Angua set down her truncheon slowly, dreading the thought of going back to Mrs. Cake's. Usually she stayed with Carrot, but now…
Feeling resigned, she walked out the door and started towards the house, when she passed Beirs. The more she thought about it, the more inviting a cocktail sounded. Turning on her heels, she entered the bar. Everyone glanced up for a moment, then went back to their drinks*. The Igor behind the bar asked, "What'll it be?" without looking up.
"A bottle of whiskey," Angua said evenly. The Igor looked up at her, surprised for a moment, then winked knowingly.
"I heard about you and Captain Carrot. This one is on the house," he said, pouring her a small glass of a clear liquid. She downed it in one go, felt a small burn in her throat, and then washed it down with whiskey.
*A drink being defined here as anything fluid or semifluid that can be drunk, slurped, or otherwise swallowed by a creature, living or otherwise.
Susan carefully added the thirtieth mark to the column, then grinned victoriously. One month, 30 days, a twelfth of a year, four weeks with not a single supernatural incident. There had been the break in, but that had just been a human. An annoying human admittedly, but just a human.
To celebrate thirty straight days of normalcy, she was going to Beirs. The drinks weren't the best, but at least no one stared at the raven.
As she walked down the street, it appeared that people moved out of her way. In fact, people were simply not where she was. A tavern brawl that had moved outside stopped suddenly as the pugilists found themselves sidling towards the edge of the street for no apparent reason.
She was almost to Beirs when she heard a flutter of wings and a voice say, "Trying to ditch me? You know what he gets like if I don't keep an eye on you."
Susan sighed. Quoth the raven had been instructed by her grandfather to "keep an eye on her" after their last encounter with the Auditors. She found it disconcerting when changing, but besides that the only impact was the curious stares when inside.
She entered the building quietly, walking up to the bar without interruption. The patrons of Beirs were generally a quiet sort, who went there to drink without being bothered by other drinkers, other people, or (especially) an angry mob. Knowing that no matter how much she drank, she would never get more than tipsy, Susan ordered a large bottle of mead. The Igor handed it over without comment, and accepted the cold iron coins stoically. As he put them away, he glanced at another patron. The guard was on her 6th glass, and he was beginning to get worried. Hitting a bothersome werewolf with his club was one thing, but she was a guard. Vimes would go spare if he found out.