It wasn't the most hopping Tuesday night. Especially since getting closer to the last call. There was a birthday party that was rowdy, and a few other grumpy singular patrons and maybe two other small groups in here. Other than the birthday party that had a half-empty pitcher of margarita, it seemed like the other people were probably getting ready to leave. Virgil leaned in on his arm and spun around his cup. He was incredibly jealous of that margarita pitcher and could easily finish it himself. Part of him wanted to try to sneak some, but that was fucked up and he had a much better drink in front of him than what was probably low-grade tequila and too much sweet and sour for his tastes.
"So… Jessica said you were cuddling Remus and getting fed crackers. Do you have an interest in them?" Janus asked offhandedly while they tended the bar. Virgil looked up from playing with the condensation on his whiskey sour in surprise. Was the other bartender Jessica? Oh, so they/them were right for Remus? Neat. Was Remus trans? They certainly had the androgynous look down either way.
"Oh. They're great, I think. I don't remember, but they seem to get where I'm coming from. I was about to throw up, and Remus was helping me. The nausea has died down, don't worry. But… I don't know, something's wrong with me. I just don't… get those feelings. It's not the alcohol or anything. I've never felt that way," Virgil explained, possibly too quietly for the bar.
"You go home with people often, Virgil," Janus deadpanned.
"Unless things are different when I'm drunk, It's probably that lonely thing. I don't mind doing stuff with people, but I don't have any kind of… draw to it, I guess. I know that makes me a slut. Hey, I might even have a reputation as the bar slut. I'd have to check the stalls for any references." Virgil chuckled half-heartedly.
"There's nothing wrong with you for not feeling attraction or liking sex for the sake of sex," Janus responded firmly. "There are other kinds of relationships than romantic if that's something you don't want for yourself." Janus nodded and turned to uncap a beer and pass it off, then added it to a tab.
"Aren't I supposed to want that? A partner and kids and stuff? Doesn't everyone want to find 'the one' or something?" Virgil stared at his drink and chewed his lip.
"I can't imagine you're in any kind of place to want those, but you don't have to," Janus reassured him. "They're not for everyone. You don't seem to enjoy being alone, though." Janus shook his head slightly.
"I don't think I do, either, but I don't know what else there is. My memory is too shot and I'm too much of a piece of shit for making any real friends, though," Virgil sighed and rubbed his finger against his glass as he watched the amber liquid move about.
"That would change if you got clean," Janus replied airily. "And I would think that people who are willing to drag you to rehab when you won't take yourself count as real friends, even if you don't remember interacting." His tone was somewhat chiding as he made a rum and coke for another customer.
"I remember the beginning of lots of nights," Virgil objected slightly with a rising inflection, but he didn't convince himself either. "You're probably right, though." He shot Janus a small smile. "I owe you a steakhouse meal or something. And you can hold me to that. Sorry for all the probably important shit you've told me I've forgotten." He frowned and returned to examining his drink.
"I've used you to vent before since I knew you wouldn't remember it, so it wasn't all important things to remember. We can catch up after you're clean and medicated, I would say." Janus smiled back to Virgil and glanced at the clock. "It's almost the last call. I'll give you tonic and lime for free if you need it for your stomach, but if you want anything else, think about ordering." He tapped his finger on the bar.
"Can you make a Manhattan with the non-alcoholic stuff?" Virgil asked curiously. Janus paused and bent down to check under the bar.
"I could, yes. Minus the maraschino cherry?" Janus asked with a raised eyebrow peeking over the bar at him.
"Half of one or a small one or something. It's not quite the same without the cherry." Virgil downed some more water. He was determined to do this right… or maybe more accurately, to not get yelled at by Janus again. He was kind of scary. Virgil probably appreciated it and needed it… but he didn't want it to happen again either way.
Janus opened up some new bottles from under the bar top, and to their credit, looked like real alcohol bottles. He sniffed them with a confused expression and measured them out into the shaker and performed, as usual, being fantastically showy and generally entertaining. He poured out the drink and dropped in a kind of mangled maraschino before sliding it in front of Virgil.
"Here you go. I make this as I would make a regular Manhattan. Tell me how it is." Janus looked concerned at the drink as Virgil dragged it to himself and lifted it to his nose. It smelled off, not that Virgil's shit nose could place it. He took a sip and grimaced at the glass in confusion. Janus was right, Virgil would have caught on quickly.
"Can you add some cherry juice? It's very… herbal." Virgil shook his head. Janus added what Virgil requested as well as stuck in a straw to stir with. Virgil picked it up to sip again. "Better. Still cough-syrupy. I think changing the ratio of vermouth to whiskey to be heavier on the vermouth next time. Oh, you know what might work? You know rustic Manhattans, right? Maybe you can sub the Angostura for apple bitters if you have them. It might help with that… taste." Virgil took another sip of the weird concoction in confusion. He paid for it, he may as well finish it. It wasn't that bad, honestly. Though Virgil could probably drink anything at this point.
"I did not know you were so versed in mixology." Janus stared at Virgil in bafflement for a few moments.
"Oh, uh, I've just done… a lot of drinking in my time," Virgil shrugged, stirring his drink.
"Just because you've drunk twice your body mass a night doesn't mean you know all of that." Janus rolled his eyes.
"You asked me to help, so I thought I'd help." Virgil sat up straighter, glaring at him.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing." Janus held up his hands. "I'm saying that was insightful," He added.
"Well, maybe I'm just blowing it out of my ass and it'll taste like shit," Virgil scoffed and threw back half the fake drink, forgetting it wasn't real. He grimaced for a horrible moment at the flavour. "Okay, do not shotgun fake alcohol, it's like I put a decorative pine cone in my throat." Virgil coughed twice and grabbed his water.
"One way to find out if it's good," Janus said and grabbed his shaker, rinsing it out thoroughly. He reached for Virgil's cup and took a sip, frowning before shrugging and nodding and sliding it back on the bar. Normally, Virgil wouldn't complain since the stuff he drinks generally would kill germs. This stuff… not so much. Would Janus be mad if Virgil refused to finish it? Janus paused from shaking the drink to look at Virgil before. "We've shared drinks before, Virgil." He rolled his eyes.
"There's no alcohol in there, though, it's not disinfected," Virgil pointed to it.
"While you were drunk, you licked a toilet seat," Janus scoffed. Virgil stuck out his tongue and stared at it, not sure what to do and already panicking. Janus pulled some mouthwash out from under the bar and poured it in a shot glass for Virgil. Virgil picked it up and started swishing right away. "I made you wash out your mouth then, too, and I didn't even know you had a thing about germs," He sighed and went back to mixing.
Virgil hurried off to the bathroom to spit it out in the sink and rinsed it clean. When he came back, Janus was already sipping a Manhattan. He slid back down on his seat, flinching when he accidentally bumped his hip and swished with some water a few times before drinking it.
"I know you don't want to try this, but it's good compared to the first try. I think if I adjust the ratios more it should be serviceable." Janus nodded and pulled out a flip-top notebook and started writing.
"Are you just going to make things for the menu based on what I order on a whim? It's going to skew more bitter or sour." Virgil made a confused expression.
"No, I'll pick from our most popular mixed drinks and see if I can make any of them work, as well. But If you wanted to keep helping, I'd appreciate it," Janus pulled out a beer bottle for a schnockered guy two seats over who held up a finger.
"Oh, sure. I don't think I'll be able to bring myself to finish something you drank out of, sorry." Virgil pushed the cup towards Janus.
"It's fine, it's a test drink." Janus took the cup and fished out the cherry to throw in the other Manhattan and dumped the rest down the sink at the bar. Virgil drank some more water to rinse the last of the mouthwash taste from his mouth before sipping his double.
"I'll take that tonic lime, heavy on the lime, that you offered. My stomach's kind of pissed at trying to shotgun fancy herb water. Or maybe just tonight. Oh, I left my glass in the break room. I'll go get it to refill if that's okay?" Virgil looked at Janus, who nodded. Virgil hopped up and headed into the break room, hijacking three crackers as he ducked in for the glass. He still felt wrong about being in here and hobbled out to the bar, setting his cup down on the bar.
"Is your leg alright?" Janus frowned, watching Virgil climb back up onto the barstool.
"I'm very sore, sorry. I'd normally drink until it doesn't hurt anymore, but…" Virgil trailed off.
"Thank you," Janus sighed and picked up the glass, pouring in some lime juice and using the tonic gun to fill in the rest of the way. He turned down the volume at the bar and looked around. "Last call!" Janus called out. Virgil sighed and leaned on his arms.
It was so melancholy and awful to be nearly sober at last call. Virgil nibbled at the crackers and watched only one person come up to get another drink. It seemed like a few people had already cleared out from the last time he looked around. He was starting to feel a little desperate about not having drunk what his stupid brain considered enough.
Virgil drummed his fingers restlessly and rocked in his seat a bit, taking a big drink from his now nearly empty whiskey sour. He needed another drink; it was the last call. He always ordered another drink. No, he was fine. He would be fine. He had a drink. Virgil gripped his tonic and sipped it carefully. Mmm. Tonic. No gin. That was wrong. Virgil loved dry gin. This drink needed some gin. He needed some gin. It wasn't right. Virgil put the last cracker in his mouth and chewed slowly.
He decided hours ago he was going to drink less tonight, why was this suddenly hard now? Virgil accidentally bit his tongue and swallowed, holding the cold tonic in his mouth for a few moments. He had drinks. Virgil could have as much tonic and lime as he liked. He could mix it up with lemon, probably. He could probably still order another non-alcoholic drink but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same at all. He was supposed to get drunk.
Virgil felt clammy again and took a deep breath. He was fine. He didn't need to get drunk. Virgil already drank today. Virgil has the best damn whiskey sour he's ever had—He pounded the last drink before he realized what he was doing and held his head desperately. He didn't have a drink anymore; he needed a new one, right? It's the last call. He had to order a new one—
"Virgil?" Janus sounded concerned.
"No!" Virgil shouted out and shot his hands over his mouth. He could just steal a bottle, right? They couldn't stop him if he moved fast enough.
"You need to go back to the break room." Janus came around the bar and put his arm around Virgil's shoulders.
"No, no, no, I—I—" Virgil stammered and stared at the drinks.
"You're sweating again and staring at the bottles, Virgil. You need some space. I'll start closing up shop while you breathe. Just try to calm down and you can help like you wanted to, right?" Janus reassured him, but Virgil gripped the bar and refused to let go. He couldn't pull his eyes from the bottles. There was one on the counter he could even reach. He let go with one hand to reach for it and Janus smacked his hand down. "Break room. Now," Janus stated more firmly while Virgil swallowed dryly and shook his head. "Remus, hold on. Will you please take him to the break room, first? I think it's just set in he can't drink anymore for the night and I don't trust him out here until he calms down," Janus called Remus over.
"Hey, Virge, sorry, this is going to suck," Remus put his arm around Virgil's torso and pulled him away, then carried him away from the bar while Virgil couldn't decide between crying or thrashing to get away and ended up flailing slightly and choking on his tight throat.
Remus dropped off Virgil on the couch along with his tonic on the table and he tried to shoot to get up a few times, but Remus just held Virgil down with one hand. "Remember the breathing thing?" They reminded him. Virgil nodded and fought to swallow some thick spit. Remus held Virgil's hand on their heart again and started breathing slowly. Virgil struggled to follow the first few times until he got the hang of it. Remus was patient with him, and he felt worn ragged by the time he could breathe normally again.
"You good?" Remus asked, checking Virgil's pulse again. He wasn't, really, but he also wasn't bad anymore and didn't know how to respond. "Okay, I'm locking you in here. We'll monitor the cameras. Just call if you need us for anything but another drink," Remus reassured him. Virgil nodded slowly, gripping at his hoodie nervously. Remus ruffled Virgil's hair before heading back out, and the door clicked loudly behind them.
Rooms aren't designed to keep someone in, right? Maybe Virgil could just unlock the door. He waited a minute and tried to focus on breathing evenly, but as soon as it felt safe, he shot up and tried the knob. It rattled, but it was a knob with a keyhole on either side. Son of a bitch! Virgil threw his hands up in the air and paced the room a few times while gripping his torso. He was fine! He shouldn't go through withdrawal. Virgil drank alcohol already! He had two drinks; he was fucking dandy!
Virgil shouted out in frustration and scratched at his scalp harshly before throwing himself onto the couch. He sat back and buried his face in the throw pillow. Remus was doing him a favour. Virgil needed to calm down so he could help. Breathe! Calm down! He screamed into the pillow before rolling over and lying flat to work on breathing. He didn't need a drink. Virgil had a drink. He didn't need to get drunk. Virgil would be okay. He didn't want to be okay! He wanted to be drunk! Virgil thrashed his legs a few times and threw the throw pillow over his face.
It was going to pass. This was just his brain throwing a hissy fit and it would end like every other time he freaks out. He just has to ride it out, like the heart palpitations. He reached around blindly for another cracker and shoved it in his mouth when his stomach cramped. Virgil didn't feel like he was dying, so he would be fine. Well, would he know what dying feels like? No, no, no, don't think about that or he would panic. This shouldn't be so hard! Breathe! Breathe it out and don't be a useless asshole!
Virgil moved the pillow to his chest and hugged it to him. Okay. Logical pattern stuff. Virgil looked up at the ceiling. Oh. Huh. There were glow-in-the-dark star shapes up there. That was adorable. Virgil started counting those in small sections at a time. He mouthed the numbers to himself and gripped at the pillow. His eyes shot to the door a few times. He wasn't able to stop himself from thinking about it entirely. Once he got to the ceiling fan as a stopping point, he sat up to drink some tonic and laid back down to return to counting.
"Nice," Virgil murmured when he hit sixty-nine and switched to counting out loud quietly to drown out his brain's incessant demands for another drink. It knew what's really great for drowning out a brain. Fucking hell. Virgil groaned and rubbed his face, then kept counting. He got through another section and had passed one hundred in short order, though he was still tremulous and hot.
"You haven't moved in a bit, are you alright?" Janus popped his head in.
"Counting the stars," Virgil pointed up to the ceiling. "Remus tried to calm me down with counting earlier. I might still minesweep if it was in front of me, but I'm doing a little better," Virgil sighed despondently.
"I appreciate the effort. I would hope you'd know better than to do that, but I'll make sure the glasses are all bussed and in the kitchen before you come out. Remus just kicked out the last customer. I'll be back in about ten minutes to check on you again," Janus informed him. Virgil nodded and looked back to the ceiling. Shit, he wasn't positive where he left off. He knew that one near the vent was one hundred twenty, so he'd just start over from there.
Some loud dish-clattering type noises came through the shared wall that was the kitchen. They were probably loading cups into the dishwasher or something. Virgil sat up to get a better view of the stars and sipped his drink before leaning back, still holding the throw pillow to his chest. He still wanted a drink. He still wanted a drink badly. It felt like it didn't matter how many stars he counted.
"How are you feeling now?" Janus stepped in this time, coming to examine Virgil. "Hm." He tapped his chin and frowned. So what if Virgil was still shaking? So what if his forehead was sweating? That's not the problem here.
"Are you sure I can't just—" Virgil looked up to him desperately.
"You told me no more, and it's all been cleaned up and put away for the night. I'm just respecting your wishes and you need to respect that we're closed," Janus responded firmly.
"Fuck my wishes!" Virgil shot and buried his face in the pillow again. "Sorry!" He called out into the pillow. "It just feels wrong! This is wrong! I'm supposed to be drunk right now and I'm not even buzzed! It's fucking bullshit!" Virgil shouted into the pillow and groaned loudly.
"How about the bathrooms? You won't be near the alcohol, and you can focus on something else," Janus suggested.
"Can I get a—"
"No drinks. We have protective gear and they get cleaned every hour or two. It shouldn't take more than a half-hour for both." Janus stared at Virgil with an intense expression.
"Fine, sure, whatever," Virgil huffed and threw the pillow down on the couch. "… You might need to steer me there," he added, chewing on his lip.
"Everything you need is in here on a cart. I'll take you there. Try to finish fast enough that we can finish the floors all at once," Janus instructed.
"Can I get some motivation? I work faster that way," Virgil muttered as Janus came up and wrapped his arm back around his shoulders. "Like a drink—"
"I make a killer brandy cake"—Janus didn't hesitate to cut Virgil off, shooting him a grim look—"and if you get the bathrooms done on time for us to come in and mop without waiting, I will bring you a piece tomorrow. Don't worry, it's not very sweet, and it's heavy on the brandy." Janus winked and led Virgil to the door.
"Oh, okay. Yeah, I like the sound of that," Virgil smiled at Janus, who opened the door. He wouldn't normally like the sound of food, but this was alcoholic food. He did as promised and kept his arm across Virgil's shoulders and led him to the bathrooms, stopping Virgil when his body started veering to the bar without him.
"Alright, there are masks and elbow-length gloves and even goggles on the cart. There's a special procedure for cleaning up vomit, so just come out and stand near the doors and one of us will help you if anything happens. It was relatively dead tonight, so I'm not worried about you running across any." Janus patted Virgil on the shoulders and pushed him into the women's restroom.
"Things with a blue piece of tape are bleach based and yellow tape is ammonia-based, don't mix them, but otherwise I'm sure a man your age knows how to clean a bathroom by now," Janus smirked playfully. Virgil nodded and reached for a face mask first. Janus left the bathroom and Virgil wiped down the goggles with disinfectant and waited before putting them on. He slipped off his hoodie and dropped his watch in the hoodie's pocket, now hanging on the coat rack before putting on the giant gloves and goggles to get to work.
It wasn't as bad as Virgil expected in here. Some aiming issues, for sure, but that was expected with drunks. He was really interested in the brandy cake and tried to work fast. Basically, anything to get at that brandy would be acceptable to him right now, but it wasn't the worst. It was good they cleaned these so often.
The cleaning wasn't bad. Part of him wanted to run out to the bar, but he knew Janus was watching and he didn't want to piss anyone off. He also really was trying to not drink. He just wanted to have a drink or get away from the drinks and he couldn't decide between the two. Getting sequestered to the bathrooms was a shrewd call since he wanted to help. It was nice to have something to focus on, at least. Scrubbing all the sinks and toilets wasn't exactly mentally taxing, though, and his brain just kept looping back to wanting a drink. Being sober was not good. It was all he could think about.
Virgil switched to the men's room, which was probably equally dirty to the women's room, and would be more of the same from the look of it. Scrub the toilets, disinfect the doors, clean the sinks, shine the mirrors. The floors were going to get cleaned, either way, so he didn't worry about them. Clean water dripped off the toilet brush between toilets as he moved. He worked as swiftly as he could and pushed out the cart when he finished.
Remus was mopping at the other end of the bar, so Virgil pulled himself up onto one of the padded benches that were already cleaned. He slipped back on his watch and hoodie as he sat there patiently, trying not to look at the unmanned bar. Virgil hoped this would all be over soon because this was hard as hell.