Young Writers Society

James gave a weary look down the bar. A man was flirting with the person a seat down from him. And at the end, things seemed to be getting a little heated. In any case, he was glad that none of it involved him, and he waved the bartender down, ordering another drink. When they exchanged his empty glass for another full one he downed it, letting out a small hiss through his teeth as he felt the alcohol burn his throat.

"I'm really, really sorry," Schadel profusely apologized. "It's just that..." What? That he should have probably been dead by now? That his soul had some powerful intervention, and she didn't even know something like that was possible? She couldn't say something like that!

Schadel groaned and rested her head on the table. This wasn't going according to their plan at all. Liz had said this would be a terrible idea, and she should have listened. But she had just wanted the experience, and Edward hadn't gone to one either because he had died on the battlefield right after he became legal, so it had just seemed like it was going to be a wonderful bonding experience for the two.

Then she actually thought about the man's comment, and raised her head. "I'm perfectly legal," she indignantly said. Why did she have to choose such a young looking form? "I'm twenty-three."

"And I'm human-" Edward started to add, only to stop when he noticed the same odd thing that the man had commented on. "Wait, you can smell a war zone on me? How do you even smell a war zone? It's not like there's some specific smell, and I'm not even sitting next to you!"

"It's a very particular mix of smells and you are obviously not human, or at least not a normal one, so stop playing ficking games with me. I've had a very bad, very long day and I advise that you don't test my patience," the German growls. "I've killed a lot of people from that war today and one more won't change much."

"You what?" Edward repeated. His temper finally snapped. The legs of his chair scratched against the floor as he pushed it back with sudden force. Getting to his feet, he stormed over to where the man was sitting and looked down at him. He gave him a dangerous smile. "Tell me that again, because it almost sounds like you were saying that you were alive then. And going by that German accent of yours, that would put you with the Nazis, wouldn't it?"

Schadel sighed and got to her feet as well. Someone had to keep Edward in check in case he decided to suddenly throw a punch - one that would get right through the man if it hit.

Kratzer was on his feet instantly and didn't even dignify this with a reply before swinging a punch at Edward's face...

And his fist went through him.

The vampire blinked. He had hit him, hadn't he?

"Human my arse, the Hölle are you, saftsack?" he demands, eyes involuntarily flashing with that metallic sheen indicative of his true being. In his anger - and, to an extent, his hidden fear - his accent comes out particularly harshly.

"Oh sh-" Edward started, only to be cut off by Schadel swearing even louder than him.

"Scheisse!" she shouted. This wasn't how their bar trip was supposed to go! She should have listen to Liz and listened to Claire and listened to her own common sense because of course someone would try to touch Edward and what were they going to do now that someone knew the truth because it was only a matter of time until-

Wait.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. She was getting all worked up about this for nothing. He wasn't a normal human. He and his soul had made that clear. That meant that revealing the truth was alright to some extent - she just would leave out the part about what she was and pretend that she was a human that could see ghosts. It was what she always did, anyways.

"He's a ghost," Schadel said, stepping in front of Edward to act as the shield he didn't need. Edward opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't let him. The truth had already been revealed. It wasn't like they could hide the fact that the man's hand had gone right through Edward's head. "He's very much human, but just not living."

A deep frown creased his countenance. "Don't lecture me about the war when you couldn't even be bothered to survive it," he growls icily, sitting back down and pouring himself another glass of Vodquila.

I smiled back. "Splendid. I'm Boris-"
My introduction was cut off by yelling from across the bar-room. I darted a glance over at the frazzled German and the two youths who were behind it.

"-Dietrich." I finished. "Pardon my curiousity, but I've never seen eyes so red. Not on a human, at least."
Damn. Did I, in my drunkeness, just infer that she was or was not human? How tactless of me. I hoped she would not take offense-

"Human my arse, the Hölle are you, saftsack?"
"Scheisse!"

My thoughts were interrupted by more hoarse German shouts. It seemed to calm down fairly quickly, but I was one more interruption away from giving them a piece of my mind.

"Pleasure to meet you." they nodded and in turn offered their own name, "I'm- Astrid. Astrid... Smith." with difficulty, they kept their expression neutral while they faltered over a sir name, seamlessly blurting the first that came to mind.

"Between you and I, I'm most definitely not human, but that information is classified." though it was not their intention, this came off as very playful.

"I'm accustomed to discretion. Your secret will be safe with me." At least it would be, for the time it would take me to drain two more glasses. Which was about three minutes, roughly. After that, I made no promises.
I took another swig of vodquila.

"So tell me, what taxing adventures do you seek reprieve from tonight? Or if you can't speak of them, I can share some of mine. I'm feeling uncharacteristically open at the moment."

That was a lie, this openness was entirely characteristic of my current state. But I had to keep some of my pretences.

They paused to order vodka, since now it would be impossible to access their much stronger stash. Hopefully, several drinks would make enough headway on their path to intoxication- it would be difficult to battle their strong alcohol tolerance.

"Just a hard day's work." They shrugged and gratefully accepted the glass from the bartender, "how about you?"

''Same situation, more or less. I'm what you might call a jack of all trades. Journalism, espionage, sabotage, all sorts. But that's only to pay the bills.

There's a singular mystery I have dedicated my life to solving, and somewhere in the underground is a man with the answer. You'll forgive me, I'm sure, if I spare you the particulars.

I've been looking into his contacts, which led me to search a tomb in the Forgotten Quarter, which contained records of his clientele, from which I gained knowledge of a stronghold. I pursued my lead there, snuck past the guards, made it to the gate, dealt with a witness, made it to the second gate, and that gate was protected by a password.
That godforsaken riddle has been eating at me ever since.

And that is this years' progress in my nearly twenty-year search.''

In hindsight, I had revealed a bit much. This is why I usually drank at home. But it had been a hard week, and one does only live once, so I elected to indulge in honesty now and feel stupid about it later.

A look of hurt flickered across Edward's face at the insult. Schadel knew that the comment wouldn't anger him; stuff like that never did. What it would do was make him grow sad and completely ruin his night. The one thing someone was never supposed to use as an insult towards a ghost was their death. It was just common sense, and the polite thing to do!

This guy clearly wasn't all that polite.

"Take that back," Schadel said. She reached behind her and grabbed onto Edward's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as she leveled a glare at the man. She wasn't much for glaring, but someone her had hurt her friend's feelings. "You obviously have no idea what it's like to die, so don't dare use that as insult."

James was finally starting to feel the alcohol start to kick in, and he almost couldn't remember why he started drinking in the first place. But he did remember how the argument in the corner had been progressing, and after seeing one punch thrown, and more voices raised, he found himself walking over - clearly drunk, but still trying to keep a diplomatic look about him - and standing between the girl and her friend, and the man with an accent he didn't recognize. It almost sounded like a mix between Letteran and Northwest Islander, but even then it was off.

He looked at the older man with a scar across his face.

"If you're gonna start a fight, take it outside."

Well that wasn't quite what he'd meant to say.

"Or, better yet, stop talking to each other and just... keep it civil."

"I know exactly what it's like to die," Kratzer retorted icily before glancing over at James and shrugging. "Fine by me," he says, voice still chilly prior to giving Edward and Schadel both the cold shoulder.