Chapter 20
"Aww, shit. Now there's two of you."
Hookhand scowls magnificently, and Eugene gives him his most annoying smirk. "No. There's still only one Eugene Fitzherbert." True, there were two Flynn Riders, but he decides to skip over that minor detail.
"Then what's that?" Hookhand asks, gesturing at Wesley, who shrinks away and cringes.
"This," Eugene says, slapping the kid on the back and pulling him forward, "is Wes, and we're here to show him a good time, so pull on your best hazing boots and don't hold anything back."
The young lord looks like he's about to protest, but can't decide which part to object to first.
Hookhand is not impressed with any of this at all. "What do you want?"
"Two beers for us and a cupcake for Blondie to start us out."
Wes' eyes widen. "Can I have a cupcake too?"
"Is it your tenth birthday?"
"Well… no."
"Then no. You can't have a cupcake."
"But the princess-"
"Yeah, shut up, Rider!" Hookhand shoves his hook threateningly into Eugene's face forcing him to jerk backwards to avoid losing an eye. "If the squirt wants a cupcake, he can damned well have a cupcake, and there's nothing you can do to stop him. Attila! Get over here!"
From across the room Big Nose catches Eugene's eye, points at Rapunzel, and very obviously mouths the words, "How's it going?" He then gives him a questioning gesture. Thumbs up? Or thumbs down? Eugene gives a gesture of his own. It's not a thumb.
Big Nose just shrugs and turns around in his seat to interrupt Goldie's one sided conversation with Ulf and asks her something that makes her blush. This seems a good enough answer for Big Nose as he turns back to Eugene and grins. Thumbs up.
"What's that about?" Wesley asks, handing Eugene a beer and a cupcake so he can carry his own.
"Nothing. That guy's an idiot. Don't listen to anything he says."
"Oh."
Eugene winds his way to the table Rapunzel's saved for them, shoving Ulf out of the way and giving Big Nose a dirty look.
Blondie takes her cupcake with a squeal. "Strawberry today!... Mmm." Her eyes roll back in bliss and the tip of her tongue slides across a dollop of fluffy pink frosting from her lower lip. Eugene's mouth waters at the thought that she probably tastes like sugar now. "He's out done himself today."
"Yeah." He makes a mental note to give Attila something awesome if he ever figures out what exactly that might be.
"Do you two come here often?" Wesley asks, taking a more refined bite of his pastry and eyeing the nearby table of sweaty thugs who are giving them menacing looks. One of them pulls out a knife the length of his forearm and uses it to pick at thin, yellowed teeth.
"Not nearly often enough," Rapunzel says with a sigh. She relaxes her shoulders for the first time since they left the castle, and looks around the room with a contented smile on her face, almost as if this crowded, stinking pit is a nostalgic childhood home. "Everyone's so friendly here."
Wesley scans the room again, trying to see what she sees. He's there to learn, after all, and if the princess isn't intimidated he'd look like a wuss if he chickened out now, so he might as well shake away his fear. One of the thugs rips a chunk of undercooked meat off a skewer and chews it viciously before spitting a hunk of gristle out onto the floor. Wesley doesn't know if he should be horrified or transfixed.
"When do we get started getting into trouble?" he asks. He's eager to have an adventure with someone as cool as Eugene, but he's also getting this icy feeling in his stomach that he's never gotten before when he fantasized about all the marvelous daring do he could get up to. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, and he really is a chicken.
Eugene waves his hand and takes a long gulp of his beer. "Don't worry about it. After a few drinks I'm sure you'll think of something. Drink up."
"But-"
"If it makes you feel better, you're already in trouble just for being here."
"Hmm." He takes a sip and almost gags. "Ugg!"
Rapunzel nods consolingly. "It's nasty stuff."
"Hey, girlie!" Vladamir shouts from a few tables away, "I made that."
She gives him an embarrassed half smile. "I'm sorry, but it tastes like… like broccoli."
"Like watered down piss!" one of the thugs supplies.
"Fermented mud!"
"Burnt dog hair!"
"… citrus?"
"Shut up and quit bitching!"
"Then make better beer!"
"I don't see any of you offering to help."
"I don't mind it so much."
"Fuck off, Rider. No one cares what you think."
Eugene shrugs and turns his attention back to his mug. A moment later, a delicate bare foot runs up the back of his leg, as if trying to console him. Or maybe practice. Given how sticky the floor is, taking off her shoe is probably not the best idea ever, but he's certainly not going to point that out.
"Eugene told me that after the first glass, you can't really taste it anymore," Blondie explains. "He says it's not about the taste, it's about the hum."
"The buzz."
"Right."
Wesley considers this, then braces himself and takes a deep, cringing drink. When he comes up for air, he starts coughing, but he's grinning and almost everyone around the bar cheers.
After one drink Wesley is tipsy. He makes Eugene tell him a story about his Flynn Rider days which has the kid giving him a look of absolute idolization, and has Blondie resting her chin in both hands, watching him with doe eyes and a little, love struck smile.
He's never had a better audience. They gasp in all the right places, and lean in, enraptured as he talks. Even when Shorty sidles up and debunks half his story they stick with him, telling the little geezer to hush and beat it.
Shorty huffs something about knowing when he's not wanted and stumbles away.
"Excuse me a minute," Eugene says, then follows after him to have a brief discussion involving a lot of hand gestures and shoulder patting. When he comes back he drops a bag of money on the table. "You need to keep that in an inside pocket or it'll get lifted again."
Wes looks at him in renewed awe.
"Actually, how about we let Blondie keep up with it. She's the only one around here they won't steal from."
"Yeah. Sure thing."
After two drinks Wes is drunk. Poor thing. He'll have to work on that.
At eleven o'clock Hookhand pulls out an axe, throws it across the room, and bellows at everyone to shut the hell up, before he takes a seat at the rickety little piano and plays a sonata for the silent, intimidated crowd.
"Wow," Wes breathes, his eyes dancing as they follow Hookhand's fingers across the keys. "He's amazing."
Goldie giggles. "One time he played a song just for me. It was about a river."
"I've been studying the piano for fifteen years and I could never even hope to play with such… such passion! And he's only got one hand! It's amazing. I have to go talk to him." This proves to be difficult as Wesley has trouble walking straight and trips over Tor, who snarls at him. But eventually he and Hookhand end up in an enthusiastically drunken conversation about the finer points of tuning theory, counterpoint, and hook maintenance.
"You two are having fun," Blondie whispers, leaning against his side and resting her head against his shoulder.
"Not as much fun as your foot seems to be having." She giggles. "Isn't it getting cold yet."
"Yes."
"Give it here."
She slips her foot from under his knee, crosses her legs the other way, and slides it into his lap. He holds it between his palms for a moment to warm her before he rubs his thumb into the gentle arch of her foot.
"My feet probably aren't that clean."
"I don't mind."
"I think I should have something to drink too."
"You don't like the taste. Remember?"
"No. But you two are having fun and I feel left behind."
"Don't give into peer pressure, Goldie."
"Wesley is."
"But he's not as smart as you." He tries to sell her a smirk, but she's not buying it. "Besides, you're not that far behind me. I won't be drunk for a while."
"Eugene, you need to buy me a drink or I'll have someone else do it."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Big Nose! Can you get me-"
"Fine! Fine! Whatever you say. You're the boss."
She looks smug. "I am."
After a great deal of discussion at the bar, Eugene and the thugs decide that serving the royal princess cheep piss-beer is a bad idea. She might go blind. They go on to decide that they should just start her on liquor. There's a bottle of really nice rum around somewhere, which has a flavor she might enjoy, and they could mix it with… uh, orange juice? No, the orange juice has gone bad. Cranberry juice? Yeah, like they have cranberry juice.
Attila comes to the rescue when he figures out that they have the stuff to make a mojito. No one else knows what that is, which thoroughly disgusts Attila and his more refined tastes.
After Wesley's third drink (half of one for Rapunzel, four for Eugene, and about two dozen for Big Nose, who's now sitting with them) he starts waxing poetic about the girl he's smitten with, which Eugene thinks is a bit stomach churning.
"…and she has the most beautiful hair," Wes sighs, a distinctive slur slipping into his words. "It's black and straight and shiny and long, and you just want to touch it."
"I used to have pretty hair," Goldie says dreamily, a flush beginning to seep across her cheeks.
"You still do," Eugene says, but his comment is ignored.
"It was golden blonde and it was long. So. Long. And it was magical. And it would glow."
Wesley snorts.
"It was! Wasn't it, Eugene?"
"It was," he agrees.
"Yeah. It was freaky," says Big Nose. "It was all dragging around on the floor. Shocking it didn't always have mud in it."
"Or blood."
"Or tangles! I got tangles in my hair. See?" Big Nose pulls off his winged helmet to show off a little tuft of unruly, brown hair.
"It was magic," Blondie explains. "And I could use it for so many things. I could use it like a blanket, or a ladder, or a rope… one time I even used it to tie up Eugene."
"What?" Big Nose's jaw drops and his eyes bulge. "No shit, you ugly, lucky bastard."
"Shut up. It wasn't like that."
"Like what?" Goldie asks.
"Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it? What are you, broken? Damn it, Rider, you lived the dream and let us all down! You're a disgrace."
"What dream?" she asks.
"Being tied up by a beautiful woman so she can have her way with you, that's what."
"What?" She glances over at Eugene, but her brain feels a bit fuzzy and her head feels a bit warm and it's making it hard to figure out what's going on. "I thought you didn't like being tied up."
"I didn't."
"Because he's broken."
"But why would you like it? You were my prisoner." She says this with just the right amount of possessive pride that it makes the statement about a thousand times worse.
"I hate you, Rider." Big Nose glares and spits and shoves himself to his feet to stalk off in a huff.
After Wesley's fifth beer (Goldie's second, and Eugene's eighth) Eugene's vision is starting to blur. He's feeling so good that he agrees that it would be a great idea to teach Wes and Goldie how to pick pockets. He gives them a rundown of the basics, some dos and don'ts, and demonstrates by easily taking one of the princess' earrings. Pearls. Nice. He then sends them out to try their luck, because this will be fun and safe and educational.
Wesley comes stumbling back with a black eye and a grin. He says that next time he'll try to be more subtle, but he trips over the word "subtle" and crumples onto the table.
Poor light weight.
Rapunzel shows up a few minutes later, and presents him with Hookhand's hook.
"He said that he needs… he needs it back in a minute."
"You asked him?"
"Yes."
"And you're going to give it back?"
"Of course," she scoffs. "It's his hand! He can't do without it!"
"I think you missed the point."
"More like you missed the point." She pokes him hard in the chest, leaning precariously to the left.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking… about… I don't know!" She collapses across him in a fit of wild giggles.
"You're a nut."
"I love you, Eugene Fittttzz-zerbert. You're fun."
"You're a blast too, Sunshine."
"I'm gonna… tie you up… and," snirk, "have my way with you."
"Don't repeat things that idiot says."
"Why not?" She snuggles deeper into his chest, suddenly too tired to open her eyes. "You get the funniest face."
"Thanks."
She sighs as her body relaxes against him. "You're welcome."