
"…so you're...?" he trails off, relatively sure of what she is implying.
"Mmhmm," the Necromancer Queen murmurs, resting her head on the bar over her crossed arms. "My advisors are not happy, seeing as I am still unwed." She gives a quiet grumble, an expression of nausea flitting over her face.
The bartender muses for a moment. "I've just the thing." He disappears behind a door, reappearing minutes later with a glass of what looks like green slime.
"You trying to poison me?" she asks, eyeing the glass with a flicker of unease in her expression.
"Not at all. It's a drink my wife used to have when she was with child. Not but sunberries and fresh springwater. Soothes the stomach."
The Queen pokes the glass with one long forefinger. "If this kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you and kill you in the most creative way I can think of."
The bartender pales. "I assure you, it's fine."
She takes a small sip, rolling the liquid around in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. "…it's…rather sweet…"
"Aye, my wife had a bit of a sweet tooth. Do you want me to water it down?"
She waves him off. "It's good." It may be a trick of the light but the bartender thinks he sees a faint blush from under her hood.
There is a pause, "…Thank you."
"It is nothing, milady."
He cleans the rest of the waiting glasses and serves ten more beers before there is a sudden clatter of noise from the other side of the room. He heaves a sigh. Well, there had to be a fight sometime.
He moves from behind the bar when the Queen stops him. "Wait."
"What?"
The red eyes turn to him, a terrifying smile on her lips. "Wait."
They watch as a man is thrown across the room, scrambles to his feet and punches the nearest patron. The brawl that ensues lasts for twenty minutes at which point the Queen stands and wades into the fray, calmly knocking out every single person involved.
Then she turns and moves back to the bar, reclaiming her glass. She hasn't even lost her hood.
"Impressive," the bartender notes.
"I'll pay for the repairs," she tells him, finishing her drink. "I needed to work off some of the stress I've been under. You would not believe how much a good fight is appreciated."
"Um…no problem and thanks…I think," he says.
She drops a few coins on the counter. "I'll be back next week."
The bartender watches her go.
"That," he remarks to the silent room, "is one scary lady."