Young Writers Society

Damn. I didn't realize that James was the bashful sort. I usually got a sense of satisfaction from making people blush, and that feeling was not entirely absent in this situation, but I did feel somewhat remorseful for making the poor bloke feel uncomfortable.

''Don't, don't worry about it.'' I said woozily, with a lazy dismissive gesture.
"I jusht got a little too, a bit excited there. Sorry about that. Bloody gin, alwaysh gets me sentimental.''

James shook his head, though he regretted it immediately after. The room was starting to spin a little bit.

"No, nno, you were just bein' nnice and s-stuff. I'm just not -" he stopped himself, letting out a frustrated groan. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rid himself of the crusty tearful eye feeling. "I'mnotusedtoitandIhateit," he mumbled in one word, assuming himself unintelligible. With a sigh, he looked back over to Boris, finally letting himself really look at him, at least, with eyes not full of tears. A sprout of curiosity grew in him.

"H-how old are you, Boris?"

''Oh, thirty, you nosy parker.'' I paused, and turned to look back at him.

"Why, you checking if I'm young enough for you? Becaush if I'm your type, I feel even sorrier for you than I did before. It'sh not a good idea to go for people with baggage...at least, not for more'n a night or two." I chuckled, and sighed.

"Ah, like I haven't done that myshelf."

I spaced out for a moment, and started to think about previous conquests, which led me on a train of thought that started with corsets, and ended with beards.

''...Do you think I could pull off a beard?'' I asked, finally.

James had only asked because he was wondering how long Boris had been away from his brother. He would have never asked it directly, of course, and even with a number he was incapable of doing the approximations and math in his head. He didn't have enough information to go off of, but before he could even think much more about it, Boris changed the subject.

"Can you grow one?" he asked.

''Oh, yes. I've jusht been shaving. You, you can be brutally honest, if need be. I have confidensh of shteel when it comes to my looksh. I can take it."

James fluttered his eyelashes for a moment as his vision focused on Boris's face. He was trying to get an honest, objective opinion.

"I think..." he paused, resting his chin in his hand, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. You could grow a beard. Might age you, but they always do. Age... everybody."

Astrid blinked slowly at Schadel, registering the words 'ghost' and 'necromancy'. They didn't bother concealing a shudder of distaste. This girl was a reaper- of course it would make sense that she owned an angency like that.

"Well... kudos to you." They slurred, raising their emptying glass, "someone ha to do it, and I'm just glah it's nah meh."

They rubbed their eyes and patted the stool next to them, noticing that Schadel was still standing.

"Go on, I won bite. I need some advice, if you're willing to offeh it."

"Uh, thanks," she hesitantly said. She sat down in the stool. "What do you need advice about? I'm not sure I'm really qualified to give it. I just help ghosts move on sometimes, and the administration doesn't even like me that much because I'm so young and so involved in human stuff..."


Edward took another large swig of his drink, shuddering at the memories that followed - though they weren't particularly bad or good, the sensation was incredibly bizarre. He got refills on both his drink and Schadel's and went to where she was now sitting.

But, in the process of doing so, he bumped right up against the German man's chair. He honestly hadn't meant to, but he also wasn't in the mood for giving apologies to a Nazi. (Not that he ever was.) So he took a smug satisfaction in not giving an apology, instead heading on over to Schadel and shoving a thing of vodquila into her hands.

"I got you some more to drink," he said. He turned his attentions to the girl she was with and gave her a friendly smile. "Hi."

Astrid frowned and leaned a little closer, having the desperate need to talk to someone who would have an idea of what they were going through without condemning them.

"I can relate to being too involved in humans." They murmured "but, uh, about the judgement thing I mentioned... it was my job. I tried to quit, oh... a long time ago, and I've been on the run ever since. Well, they're on my trail again, and-"

They looked up as they were addressed, fear rising in their muddled thoughts. The Spector- he had noticed them. Out of pure reaction, they let out a shrill scream and stood abruptly, upturning their barstool.

"N- no, stay back, get away.." they slurred and looked wildly around them.

Coming to a conclusion, they dove over the bar, sending glasses flying- whether it was an attempt to run or hide, it wasn't clear, even to them. From their position crouched under the taps, they became aware that in their scurry, their form had shifted back to normal.

"Ah- oh no.." they whispered, glancing around. No one could see them but the bartender, who was too absorbed in the film.

"Human, human..." they chanted drunkenly, eyes closed tight. Their appearance shifted again. However, they had forgotten all about their intricate disguise and the concentration it required.

Astrid peeked over the top of the bar, now a large dark-haired man.

Edward frowned when the girl grew noticeably terrified of him, placing his drink down on the table and sitting in the chair beside Schadel - who, ironically enough, had hopped to her feet the moment Astrid began freaking out. Edward looked torn between cracking a joke to alleviate the hurt a reaction like that caused, or just sitting there looking solemn.

"Well, that was rude," he finally settled on.

Schadel furrowed her brow, taking a small sip of her drink. "I don't understand. Why would she be afraid of a ghost? She just told me that-"

"Uh, Schadel?" Edward hesitantly interrupted, raising a finger and pointing in the direction that Astrid had gone in. "I don't think she's the right pronoun to be using."

Schadel turned to see the large, dark-haired man standing behind the counter in lieu of the girl. She promptly spit her drink out. "Oh. Okay then. Demons apparently can change forms. That's a little, uh, surprising, but not as much as the reaction that she - he? they? - just had."

Kratzer didn't even stand up as Astrid leapt behind the counter and changed forms, instead sighing and taking a very long drink. The effects of the alcohol were finally hitting him - his abnormally keen senses became fuzzy and his vision began to blur.

It took him a long moment to realize that his vision wasn't, in fact, blurry from alcohol. Rather, it was due to the tears that slowly began to fall down his face and run into the stubble of his roughly shaven beard.

Astrid stared hard at the two who were talking, his eyes still portraying a crazed look. So the spector seemed offended... he didn't seem to be aggressive either. It wasn't much to go on, but maybe it meant that the spector wasn't sent to locate him. He wearily climbed back over the bar.

"I'm sorry- that was uncalled for. Hopefully." He mumbled an apology. Through the fog of his mind, he registered a change in his voice. Squinting at the girl and the spector, he realized that they were staring.

"Oh. Oooh. 'orgot I was..." he stared down at himself, feeling frustrated that he had let himself get so drunk that his disguise had slipped. At least this alternate form offered a bit more protection than his true one.

His silver dress had been exchanged for a suit of the same color- one that brought bad memories. Already forgetting the reactions of the two in front of him, he went cross-eyed as he changed the suit into a crimson that matched his eyes.

"Tha's better.."

Schadel took a deep breath.

Edward, on the other hand, took a particularly large swig of his drink; she had forgotten that he wasn't used to seeing people do that, especially going from gender to the other. She wracked her brains. She couldn't even remember a time where had seen it. Liz had definitely seen it once or twice, and Claire had seen it back when it had just been them living the agency.

Schadel took a hesitant step in the demon's direction. "So are you a guy, then?" she questioned. She was a little put out about being the only woman in the bar if that was the case, but it honestly wasn't a major detractor. "I know you look like one, but changing up forms when intoxicated and distracted can end up in ways that aren't necessarily intended."

"Mm... yep. Imma male." He swayed a little and picked up the stool before sitting down. "I was in a- top secrect.. disguise."

The man frowned and held out his hand, "didn't mean ta deceive you. Mah real name is actually.." he blinked and seemed to think for a moment. "Damascus. That's what it was- is."

Schadel eagerly shook it. "Don't worry about it, Damascus! Sometimes disguises are necessary, and why limit yourself to one gender when you can change your form?"

Edward took another swig of his drink behind them.