taxonomites | [visual | location: a Wilde bar] the streets of gold i've yet to find

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[visual | location: a Wilde bar] the streets of gold i've yet to find

After February Jason needed several rounds of a good beer. Drinking on his own was fine, but not knowing where his own local bar was located, in his opinion, was just sad. It didn't take long for him to find what looked like a sports bar. Thankfully it looked much more like Merlotte's than Fangtasia.

When he sat down and ordered what was on draft the bartender slid across a full mug without asking for payment. Looking confused, Jason asked the extra how much his drink would cost him. After informing him that during the month of March, all alcohol was free in Taxon, the bartender left to bustle about his busy non-business.

Jason quickly pulled out his tablet, eager to be the bearer of good news. "Hey, I dunno who all is watchin' this but alcohol is free all month! I don't care what anyone else does, but I'm getting myself trashed right the fuck now. If you wanna make it a party and join in I am ok with that too."

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"Alcohol on the house, as it were?" The man laughed softly, shaking his head a bit. "I suppose we should be grateful for small comforts..."

Of course it was on the house, what else did free alcohol mean? "You call free booze all month small? You know how much we'd all have to pay for it back home?"

Jason didn't know either, but he could guess a high number.

Ever the literal interpreter, Long considered the question a moment, head tilting to one side.

"That depends on a great many factors, such as what quality of alcohol one is accustomed to, and one's liquor tolerance, but we can conservatively assume at least a hundred dollars for minor appetites and perhaps up to a thousand or more for the excessive lush, or the connoisseur...

"In any case, they would need to bribe me with more than alcohol before I would lightly forget the indignities of the last week or so."

He was forced to be naked, not that Jason knows that.

There isn't enough liquor in the world.

"Whoa, buddy. I didn't hear a word you just said." It sounded like a lot of money and some kind of negative reaction or other. Jason was pretty sure he could chalk this one up to someone else not being too happy about the zombies. What did he hate about it so much?

"Did you die?"

Long sighs.

"No, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. My home was half-destroyed, however--" (not the zombie's fault, that) "--and I was...

"...placed in an embarrassing situation with regards to the, ah, 'zombies'," he settles for saying, primly.

"Thinking on it, a drink might be the perfect thing to wash away the memories."

"Oh man. I'm sorry about your house, bud. Did it come back?" Jason wonders what he would do if his home were destroyed. Or worse, his truck.

As if a sudden idea came to him he looks thoughtfully at the tablet. "D'you need any help rebuilding? I used to work road construction."

"Hotel room, technically, and no, it is still quite damaged. Ah well. Attachment creates suffering," Long sighed, with something of a wry smile.

"But it is very kind of you to offer, so thank you. What is it you do now?"

"Attachment ain't all bad," Jason says with a shrug. "You don't make friends without it."

"I'm a cop - in training. Or at least I was before getting here."

"Quite true. It is... a religious concept, in Buddhism, moreso than my personal philosophy, because I am very unsuccessful in applying it to my life. Hence my mourning for my room," Long said with a small small.

"A policeman? Another one? There are certainly quite a lot of you! Especially in a city that I think has no crime." The smile became a grin. "I hope you do not all become very bored, but I suppose the zombies would keep that from happening."

Words, words, something about Buddhism. At the mention of philosophy Jason tunes out until there is something he can even begin to form a reply to.

"Hey man, I told you that I used to rebuild shit. I liked bein' a cop but that don't mean that's all I know how to do."

"Oh, I am certain you have many applicable skills, Mister-- ...I am sorry, I haven't caught your name nor given my own.

"Mayland Long. A pleasure."

"Jason Stackhouse," he returns in greeting, giving the tablet a nod. Jason knew that he could probably activate the map if he wanted to learn names sooner, but he preferred doing things the old fashioned way when it came to socializing.

"Good to meet you back, Mr. Long."

"Mr. Stackhouse, then," Long said.

"Your words seem to hint at a past full of interesting trades beyond merely the construction, or I am inferring too much?"

"I think you kinda are," Jason said, feeling a little apologetic. "I been a cop and worked on the road crew. Oh, but I worked my way up to supervisor there. That's something."

"Ah well," said Long easily.

"Then you are used to command. May I ask what caused you to leave a position of authority for the often thankless world of law enforcement?"

He sounds genuinely interested.

"Supervisor or not, it's still road work. It don't exactly impress people." In his mind, law enforcement had a dignity to it that Jason wasn't sure that he could find for himself otherwise.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't believe I could do it," Long answered thoughtfully.

"It's dusty work, I imagine? At least if the day is hot-- is one required to go out in wet conditions as well? If so, I certainly could not do it. To say nothing of ordering other men to do so."

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[visual | location: a Wilde bar] the streets of gold i've yet to find

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