[color=39b54a][i]How pretentious.[/i][/color] Thought Dali. [color=39b54a][i]'Ophidian Ale'. Typical humans. They have a clever bar name! 'Captain's Quarters'. Don't know what it means, but it sounds clever. Can't come up with a good beer name, though, can you? Can't just be 'Chitin and Protein-infused Fermented Root Brew' can it? On second thought, that's awful. I guess you would need a shorter way to differentiate. I should just be glad they didn't call it 'Lizard Lager'.[/i][/color]
[color=39b54a]"I'll take a Lizzzard Lager!"[/color] 
[color=39b54a][i]SON OF A BITCH, WHY WOULD I SAY THAT?[/i][/color]

	"Pint or Gallon?" [color=39b54a][i]WHAT?[/i][/color]

	[color=39b54a]"It comesss in gallonsss?"[/color] The wide-bellied, bearded barkeep, the spitting image of the stereotypical tavern owner laughed and said,

	"Only four pieces of copper, fella." Dali couldn't get the money out fast enough. The barkeep laughed again as Dali slapped the coins onto the bar.

	[color=39b54a]"You got a deal, friend!"[/color] He took a seat at the bar and looked around. Pretty empty bar. Odd, considering the fact that the man sold ale in gallons. Dali would've thought that-
[i][color=39b54a]I did not think this through.[/color][/i] 

	The bartender set what appeared to be a sawn-off half-barrel full of foamy beer onto the bar, winked, and stepped off into the back. Dali's jaw dropped, and he had to catch himself before his tongue drooped into the barrel out of excitement. [color=39b54a]"Oh, dear."[/color] With that, he leaned down, and began to slurp. 

	A quarter of the way in, he decided that there was enough of a crowd here for a song. He played terribly, but no one seemed to mind. The bartender returned with an empty barrel. 

	Halfway down, Dali set his hat and coat on the bar, believing that the warmth of the candles lighting the place must converge at the center table. He lay on it, soaking in the imaginary warmth. This would not have been a problem, if not for the man sitting at that table, now angry and covered in his own drink. He and Dali had a dispute. 

	Three quarters of the way down, Dali discovered that the dispute had ended, and that he was now outside, pouring the last quarter of his beer onto a somewhat-familiar unconscious human. He leaned down and whispered, "[color=39b54a]Lizzzzard Lager.[/color]"

	After finishing his beer, (in a way), he returned inside, and discovered the bartender's reason for the second barrel. 

	Halfway through his vomiting, Dali regretted his decisions. 

	Three quarters of the way in, he decided that his decisions weren't that bad.

	Afterwards, he threw on his coat backwards, put on his hat, collected his things, and promptly passed out on the same table that had started a fight earlier. He slept soundly, but awoke to the bartender poking him with a broom. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Dali lifted his head, blinked several times, and hissed.
[color=39b54a]"Lizzard Lager."[/color]

	"It was funnier the first time." He whacked Dali with the broom. "Now get out, you're scaring the customers." Dali looked around. The bar was full of automatons, all staring at him and clicking and squealing in their mechanical way.

	[color=39b54a]"Yeah, I should go."[/color] He stood up, and stumbled out, only to fall asleep against the outside of the building, and wake up the next morning, once more being poked with a broom. 

	"Pal, I told you to get out. Don't make me come back with my axe." Dali was startled. He looked up, into the bright, bright sun, high in the sky. [i][color=39b54a]Noon! MY SHOW! THE FISH![/color][/i] He jumped up. The bartender fell back, clearly surprised by Dali's sudden alertness. 

	[color=39b54a]"My booking! The Sssquished Fisssh!"[/color] The bartender, still sitting, appalled, on the ground, pointed slowly.

	"That way." Dali charged down the street on all fours, guitar bouncing against his rucksack, hat threatening to fly off, tail slapping fences and signposts when he turned too quickly. He could see it. The old wood architecture. The wide, flat bowl shape. Not even a hundred yards away-

	Dali tripped, rolling on old cobblestone, giving himself a nasty bruise on his elbow. A sudden [i]cling-clang[/i] made him look as something flew from his pocket. A coin! But not like any coin Dali had ever-

	"OOF!" He landed hard on his stomach, right on top of it. He stood up, momentarily distracted, to examine it. It seemed to be copper, or some similar metal. Brass, maybe. It was small, but heavier than it seemed. It held only the embossing of a wide eye. [color=39b54a][i]Wait... I've heard this story. [/i][/color] He peered closer. His eyes widened. [i][color=39b54a]THE VAULT.[/color][/i] Suddenly, he gasped.

	[color=39b54a]"THE FISssH! MY SssHOW!"[/color] He threw the coin back in his pocket and stormed down the road, where the Squished Fish waited for a story and a song. He could smell the eels- [color=39b54a][i]delicious, delicious eels[/i][/color]- already. 

	As the old, slightly damp door swung open and bathed the round room in light, Dali was hit in the face with a burst of lovely humidity. It felt great in there, warm and wet- [color=39b54a][i]Just the way I like it[/i][/color]. The previous act was still finishing. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't late.

	He slipped into a table as the door fell shut, the room once more returned to the cloudy glow of luminescent- [color=39b54a][i]Don't look at the eels. Don't look at 'em[/i][/color]- fish. The floor was wet, borderline soaked, and the wood had softened beneath Dali's claws. They sank into it as though it were butter. He glanced around. There was a tall, thin man in black, running from table to table. He looked back at the stage as the music stopped, and stood expectantly, but it seemed the previous act was just deciding what to do next. [i][color=39b54a]Fine with me.[/color][/i] But as he returned to his seat, the man in black had vanished. Dali raised his hand, but there seemed to be no waitress in sight. [i][color=39b54a]Ah well. May as well just enjoy the music.[/color][/i] He put his feet up on the table, and carved a little rune in its soft surface, the rune for his name.