Virgil tapped his fingers on the half-empty glass, watching the condensation roll down the side of the glass onto the cheap bar coaster. He had enough that the astringent cleaner taste of the gin and tonic was almost sweet. He picked at the coaster by scratching at a wet patch with his nail absentmindedly. He didn't entirely feel here, but enjoyed the pleasant floaty euphoria of being drunk all the same.
The bar was loud like it always was, but that had mostly drowned itself out, too. Virgil was too tanked to care about the volume or the people jostling him. Everything exhausted him and he just didn't feel like expending the energy to give a shit. Virgil tentatively sipped at the drink again, but the bar was already spinning slightly and Virgil wasn't ready to throw up just yet. He wasn't that far off, though. It was getting close to puke-o-clock, probably. Virgil never remembered enough to know.
Someone put their hand on Virgil's shoulder while they ordered from the bartender with the wild hair and lip piercing, but Virgil didn't feel like shrugging them off or saying anything. The hand was uncomfortably warm, but it moved away soon enough. An unpleasant sensation crawled up Virgil's spine, so he drank again to scrub the feeling from his brain.
It didn't go away, even at the bottom of the glass. Virgil scowled at the empty cup and rolled his shoulders a few times to remove the awful feeling. He had to grip the bar to keep from falling over, but it wouldn't go away. His skin still burned and crawled. Damnit, this wasn't supposed to happen when he was drunk. Mayhaps he wasn't drunk enough. That was an issue that could be solved, though.
Virgil held up a finger and looked pointedly to the bartender. The bartender watched Virgil curiously for a moment. "Yeah, no can do-sville, babydoll," Their response was incredibly sardonic. "You're about to fall over," The bartender shook their head, pointing at Virgil. Huh?
"I'm not, I'm jus'… dancing," Virgil shook his head, and that was a terrible plan. "This is my jam," He nearly threw up in his mouth, but raised his fist to pump it to the beat of some unknown top-chart song muffled by the bar patrons. Moving too fast was dangerous, but he was fine with this. It would be fun if he could even hear the music. The bartender refilled Virgil's glass with plain tonic and a lemon wedge, instead. Mm, lemony goodness sounded nice.
"If you throw up, I'm telling Remus to not let you in next time. And you basically live here, so let's not push it," The bartender responded loudly over the noise and shoved the glass in Virgil's hand that had fallen to the bar after the failed attempt. He didn't want to get kicked from another bar. Virgil sighed and gripped the glass carefully to drink some tonic. There was a lingering gin flavour in the glass that Virgil appreciated. He shouldn't, since everyone says it tastes like medieval medicine, but he did.
Virgil looked around the bar. The area had mostly cleared out, and there were only a few lingering people and groups. It was probably close to last call. Virgil wouldn't have gotten any more alcohol either way. Virgil sighed and nursed his tonic, shooting a glance at the smug bartender who was cleaning up.
"Can I have another lemon wedge?" Virgil asked, pointing to his drink. The bartender smiled and used the tongs to plop another slice of lemon in his cup. "Thanks," Virgil fished it out and started eating it.
"You really enjoy bitter and sour flavours, hm? You always ask for no simple in mixes and snack on lemons like candy," The bartender asked, holding up a lime wedge with a fresh set of tongs. Virgil nodded and the lime slice bobbed in his tonic as it landed.
"I think they're the only flavours I understan'," Virgil used the straw to fish out the lime to eat that as well. He had the drunk munchies, but the bar kitchen had long since closed.
"How about tangy and salty?" The bartender jiggled a bottle of olive juice at Virgil before putting it back under the bar.
"Tangy is fine, salty is great, though. I'm made of salt. I've been told that, you know. It was declared that a dragon witch enchanted a giant rock of salt, an' that's how I was born. I'm like 90% salt by volume. I'm 180 proof, but with salt," Virgil rambled deliriously, sometimes the words muffled by Virgil munching on a citrus wedge. The bartender dropped another lemon wedge in Virgil's drink and topped it off with the tonic gun.
"If you're made of salt, isn't it cannibalism if you eat salty things?" The bartender grinned playfully.
"No, no, gotta maintain that salt level," Virgil smirked at them, sipping at his tonic. He liked this bartender. He vaguely remembered that. Though they did make great drinks. Great drinks that were threatening to come back up. He might have pounded the rest of that drink too fast. "If I throw up but keep it in the toilet, does that still get me banned?" He added, feeling sick to his stomach again. His skin still mildly tingled in a weird scratchy way, too. The alcohol didn't solve it, but it was low enough Virgil could ignore it by now, at least.
"Yes. Keep it in you or get a cab home," The bartender demanded, tapping their pointer finger to the bar resolutely.
"Fine, fine, geez," Virgil rolled his eyes. He would just rely on his stomach to not be a little bitch.
Virgil stared at his drink for a while, spacing out. He was fuzzy and toasty and feeling good, even though he felt dizzy and sick. Being drunk was weird like that sometimes. You can get bad-drunk where you feel too sick and need to lie on the floor and vom, or you can get fun-drunk where nothing is sicky or hurty. Virgil was kind of in between the two, he figured. The dizziness wore off a bit the more he nursed his tonic, and he was feeling more comfortable. It meant he was getting less drunk, though, and Virgil didn't like that as he listened to the hustle and bustle around him in the bar.
He watched the bartender work when he wasn't staring at his cup. They seemed busy. It was probably a rough job. They had an amazing smile, though. One of those self-assured smirks that made it look like they were scheming. Or it could be his drunkenness interpreting it weird. Either way, he liked watching them work and examining all the shiny bottles on the wall behind them. He was enough sheets to the wind that the glass bottles of alcohol seemed to shine as he looked at all of them.
"Hey V, need a topper?" Someone walked up next to Virgil and asked, but he was too drunk to figure out how to look.
"Bartender says no," Virgil groaned with a small pout.
"Not that kind of topper. The other kind," The person poked at Virgil's nose and he scrunched up his face in protest.
"He's asking if you want to buy some extra coke, idiot," The bartender rolled their eyes and returned to cleaning with a rag, but stayed nearby.
"Oh, no, 'm still good," Virgil rubbed his eyes blearily. He didn't know his dealer was here.
"Yeesh, you're lucky the bar is empty," Jay scoffed and kicked Virgil's leg. "I'm sure I'll see your ass right here on Wednesday with some money for me?" He asked, sounding kind of pissed for some reason.
"Yeah, yeah. Wad o'cash," Virgil waved them off. Virgil got punched in the side, but it wasn't hard enough to hurt through the alcohol. It seemed like Jay left since he said nothing else and no other hits landed on him. Virgil glanced at the bartender, who looked annoyed at Virgil, too. What the hell? He didn't do anything.
"Exactly how much coke do you do? This is like the third time I've seen that piece of shit," The bartender dropped a lemon wedge straight in Virgil's hand, this time for him to suck on. He bit into it and lifted his head to look at the bartender again.
"I dunno. 'nough to get through work, I guess," Virgil chewed on the rind distractedly.
"Last call!" The bartender called out across the floor. Virgil held up his finger to order another drink. "Not for you," They rejected Virgil's order stoutly. Virgil stuck out his tongue at them and made a face. "Have you considered that if you need to do fucking coke to get through your job, that maybe that job isn't for you?" The bartender asked bitterly.
"I don' need it, it jus' makes things easier. S'fine," Virgil huffed defensively before slurring out an answer and dropping his head to the bar. The music was turned down to what was probably a much more tolerable level, but Virgil's ears were ringing either way.
"If you drink less, you won't be as hungover and won't need so much help. Also, coke makes you feel like shit when you're not on it, you could stop those side-effects too," The bartender grumbled in Virgil's general direction.
"Yeah, great, perfect advice, stop drinking an' doing drugs, sounds good," Virgil grumped into the weirdly slick bar surface. "Jus' sell me another drink so I can black out proper, thanks," He flipped the bartender off.
"How do I know you're not already blacked out? You never remember talking to me," The bartender protested. "I've told you my name at least seven times already. What is it?" The bartender asked. Virgil paused and tried to remember while he stared at the reflective bar surface. Absolutely nothing came to mind.
"Fuck," Virgil banged his head against the bar. "Well, mission 'complished. I don' think I'm blacked out, but my brain's useless anyway," He spun his finger in the air sarcastically.
"Surprising. Not that you don't tip well, but this is getting harder to watch, Virgil," The bartender sighed and pulled a beer, then passed it off to someone Virgil never noticed step up to the bar.
Virgil sipped at his drink and stared at his cup again, playing with the condensation on the side of the glass. He didn't understand what was hard to watch. Virgil turned to see the bartender serve just another two people before they went back to cleaning and organizing the bar. He returned to slowly shredding the wet coaster with his finger lazily, leaning on one arm.
He didn't want to interrupt the bartender while they were working, and they were moving swiftly as they sorted and wiped with a focused expression. They seemed busy. Virgil examined the bottles on the bar again as he nursed his drink. He didn't want to make a big mess either, so he made sure all the coast bits were on top of the coaster and used his straw to mess with the crushed ice instead. He liked the sound it made. It felt like both ages had passed and also no time at all when Virgil came back from a slow blink.
"Is it always this boring with me?" Virgil groaned, pulling himself up to sip at his tonic.
"I suppose. Sometimes you do the anticipated nonsense. You went home with your dealer once. I think he's mad at you because you never called him back. You put forty dollars in the jukebox app once to play songs you thought sounded funny. You tried to dance on the bar once, but I bribed you with garlic fries to stop so I wouldn't have to kick you out. I'm pretty certain you either had a threesome in the bathrooms or watched them make a biohazard out of the stalls," The bartender explained while they served another beer and a rum and coke.
"Garlic fries sound amazing right now," Virgil bemoaned, hitting his head on the bar again. "I didn' know I got game," He added thoughtfully, returning to his drink.
"You're disarmingly shy enough that people feel comfortable with you. You don't need game when you're that cute, either," The bartender pointed an empty glass at Virgil and he reflexively looked down at himself. "You're not worried about hooking up with your dealer?" The bartender asked incredulously and Virgil looked back up at them slowly.
"Don' people often hook up with their dealers?" Virgil asked and started playing with a striped lemon rind.
"I'm pretty certain he actually likes you-likes you, and that's a little different from the normal way of things," The bartender raised an eyebrow at Virgil.
"Y'think if I finish that gin bottle I could forget my name? That'd be cool," Virgil hummed, pointing at the gin on the wall. "He's really not a puh… whatever you called him. He's real nice," Virgil added after a moment of judgemental glaring from the bartender.
"He punched you right in front of me," The bartender clanked a bottle down hard on the bar before moving it.
"I barely felt it an' I like it a lil' rough. Couldn't feel otherwise while 'm hammered," Virgil shrugged dismissively.
"He wasn't fucking you over the bar, just fucking punching you. That's not acceptable behaviour from anyone," The bartender groaned and rolled their eyes.
"An' I continue to not care," Virgil shrugged and took a sip from his drink. "This gin is watered down, are you ripping me off?" He pointed at his cup and looked at the bartender.
"It's just tonic, I cut you off," The bartender chucked a towel at Virgil's face and he laughed. Virgil put the damp towel on the bar for them to take back.
"So, I can't get a dark an' stormy?" Virgil pouted out his lower lip at the bartender.
"You can have a ginger beer out of the bottle," The bartender proposed instead with a flat tone.
"Sold," Virgil nodded and held up his hand. The bartender pulled a ginger beer out of the cooler and slammed off the bottle cap on the metal rim of the bar, then added it to Virgil's tab on the big touch-screen monitor next to them. Virgil sipped at it with a sigh of relief. He was feeling less sick, but this didn't taste alcoholic. Sneaky bartender. Oh, wait. Ginger beer isn't alcoholic. Virgil cackled to himself and pushed his hair out of his face. He took a few large sips while the bartender looked at Virgil oddly.
"How do you even have sex this drunk, anyway? Don't you get whiskey dick?" The bartender sighed, sounding resigned for some reason. "I'm cashing you out, by the way, you're not buying anything else," They added, waving their hand in the air.
"Oh, uh, I don't know," Virgil pressed his lips together tight for a moment while Janus clicked around on the big touch screen the tabs were on. He sipped at the ginger beer and chewed on a lemon wedge out of his tonic.
"Are you going to go with some random remaining floozy today or just head home today?" The bartender asked.
"Nobody came to me today. You're the only one that called me hot. Unless you want me to go with you?" Virgil pointed to himself in confusion.
"No, I deal with drunks enough and I'm still not sure you'll resist vomiting everywhere," The bartender held up their hands and shook them. "What did you want to tip today?" They asked, looking exhausted. The neon lights of alcohol signs didn't do much for lighting up people's faces in a nice way. Virgil probably looked bruised or something.
"I dunno, does fifty sound good for putting up with me? I think so," Virgil nodded sagely. "Can I stay while you close?" Virgil asked hopefully.
"I know you don't remember, but this is nonsense," The bartender crossed their arms and glared at Virgil for a moment.
"But I don' feel like walking," Virgil whined, pouting at the bartender again.
"I doubt you do, but you've got some time to recover still. Otherwise, I'll let you stay an extra thirty minutes if you clean the empty tables properly and without puking when you bend over," The bartender offered, hefting up and bucket and a clean rag.
"I can do that," Virgil nodded and took a large swig of the ginger beer before taking the bucket handle and heading over to clean the empty table near the bar. There were still glasses on it, and Virgil glared at them. The bartender came around with a cart and cleaned off all the glasses into a plastic tub and the trash into a bag. Virgil smiled and slipped on the plastic gloves hanging off the sides before starting to carefully wipe down the tables. He had to work deliberately or he upset his stomach or would miss things, but he made progress on helping clean up the bar.
The bartender came around with a different bucket and started doing the bar seats after bussing all the tables. Virgil was glad he was just on tables since that required more bending than Virgil likely had in him. Especially since Virgil mostly had lots of gin and tonic in him. The bouncer came in and pointed to Virgil, but the bartender shook their head.
The bouncer ushered the last group of people out of the bar with a few loud objections, and Virgil smiled at them smugly as they walked out. He stuck out his tongue at them before going to the bar for another swig of ginger beer before returning to the tables. The bouncer headed into the back and came out with a push broom a few minutes later. Virgil hadn't realized that it had gotten so late while he worked. Which was probably to be expected. The music was turned down lower, and the track was changed to Queen, which the bouncer sang along with.
Virgil had to take another ginger beer and bathroom break, but the tables were done before the others finished their tasks. He wiped down the bar top before dropping the bucket off where he picked it up from and slapped the gloves back on the side. Virgil sat back down and dumped some ginger beer in his half-empty tonic just because he could, and sipped at it while he stared blankly at the empty bar.
A few songs passed while Virgil enjoyed his time in the much quieter and more comfortable bar, but he watched to make sure the bouncer or bartender was still nearby. He didn't like it when one of them went into the back. It didn't feel right. Being alone in a bar felt fucked up. He liked watching the bouncer dancer while they worked. The bartender sang along with some of the Jazzier songs, and they had a nice voice. He still wanted another drink, but he was still drunk and still kind of pukey, so he got over it quickly while he kicked his feet and sipped his drink at the bar, and leaned on both hands.
"Your extra thirty is up, Virgil, go on," The bartender motioned over their shoulder. Damnit. Virgil wasn't ready to go.
"I've got like three sips left. Three minutes?" Virgil shook his nearly empty ginger beer bottle at the bartender.
"Fine, but any longer and I'm throwing your drunk ass out on the street myself," The bartender responded shortly. Yeesh. Virgil drank the last bit in his tonic glass and took a deep breath.
Okay. Walking home. He needed to psych himself up. He could do it. He wasn't that far. Just a few blocks, an elevator ride, and a hallway to his front door. Virgil pulled out his phone to check the time. Shit, it had almost been three minutes. Virgil put his phone down on the bar and slammed the last of his ginger beer. He took his empties to the bus cart parked next to the bar and waved at the bartender, signalling that he was leaving. The bartender smiled and waved back, and it relieved Virgil that he didn't piss them off and get kicked out.
Virgil stumbled down the ramp at the bar entrance and ran into the door. The bouncer came behind him, laughing their ass off, and unlocked the door for Virgil to make his way into the streets. He saluted the bouncer with two fingers and took a deep breath of the night air. It wasn't sobering, which was great. He didn't want to be sober. The door locked behind Virgil and he looked around to get his bearings before walking down the sidewalk towards his condo.
There was a new moon tonight, and it was darker than normal, but there were still street lights to rely on. The bar lights were dim and Virgil's eyes adjusted easily as he plodded along. Every uneven portion of sidewalk tripped him up, but he kept going. It couldn't be that much longer until his apartment building. He wanted to sit. He was too drunk for this. This walk sucked.
A cracked part of the sidewalk that had swelled from a tree branch sent Virgil rushing town towards the concrete. He couldn't catch himself in time, and god damn did his nose hurt now. Virgil groaned and gradually pulled himself up onto his feet. He stood up and stumbled backward into something hard. He turned to look and someone was jamming a gun in his back. Huh.
"Uh, hey," Virgil waved and wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve. "What's up?" He asked, stepping away from the gun, but the person grabbed Virgil's shoulder and pulled him back against it. It jabbed into his spine sharply and Virgil flinched.
"Wallet, phone, anything else of value," They demanded and rammed the gun harder against Virgil's back, pulling Virgil into the barrel.
"That hurts," Virgil grumbled and started flailing for his shit. He patted his front pocket a few times, struggling to get in with the way he was being pulled back. "I'm getting them, Jesus, but I need my arms," Virgil yanked his shoulder out of their arm and lost his balance, stumbling back and stepping on the mugger's foot by accident.
"You think this is fucking funny?" They growled, and Virgil got struck on the other shoulder with the butt of their gun, and they wrenched Virgil around to face them. Whoops, there's that alcohol, that was way too fast for his stomach. Virgil dry heaved a few times and stumbled back on his ass. "Is this a god damn game to you?" They did that whisper-shout thing and lashed their free hard around to jab Virgil in the face. He was hit right in the eye and fell back against the concrete.
He got hit a few more times probably, but the throwing up was more urgent and Virgil rolled over and lost his ginger beer and his last gin and tonic. Damnit. He liked those. Virgil got punched in the face again while they rifled through his pants pockets. This was so unnecessary, Virgil would have just handed them over.
"Where's your shitting phone?" The mugger pulled up Virgil by his jacket and hissed in his face. Virgil fruitlessly tapped his front pockets and shrugged. "You're such a drunk piece of shit," They dropped Virgil to the sidewalk.
"Tell me about it," Virgil muttered and rolled his eyes as the mugger rushed away. He listened to them run away with his eyes closed for a moment, but then realized if they caught him near his puke he might have to clean it up, and he didn't think he could deal with that. Virgil wiped off his mouth on his jacket and got up, tripping against a wall before he hurried away in a drunk stumble.
He reached for his key card for the gate, but it wasn't there. He grumbled and entered his unit number to ring his phone, but he didn't have that, either. Son of a bitch. Well, what can you do? Virgil backed up and took a running start to jump the gate. He nearly didn't get a hold of it and would have fallen again, but even though his hand slipped, he made it over the gate.
Virgil landed hard on his hip on the other side, but he made it over. He headed inside his building and grumbled to himself as he headed to the elevator. Why did his face hurt again? He rubbed it and blood came back on his hand. Huh. Oh, right, the punchy guy.
The elevator ride might have been dangerous if he had anything left on his stomach. It churned uncomfortably as he made it up to his floor. He dug his keys out from the lanyard under his jacket and struggled to get them in the front door, but was so relieved when he finally made it back to his place. He locked up behind him and dropped his keys on the floor. Virgil was too drunk to handle any of this, so he just stood in the shower fully clothed for a bit. Soak the blood or whatever, right? Right.
Virgil showered in a wobbly manner, not doing that great of a job. He was eventually mostly washed but too tired to move on, so he just leaned against the shower wall, getting pelted by the showerhead with a pile of clothes at his feet. After the water ran cold, Virgil left his clothes in a wet heap on the shower floor and dried off. He fell back onto his bed in nothing but a towel and passed out instantly.