Another week another update.


Crue had found it. The promised land. Somewhere that he could finally relax from the Hell the world has thrown at him.

A pub.

Crue gave a sigh of relief. He had managed to give the Ace-Ops the slip a short while before finding this town. A large wall ran around it, and it had the same style as the rest of the towns he had briefly passed through on his journey to Mistral.

He didn't get a lot of rest in those towns, literally only able to stop to pick up as many supplies as he could fit in his bag before the Ace-Ops showed up once more. But he was certain he had enough time for this.

He walked into the establishment with a smile. "Hey! Didn't you see the fuckin' sign?" Crue's smile was replaced by a scowl as he turned to the one who had shouted. He was immediately aware of the fact that no one else in the building was a Faunus.

"The fuck do you think?" He asked the rather large and red-faced man, gesturing to his eyepatch. He hadn't encountered much in the way of racism on his travels, but he hadn't exactly been chatty with the locals.

"It says 'No animals'!" The man slammed a tankard onto the table as the rest of his table jeered.

"Oh, yeah? Then why'd they let you in?" The man's response was to immediately shoot to his feet and attempt to squeeze out of the booth he was in.

The sound of Freedom and Sorrow's claws baring brought him to a standstill, and quickly drowned out any other noise the patrons had been making. Crue probably could have cut the tension with the claws he just showed.

"H-Huntsman." One of the man's friends managed to stammer out. Crue let his eye roam over the rest of the clientele. None of them seemed to be carrying any kind of weapon, and Crue briefly wondered if he should rob them.

The thought was dismissed immediately, as it would only serve to worsen their opinions of Faunus, and also, knowing his luck, one of the Ace-Ops would probably walk in on it. "Yeah. Huntsman." Crue nodded, looking to the group as he brought his claws up to point at the one who had exclaimed.

"The same kind of Huntsman that fights Grimm on the regular. And right now, all that Huntsman wants is a goddamn drink." He kept his claws trained on the bigger man as he made his way to the bartender, weaving around a paused game of pool.

Crue briefly wondered if it had the same name. His one eye continued to flicker between everyone, judging who was most likely to try something. It was a skill he had picked up before his time in Remnant, and now had a very good reason to keep the skill sharpened.

He came to a stop before the bar, staring at the man behind it. He held a deep frown as he puffed up his chest and tried to make himself look more intimidating. "I don't serve Faunus."

"Ya fuckin' do now ya cunt." Crue reached to his chest, briefly sheathing his claws on Sorrow so he could grab his hip flask. He slammed it down on the counter, his claws shooting out once more. Despite the bartender's bravado, he flinched at the sound.

"You fill this up, and I'll be out. No trouble." He allowed his head to turn, so that his eye could stare at the rest of the room. "Provided no one else tries anything." There was no sound, aside from a strange, repeated scratching.

Crue looked to his other side and saw an old looking jukebox next to a shutting employee door. Crue shrugged it off, before turning to look at the bartender once more. The bartender looked like he was still debating simply denying Crue's request.

"Hey, look at it this way. You might give me alcohol poisoning." He suggested. Unlikely, given the fact he couldn't drink more than what was in the flask at a time. And he'd have to make it last until the next time he found a bar.

One that hopefully wasn't populated with racists.

The bartender gave a grunt and produced a bottle from under the counter. It looked like the most bottom shelf whiskey he had available. Crue gave a roll of his eye but allowed him to fill up his flask.

"There." The bartender capped it forcefully, causing the flask to tip over. It made a dull thunk as fell. Crue looked back up unamused.

With another roll of his eye, he reached out to grab his flask. And then, the door to the pub opened. Crue felt pain erupt in his cheek, as he went flying from the bar and crashed into the wall. He gave a groan and looked to where he had been standing.

"Great. Just what I fucking need." He got to his feet, as Harriet Bree brought her mechanical fist back.

The bartender had jumped back in shock, and most of the room had leapt to their feet. "You really need to slow down once in a while, and not hop to conclusions." Crue rolled his shoulder as he glared at the Specialist.

"Got your claws out and robbing a bar. What's not to get." Harriet's hand reached to her side, where Crue knew she'd be able to call the rest of the Ace-Ops to her position.

"Go on. Call them. You'll need all the help you can get." Harriet froze at Crue's words. His steel blue eye bored into her as she grit her teeth.

"What?" She hissed, hand's clenching into fists. Crue felt his anger growing. He was angry at multiple things. The racists, the fact he was given shitty whiskey, and now he can't even drink the damn thing.

"You're gonna need every damn advantage you can get. Here, I'll even give you another one." His claws were sheathed, and he let his gauntlets fall off. They hit the ground, cracking the wood as Crue brought his bare fists up.

"You think you can beat me like that?" Harriet looked positively outraged at the insinuation, and several of the bar goers began to quickly make their way out.

"Oh, abso-fuckin-lutely. Cause you, Wabbit, fucked up." Crue's smile was nothing short of dangerous. He slammed a fist down on the jukebox next to him, and music immediately began to play.

"You challenged me to a bar fight."

[When Everything Went Wrong – Fantastic Negrito]

Crue kicked up a barstool and flung it towards Harriet. It shattered into splinters as Harriet's fist flew forward. Crue was immediately in her face, as her pink eyes widened and Crue brought up his own fist in an uppercut.

It cracked against Harriet's jaw, the Specialist letting the blow send her backward, bringing a leg up to kick at Crue as the motion carried her. She gave a growl as she backed up, and Crue's head snapped down with a smirk.

Nearly all of the patrons had ran, the only one left being the bartender who was peeking over the counter. Lightning sparked around Harriet, as she rushed Crue. The Faunus leaned to the side, and Harriet felt something smack her in the face as she recoiled, before the same feeling struck her in the back of her head.

The blow, added with Crue sticking his leg out, sent Harriet tripping onto the floor and sliding cheek first along it with her legs stuck up in the air. Her momentum stopped and she immediately got to her feet and whirled round, her eyes wide and angry with a long red mark down the side of her face.

Crue took a stance and raised one hand back, as he pointed at her with a pool cue. "En garde." He gave his best infuriating smirk, one that had Harriet rushing to her feet and throwing punches at him with abandon.

Crue slapped each of them away, diverting them at the last second while occasionally slamming the tip against Harriet's chest. He brought the cue back to block one of Harriet's punches and felt himself go sliding back.

He spun the pool cue round in a blur, before slamming it down on the pool table itself. Several of the billiards bounced up from the impact, and Crue swung the cue. It impacted the 8 ball, sending it rocketing towards Harriet.

It was destroyed from a blow thanks to Harriet, shards of black pelting her as she squinted her eyes. Crue leapt up onto the table, swinging the pool cue from the thinner end to smack another ball towards Harriet.

The Specialist dodged this one, jumping up onto the table alongside Crue and began throwing punches once more. The smaller table made it more difficult to avoid, but if there was one thing Crue prided himself on, it was not getting punched in the face.

And luckily, that seemed to be where Harriet was directing most of her anger. Her pink eyes glared daggers at Crue, as if hoping he would somehow spontaneously combust from her anger. Because her attention was solely on Crue's dodging, she missed him kicking a billiard under her foot.

Harriet stepped forward and onto the ball, losing her footing almost immediately and Crue took the opportunity to slam his cue against Harriet, sending her crashing from the table and into a booth. She was panting, and Crue took the opportunity to take a breath and leap down from the pool table, walking over to the bar and grabbing his hip flask.

He unscrewed it and took a gulp, letting a sigh of relief as he put it back where it belonged. He cracked his neck, before turning round to face Harriet once more. She got up from her place in the booth, brushing her thumb against her nose as she glared.

"How the Hell are you fighting this well?" She asked, rolling her own arms as she slammed her fists together. "You never fought like this before."

"Homefield advantage." Crue smiled, holding the pool cue on his shoulder. "You start a bar fight with an Irishman, you're gonna lose." He swung it round, holding it at the middle and pointing it diagonally.

Harriet burst forward in a flash of lightning, as Crue brought the cue up horizontally. Harriet grabbed onto the cue, pushing it back with all her might. The servos on her suit whirred as she grit her teeth and forced Crue onto the backfoot.

Crue actually felt his foot slide back despite his best attempts. He let a growl rumble from his throat as he brought his head back and prepared a headbutt. Unfortunately, Harriet had the exact same idea.

Their foreheads connected with a grunt from both parties, as they kept their heads pressed against one another and glared. Crue's ear suddenly flicked to his right, as he heard a distinctive sound. He pushed Harriet back with enough force to send her onto her ass, and Crue narrowly brought his head back to avoid the bullet that had been fired.

Both fighters turned, seeing the open employee door and a man standing there. He wore what looked like a torn short sleeved kimono with a strap over his shoulder, the smoking revolver in his hand suggested that he wasn't happy to see them fighting.

What stood out to Crue, was the boxes of what looked like contraband in the room behind him. "Bad guy." Crue stated, before realising that the newcomer was standing over his gauntlets. The hammer on the man's gun clicked as he aimed at Crue.

Crue had a curse ready to leave his lips, before something white suddenly cracked against the man's temple and sent the shot wide. Crue took the opportunity to run forward, swinging his pool cue round and against the man's wrist that was holding the gun.

He let out a cry of pain, as Crue twisted the cue before slamming it point down onto the ground and ducking. Harriet leapt over his crouched form, grabbing onto the pool cue and swinging round it, slamming her feet into the man and sending him flying back into the room.

He crashed into a crate that cracked open, spilling out several rifles as he groaned in pain. His eyes opened just in time to see the two fists of Crue and Harriet slamming into his face, rendering him unconscious immediately.

The two were left in the employee only room, panting slightly. Crue was the first to regain his breath and sighed. "So, this is definitely going to be reported to Winter." He shook his head, before noticing the cue ball rolling into the room.

He looked up from it to Harriet with a raised eyebrow. "Don't give me that." She said immediately. "If you think someone's a bad guy, they're probably a really bad guy."

"Yeah, but I'm not a bad guy. I just recognise them." Crue said, bending down and inspecting the man. He checked his pulse, and found it beating steadily. He pulled at one of the sleeves, revealing his bare arm.

"What are you doing?" Harriet asked, crouching down next to him as she grabbed one of the rifles and examined it. They were grey and rectangular, with red scattered through the design.

"Checking for gang tattoos. Bad guys love to show off." He pulled up the man's other sleeve, and paused at what he saw. A stylised pink flower with various petals was inked into the man's arm. It reminded him vaguely of Ren's symbol, which worried him greatly. "Does this mean anything to you?" He asked Harriet.

The Specialist took one look at the tattoo and her eyes widened. "Ah, fuck." Crue cursed, letting the arm drop, but not before snapping a picture of the tattoo. "I'd call the others now, if I were you." He got up in annoyance, making his way out of the employee room.

With the fact there were clearly weapons being dealt out of the back of this pub, it meant one thing to Crue. This place was a front. Which meant he could take whatever the Hell he liked with a clear conscience.

"Now, what are you doing?" Harriet's voice came from within the room as Crue made his way behind the bar, searching through the various drinks. The bartender had disappeared during their fight, presumably getting the Hell out once it became too dangerous.

"Getting a God damn drink. Seeing as that's all I came in here to do anyway." He grabbed a bottle, checking the name and cracking it open before giving it a sniff. "Ugh. Campari." He put the drink back and kept searching.

"Wait. You were actually just getting a drink?" Harriet came out of the room, dragging the man with her. He was tied up with the same equipment Crue often found himself bound in. When Crue nodded, she frowned. "You had your claws out."

"Oh, they were racist." Crue gave a wave as if it explained everything. And, unfortunately for Harriet, it kind of did. "They were acting like cunts, so I just showed the claws, told them to pour me a drink and I'd be on my way."

"But now…" He came up from behind the bar in time to witness Harriet lift up the pool table by one corner and drop it so its leg was between the man's conjoined arms. "I know this place was a front. So, they can go fuck themselves and I can actually get a decent drink."

He placed two glasses on the counter and grabbed a bottle. "You like amaretto?" He asked, pouring some into one glass.

"I-Do you expect me to drink with you?" Harriet looked at Crue like he had grown a second head.

"Well unless you can think of a better way to pass the time until the rest of the Aesops get here." He responded, swirling his glass and taking a sniff. "Ooh. That's some good stuff." He took a swig and gave a sigh of content.

"What else they got in here?" He wondered, diving back down behind the bar as Harriet let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Reluctantly, she took a seat on one of the remaining barstools and laid her elbows on the counter.

Crue popped back up with a few bottles and looked at Harriet with gleeful surprise. "Just to check, your Semblance doesn't include like, an accelerated metabolism or anything does it?" His words caused Harriet to blink in surprise that such scientific terms could come from his mouth.

"Uh, no." She said, before shaking her head to dispel the question and her surprise. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this."

"Eh." Crue shrugged. "Consider it 'keeping an eye on a fugitive until backup arrives'." With that, he poured a mixture of drinks into Harriet's glass and pushed it towards her, before drinking his own. Harriet stared at the concoction warily.

She didn't mind the occasional drink after a mission, but that was usually just a few beers in her room, and this was a mission that was still ongoing. And about to get a lot more complicated if that tattoo she saw was anything to go by. On second thought, maybe a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

She gave the drink a testing sniff, before taking a sip. Her eyes widened. It was… good. Really good. "How'd you make this?" She asked, looking up to Crue, who was currently in the process of grabbing more bottles and inspecting them.

"It comes naturally." He sounded as if he had made a joke, but Harriet didn't get it. "But, honestly I just took a lot, of extra-curriculars. Anything to give me a reason to not stay out on the streets." A frown briefly flit across his face, before it vanished as he found what he was looking for.

"Some good ol' uisce beatha." He poured some into a shot glass and threw it back, swirling it round in his mouth for a moment. "Yep, that's the closest I'll get to it here." He grabbed another two glasses and put a few cubes of ice in each, before getting the whiskey and mixing it with the amaretto.

"Two Godfathers, on the rocks." He pushed one forward and took a moment to savour his own. Harriet wasn't as fond of this one as the last. Too almondy. She also didn't get the name.

"Your Godfather make you this?" She asked.

"What? No, it's based on the movie." Crue gave an odd look, before his face suddenly turned a shade of pale.

"The movie? You mean the one with Marron Brandy Jr?"

Crue's response was to slam his head down onto the bar with a grumble, rattling the glasses and causing Harriet to raise an eyebrow. "Fucking puns." He growled, before bringing his head back up and downing his drink in hopes of forgetting the joke.

"You're a Hell of a hypocrite, considering all the puns you make." Harriet said, pushing her drink to the side.

"Hey, I make good ones." Crue responded immediately, before his one eye widened. "Christ, I sound like Yang." He sighed, looking around for more drinks. Harriet was about to ask who Yang was, before she remembered the name.

Yang Xiao-Long was the contestant in the Vytal Festival that kneecapped her opponent after he was already out of Aura. However, with the information that General Ironwood had provided her and the rest of the Ace-Ops, she was aware of her innocence.

"This smells like Tia Maria." Harriet's attention was drawn back to Crue, who had the neck of a large black bottle under his nose. He grabbed two glasses and poured, sliding one to Harriet who took an experimental sniff.

It smelled sweet, like vanilla. "By the way…" Crue began, taking a sip from his glass and setting it down as Harriet did the same. "When are you gonna tell Tortuga you like her?" The Specialist began to cough roughly as the drink went down wrong.

"Oh shit!" Crue quickly reached across and thumped Harriet on her back. Her throat eventually cleared and she took a large breath, before her pink eyes widened and she slapped Crue's arm away.

"What the Hell are you talking about? I-I don't like Tortuga!" Her cheeks were tinted red, though it was hard to tell if it was from the alcohol or the question.

Crue responded by leaning an elbow on the counter and raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Harriet sat upright on the bar stool as she took in a deep breath through her nose. "I don't like her like that! And I wouldn't do that to Clover after everything he's done for me!"

"Do what? They're hardly dating." He poured some more of the drink as he checked the label. It read 'Aunt Mary'. Crue's eye twitched as he nearly cracked the bottle.

"They used to! But, they broke up once they both got into the Ace-Ops." Harriet continued, unaware of Crue's inner rage at the brand. "We can't have relationships within the group. It could mess things up."

"That your excuse or someone else's?" He asked, before the other thing that Harriet said clicked. "Wait. Uhh… I don't think they were actually dating." Given how the two had reacted when he mentioned 'beards', and Atlas' view on that kind of thing he had an idea of what might have happened.

"Did they both have lots of people trying to ask them out during their academy days?" He asked. Given it was Atlas, and probably as racist as he had heard it was, he figured Clover had more admirers than Tortuga. Which made sense. He was a good-looking guy.

Crue paused, blinking in surprise. "Huh. I think I just learned something about myself." He shrugged it off, waiting for Harriet to answer. She seemed to be trying to remember, which was difficult due to the alcohol.

"I, I think so." She nodded to herself.

"And they're both very focused on their jobs and studies. So, they pretended to date each other to stop people asking them out." He tried to give an explanation that wouldn't end with him accidentally outing either Specialist.

"Besides, they're your friends. They'd probably be ok with-" "We're not friends." Harriet cut across the Faunus, downing the rest of her drink as her pink eyes seemed to lose focus.

"The Ace-Ops is a job. We can count on each other to keep us alive, but that's it. We don't form relationships. Friendly or otherwise."

"Oh that's fucked."

Harriet blinked, apparently sobering up slightly at Crue's words. "You're a team. Friendships are bound to happen. And there's nothing wrong with that. When you fight for someone you care about, you fight harder."

His own steely blue eye was staring off into the distance, remembering his fight with Cinder atop the tower. It didn't matter that he could have died at any moment. When it came down to it, someone he cared about was in danger. That made Crue a lot more dangerous.

"You'll lose that mentality soon enough." Harriet said, staring down at her drink as Crue poured some more 'Aunt Mary'. "You're still just a kid. Can't believe it's a kid that's been causing us all this trouble."

"Oi. I'm eighteen. That's an adult. Hell, I'm gonna be nineteen in-" Crue suddenly froze. "Wait. What date is it?"

"Uh, the tenth?" Harriet answered as best she could. Maybe she should slow down on the drinks. But it was so sweet. The Specialist drank some more, not noticing Crue's panicked expression.

"How far out are the others?" He took out his own Scroll, checking the time and date.

"Ugh. I don't know. A while." Harriet gave a dismissive wave. She had never drank this much before. And certainly not with a criminal. She suddenly gave a massive gasp. "Wait! You're a bad guy!" She pointed a finger at Crue, who looked up in confusion.

His one eye briefly flit over her form, before he gave a groan. "Fuck. You're out of it, aren't you?"

"I'm not out of anything!" Harriet's face was red, before she looked down. "Except this!" She held the glass out at what seemed like a respectable distance from Crue. Crue's face was scrunched up from the cool glass pressing against his cheek.

"Of course, you get drunk this fast." He sighed, taking the glass and holding it next to the bottle that Harriet was eyeing greedily. "Hey, why don't you put on some music." He nodded to the jukebox. The moment Harriet's head turned away, Crue quickly filled up a glass with water and set it on the counter.

"Nah." Harriet shook her head much too wildly for Crue's liking. She returned her attention to the bar, and saw the glass of water. "What's that?" She flicked it with a finger.

"Uh, sweet vodka." Crue said. Harriet's pink eyes looked intrigued as she brought it up and took a gulp.

"Hey. This isn't sweet." She frowned, lowering it and staring at the drink in confusion.

"You just haven't drank enough of it."

"Ohhhh. That makes sense." Harriet gave a nod and drank the rest of the glass. It was at that point, the door was slammed open.

Harriet and Crue turned at the noise, and saw the doorway quickly become obscured by the silhouettes of two people. Elm and Tortuga entered, weapons at the ready, before their eyes landed on the two at the bar.

"Towtuga!" Harriet cried out in joy, throwing her hands up and immediately falling off her stool. Crue let his hand smack himself in the face as he groaned.

"What the Hell is going on?" Elm asked, lowering her weapon as Tortuga did the same, both of them looking to the only person who wasn't currently on the floor.

"We found a criminal." He pointed to the unconscious man by the pool table. "And we also found out this place is a front. I figured we should have a drink while we wait for ye, and it turns out…" He looked to the ground, where Harriet had sat up with a giggle.

"Wabbit can't hold her drink."

"Don't call me that." Harriet whined, crossing her arms and pouting as she looked away from Crue. Her tone was such a far cry from what it usually was it caused everyone to stare at her in disbelief.

"So, yeah. Fun times all round." Crue said sarcastically. Tortuga pressed a finger against her ear and said something that Crue couldn't hear, as Elm walked forward and looked down at Harriet.

"Just so you know, I'm never letting you live this down." The much bigger woman smiled widely. Harriet looked from Elm to the floor in confusion.

"I'm already down?"

Elm gave a loud laugh, before looking to Crue. "What did you give her?"

"Tia Ma-" Crue stopped, his eye twitching slightly. "Aunt Mary." He looked like he wanted to hit something, and Elm wondered why that was the case.

"Oh. This is going to be a problem." They turned, seeing Tortuga staring at the unconscious man. She had his sleeve pulled up and was looking at the tattoo.

"You think that's bad. You should check in there." Crue said, jabbing a thumb to the employee only room. Elm did so.

"Oh. Crap." Her voice carried.

"Yep." Crue nodded, more to himself as Tortuga had finished examining the unconscious man. "Glad you found us, anyway. Guess Wabbit-" "I said stoppp." "-Jaysus she is fucked. Guess she managed to call yous here anyway."

"She ran ahead to check the town." Tortuga spoke up, walking over to Crue with a cautious glance, still recalling the last time he slipped away. "How'd you know this was here? You aren't doing yourself a lot of good convincing us you aren't a criminal."

"Oi. I just came in here for a drink." Crue frowned. "But, they were being racist cunts, so I may have threatened them slightly."

"And we got in a fight!" Harriet called helpfully from the ground, as Crue's eye twitched. Tortuga looked her teammate up and down, checking her for injuries. When she found none, she returned her attention to Crue with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, why'd'ya think the dudes out?" He nodded to the man on the ground. "Shot at us, we kicked his ass, found out he was a criminal. And then we waited for you." He conveniently left out the part where Harriet entered the building and immediately decked him in the face.

"He'ssss slippery." Harriet slurred, laughing to herself as she attempted to pull herself up onto a barstool.

"Yeah, I'm guessing her Semblance is making it worse for her." He suggested. He then made a mental note to make sure Ruby stayed well away from any strong alcohol. "Although maybe she'd like a White Russian. Or would that be a 'White Atlesian' here?"

He'd ask later. Much later, as thanks to Harriet reminding him what day it was, he knew he had to be free of the Ace-Ops sooner rather than later. "Do you guys want a drink while you wait for the others?"

"After seeing what happened to her?" Elm came back out of the room with a look of disbelief. "We need to be completely sober to deal with this." She looked to Tortuga. "There's some serious firepower back there, and they look ready to ship out."

"Great." Tortuga sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, it's not like this wasn't part of the job anyway." She turned her attention to the unconscious man, gesturing for Elm to come over.

"That tattoo means trouble. The Hana guild is some serious business." The Faunus explained, as Elm nodded.

"You think he'll talk?" She asked, looking the man up and down. He didn't look particularly strong, but that might also mean he didn't have a lot of information.

"BYEEE!" Harriet suddenly called from behind them. The two turned, seeing their ally waving at the door. Their heads immediately snapped to the bar, where Crue could no longer be seen.

"If they ask…" Tortuga began, realising they had both turned their back on a criminal. "…he got away after you hit him through the door."

"Yep. And after we fought valiantly to tie him up. Shame he's so slippery." Elm agreed.

"Sssssslippy." Harriet giggled on the floor. The two sober Ace-Ops sighed.

"She is gonna have one Hell of a hangover." Elm said, before a smile made its way onto her face. "And I can't wait to make fun of her for it."

"Just go easy on her." Tortuga said, walking over to the drunken Specialist in question. Harriet's pink eyes stared up at her as her head was tilted to the side. "You alright, Hare?" She asked softly.

"Oh no." Harriet whispered. Though, a drunken whisper was more like a regular shout. "He was right."

"Right about what?" Tortuga rose a green eyebrow in confusion.

"Nothing!" Harriet exclaimed, holding her arms before her red face in a defensive manoeuvre. Tortuga turned back to look at Elm, who gave a shrug.

"Maybe we'll find out once she sobers up." She suggested, before feeling a vibration as she took out her Scroll. "The others are almost here."

She placed the Scroll back in her pocket and approached the downed man. "At least this guy is a criminal from here. We can toss him into this towns prison after interrogating him." She lifted up the pool table with one hand, and with the other grabbed the connected wrists of the man and hauled him up.

A groan came from him, but the eyes remained closed. "Let's get this over with. And then we can go after Crue." Elm said. "Wonder why he didn't stick around."

"It'sh almost his birfday!" Harriet answered, peeking between her arms. The answer brought more questions, as everything with Crue tended to do. Despite the situation, Elm couldn't help but gain a smirk as she looked to Tortuga.

"Do you think if we get a birthday cake he'll come back?"


It's been a while since I've had a music cue in the story, lol. Also if you can't tell I have seen Arcane, and honestly it was an amazing show. Great music in it as well.

But yeah, BAR FIGHT! Crue in his natural habitat, one on one against the Ace-Op with the biggest temper that he could exploit was a recipe for rabbit stew. Luckily they could bond over a few drinks. Though I'm certain that bond will be broken once Harriet wakes up from one of the worst hangovers known to man. One of the best things about RWBY is that there's so much stuff to draw from that doesn't include the main show, which is something some of you might have noticed with that tattoo.

But, that will come back to bite them another time. For now, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, let me know if you did, and as always...

Until Next Time

-Friday