Another short fic - I don't have the attention span to write longer ones....
Disclaimer: Don't own Susan, Angua, Biers or anything… If I owned Biers it would serve Absolut.
I've squished the timelines of Men at Arms and Hogfather closer together. And then stretched them. Trust me, it works. Basically, the events chronicled in Hogfather have been and gone by some months, and those in Men at Arms are just about to begin
…yes I know I'm being silly…call it creative license…
and now….
Biers
by manx
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It began, as most things do, in a bar....
You know the one...
And you know how it's described...
And you know which people go there...
And you know why...
In fact, this story barely needs to be told.....*
~~~
Most people avoided the bar, without even realizing that they were. Actually, Biers was situated in a part of the Shades that was, if possible, shadier than the rest. Even the inhabitants of the Shades, though, avoided Biers.
Susan, given the night off from the Gaiters, stalked through the twisting streets. Realizing what she was doing she toned it down, to a walk, or perhaps a march. I do not Stalk. Not anymore.
It wasn't that she particularly liked Biers. No one really liked it. It was just…more convenient. The drinkers there were generally a quiet lot, in an undeadly sort of way. Most of them spent their days trying to fit in, and Biers was a welcome change to that pace, albeit a gloomy depressing one.Susan entered, paused by the door while her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The bar was fuller than usual, and Susan strained her eyes vainly, searching for an empty table. She picked her way towards the bar, nodding at Igor.
'Evenin' Susan' he rumbled.
'Gin and tonic, thanks'
'Rough day?'
'No' she sighed, sliding onto the barstool. 'Just a ...day'
~~
Igor nodded as he expertly poured the drink. Most of his patrons had something similar. Not bad days, just days when humanity wrapped itself around you, screaming softly in your ear
...you don't fit in, you don't belong, you don't need to be...
and squeezed a little harder.
So you came to Biers and proved them all right. Because if you could go anywhere else, why would you go there?
~~
Susan sipped her drink cautiously. She'd never had one before - it was just the only clear drink she could think of.** Not bad. She sat on the bar stool, tried to look inconspicuous and fought to keep her mind on normal subjects have you seen who you're surrounded by? what you're surrounded by? if you want normality, stay at the Gaiters…
~~
Another woman made her way though the dim. She removed her helmet with evident relief.
'Good evening Igor'
'Evenin' Angua. How was your first day?'
Angua sighed. 'Over, thank gods...It was just a day.' This city is no different than anywhere else. This damn job was a stupid idea-'fine body of men' Bastard. 'Fruit juice, thanks'
Angua took a seat at the bar, near Susan. They nodded at each other, turned back to their respective drinks.
Alcoholic breath engulfed the drinkers.
The bogeyman placed one thick hand on Susan's shoulder.
'I've eard bout you' he said, voice low with menace. 'you bet up my cousin. Threw him out inna street. He was jus scarin the kiddies like he should. You shouldn't ort ta mess wif us…ulp'
...as, almost lazily, Angua reached across and caught him by the wrist, bending his arm behind his back, forcing his head onto the bar. Susan, on the other side of the bogeyman, leaned down and said GO AWAY. PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME ASK AGAIN. Angua pulled out a small square of blanket but there was no need. He was gone, leaving only a cloud of stale alcohol in his wake.
Angua and Susan looked at each other.
'Uh...thanks...' said Angua, remembering the awful inevitability of that voice.
Little memories of the future flickered through Susan's head. 'That deserves a drink'
Angua raised her fruit juice. 'A real one' said Susan.
Hesitation skittered across Angua's face. She was tired and the idea of alcohol was a nice one. Besides, if the job in the Watch continued the way it was, chances were she'd be out of Ankh-Morpork by the end of the month. If that was the case, she could do worse than accept a drink from a stranger.
Besides, she seemed harmless. Don't forget that voice though. Like coffin lids slamming shut. And she has 'kiddies'? 'Whiskey and lemonade, then thanks. I'm Angua, by the way'
'Susan'
And they met.
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*It's going to be, though. Writers guild regulations. Sorry…
**Because Igor doesn't mix metaphors.
A/N This will be continued, in time. If anyone drinks, or has ever tasted, whisky & lemonade, let me know what it tastes like. I've never tried it – I don't really know what AM offers in alcohol choice, and I was trying to keep the drinks clear…and I don't think AM does much in the way of vodka, otherwise both of them would be drinking martinis, or something similar… (I see them as martini people. Susan especially. Ideas, anyone?)
…and, as always *gets down on knees and begs* (pathetic – who, me?) feedback is much appreciated. It's the only way I'll improve, you know…