Out here, a certain pub in a certain town struggles to stay afloat. But then, staying afloat out here is usually the LEAST of one's worries...
High above it, a sign for Mizoil still stands, and is still lit, at night. For some reason, Umbrella Greece's bastards never find anything up there worth climbing or demolishing for... Not even a turtle dove; and there are WAY too many of those out here... Or were once, at least...
Inside, a barpage drops a coin in a jukebox, and plays a familiar song: Inna's "Bad Boys." Ah, if only the track's cover art still portrayed Inna's hot bod like it once did...
As he works, he closes his eyes, dances, moves his lips, and waves himself around. Ah, how he misses the zenith of deep house music's career. Ah, how he misses gorgeous women. He may never see one again...
Outside, an exhausted Claire Redfield lumbers into town. She slows, and watches what happens in the pub, through its windows...
There's a barpage inside. He wears nothing but a short kilt. He's small-bodied. In a way, he looks ridiculous, dancing to an Inna song as if he was Inna...
Claire scoffs, and keeps approaching. She doesn't expect to tame him, but one way or another, she WILL get the replenishment she deserves, for keeping Umbrella's vermin subdued, and surviving...
Still moving his lips, Eustachius keeps his eyes closed, and swabs the bar table. It's very long, and covers a wide perimeter...
On the bar table, a scorpion stalks. It's another remnant of Umbrella. It's got multiple pincers, and a stinger that works like a flail. It's also got multiple eyes...
Eustachius is dancing right in its perilous direction. His cleaning hand's getting closer and closer to its location. The monster narrows its eyes, and swings the barbed cable on its tail. This'll be his kill of the day...and not to mention a VERY bodacious means of paying his protection money to the other monsters that...
That thought is cut short, when Claire takes up a machete, and chops the scorpion in two. In doing so, she causes the monster to explode, and splatter.
Simultaneously, the song on the jukebox ends. Eustachius freezes, right after looking in the direction of the noise.
With her blade, Claire sweeps the remnants of the dead scorpion off the bar, and salutes the barpage with her still-stained machete blade. "Sorry to add to your workload," she tells him, setting the soiled blade on the table, "but it would've surely killed you otherwise."
"Clare Redfield," Eustachius chants, gaping. "What are you doing here?!"
She shrugs. "I'm a human, not a goddess. I need beer too, you know. I could also use a bed...and a bath, if you have it."
"Of course." He drops his cleaning rag. "Just sit tight, and I'll have everything arranged for you." With that, he darts off.
Claire scoffs. "Sit tight," she mimics, studying the place. "How DOES he stay alive here?" She scoffs. "I probably wouldn't believe it if he told me..."
One at a time, Claire downs several boilermakers. Over-admiring, Eustachius watches... She slams the mugs down, and abuses Eustachius while asking for more. Eustachius barely regards her bad etiquette...
In the biggest room, Claire takes a bath. She hums in alto, to herself, while scrubbing her bare parts.
In the shadows, Eustachius watches her. He can't remember the last time he's beheld such beauty... And to think she isn't even trying to be gorgeous... Even so, some women have better business with better men...if there were such men Umbrella's remnants haven't eaten, or killed, or zombified, or de-brained yet...
He retires to a small closet, behind a curtain, and starts to take off his uniform; his kilt, specifically. Slowly, he slips it over his ass...
Abruptly, Claire pushes the curtain to the side. Eustachius nearly screams, and rips his kilt, while pulling it back up.
"Hate to bother you," Claire says, "but how dangerous has it been around here? What are some of the freaks that usually come through this place?"
He starts to turn around...until he realizes she's in the nude, and dripping. Her hair is still wet. He keeps his back turned to her.
"A lot of infected crows," he answers. "An armadillo, every now and then. The coyotes can get pretty bad, too. I have no idea why I'm still alive. They probably don't think I'm enough to sate their appetites."
"Hmm," she looks him up and down, "you might be right about that." She closes the curtain.
Eustachius waits. Again, he tries to take off the kilt...
She opens the curtain again. He rushes, while pulling the kilt back up.
"I hope you don't mind," she adds, "but I'll probably have to go back outside several times, during the night. It's not that I don't trust your plumbing; it's more like..."
"I get it. And thank you."
She scoffs. "It's nothing really." Once again, she leaves him be. Eustachius waits, a REALLY long time, this time, before trying to take off his kilt again...
A very long moment passes. Once again, he tries to slip out. This time, he makes it all the way below the knees...
She opens the curtain again. This time, he screams, while accidentally destroying the kilt, as he tries to pull it up.
"One more thing..." Claire stops, and studies his ass. She gawks. "So...you were a Cretan communist!" She crosses her bare and wet arms. "What was that like?"
He shivers, nearly in the buff. "I'd love to tell you. But first, can I PLEASE get changed?!"
"Am I...doing something to offend you? Where I come from, it's considered polite to look a woman in the eye when she's talking to you..."
"PLEASE?!"
Claire shrugs. "Sorry. You're just...a lot less cocky that most men I've known." With that, she leaves him alone.
Eustachius sighs, and finishes changing. Great; just what Eustachius needs: a big strong woman to judge his masculinity, and to hang the superior masculinity of other men over his head, as if it were there for him to match. Seriously; he's unique. He's not supposed to be like most men. Why can't some women just accept that? Don't they know there's no such thing as a perfect man?