With Lexlie gone, Parry was able to turn his attention back to Rikive. She was going through cupcakes like they were the last on Midgard and would probably use a drink with them. Tequila and cupcakes- he shuddered at the thought, but realized it was a combination he hadn't thought to try before. If one thing defined Parry, it was his willingness to try the most absurd foods and actions to get the most out of life here on Earth while he could.

Getting a bear hug from a demigoddess that cracked his spine was the most painful and, afterward, the most relieving experience he'd had in a good while. Damn! She'd make a good chiropractor! "It's no biggie, hun. I still feel bad for beating your father at that game, and," he glanced at the crowd of partygoers, still filtering into the stairwell, then leaned in close to Rikive's ear, "people like us need to stick together. Midgard is dangerous for an immortal." Parry pulled away and pressed a finger to his lips.

"For example," he said, pulling back and speaking much more clearly. "de Lucy, de Lacey- I can never remember- he is the, uh, 'Jarl' of this city. Everyone pays him tribute and homage, and he keeps us safe from the mortals. But we'll get to him when he comes knocking on my door. For now we'll take that Lyft- a magical ride to fun and pleasure unbound- and get back to my place where you can rest."

Parry smiled as he stood up, offering Rikive a hand.

The unspoken word in that sentence was "eventually."

=====================================================

Rikive may have been an immortal, but she still had a liver and it still processed alcohol, so she could still get drunk. Her night on Midgard in his esteemed company was going to be dedicated to fulfilling that objective before getting home for bed. Within minutes of the last guest leaving, Parry was standing outside with his enchanted Gucci diaper bag, had reached inside for his iPhone 6+, and had a fancy Chrysler 300 Lyft waiting curbside for them. Complete with the giant pink mustache on the front of the grill.

It took no less than three gay bars to find one that served actual mead. Parry wasn't too picky about whose pants he could get into, but he figured this was the best bet for Rikive. All the fashion boutiques were closed at this hour, so he couldn't get her a new outfit easily except at Wal-Mart, and Parry had a Colt .45 loaded with a single bullet, ready to use if he ever violated his sacred oath to never set foot in such a store for the purpose of buying clothing. But the crowds would be friendly and the men generally uninterested in anything more than a bit of fun.

But Chase's always had a loose atmosphere and all the humans had a friendly giggle over Rikives clothes. Here, Parry introduced her to the Chocolate Martini. Several times.

Next was Soho. It was disco night there, so a few of the guys were dressed to the nines in clothes that came relatively close to Rikive's in style. Minus the chainmail. Here, Rikive got to taste the beloved Irish Car Bomb.

Finally they got to Just 4 Us. It was a blue-collar dive bar only a block from Parry's place, no windows with a white brick exterior. Inside it was relatively quiet for 3 AM, but Parry was able to convince Tony, that adorable little barkeep, to open up the brewery downstairs and bring up a glass of actual mead for Rikive. Tony took one look at Rikive's getup and, rather than making fun of her, ran with the whole medieval idea. 

"M'lady's wish is my command. Oh, Parry? We had one of our dancers cancel with the flu. Would you be willing to go back and put on some drag for me?"

The question was a quid-pro-quo kind of thing. You put on a skirt and some makeup, do a little dance for the eight people still here, and I'll unlock the brewery.

Parry had to glance over at Rikive, study her condition after all the alcohol and bar food he'd thrown her way (sushi with a chocolate martini was also a new combination for him...). He was really, really hoping she wouldn't remember what he was about to do in the morning.