[h2][b]Prince Infer[/b][/h2]
I've found my way to what appears to be an Earth-based alcohol dispensary building, apparently labelled "The T-Rex Bar". Certainly, there's a lot of presumably-alcoholic beverages in here, though I can't imagine what relation poles have with a building of this sort. Maybe "bar" is human slang for something else. Or maybe it [i]is[/i] the something else. I should figure that one out at some point.

I do not expect to be on this planet for more than a week before moving on. However, I have not come unprepared either: I've acquired enough local currency, here called "zeni", to last twice my expected stay, this including not only the money for food, but also for additional trinkets and treats if so desired. One of those may well be semi-frequent drinking sessions; the consumption of various fruit wines is a relatively recent tradition in Arcosian history, given that acquiring even the base ingredients was a challenge on Old Arcose, and alcohol itself was all but unheard of. We've acquired a knack for making and consuming high-quality alcohol since then... will human equivalents match up, I wonder?

'What'll it be, Arcosian?' the merchant asks me as I take a seat at the bar. Glad to know my race is recognised, and there's fast service here, if not the most polite; if he knew who I was, he'd be a lot more respectful. Then again, the entire point of my being here is to not be recognised, up to and including the lower portion of my mask opening up to accept sustenance (though this tends to be a standard feature of more recent models of this mask). I take a moment to look at the drinks on offer, shortly deciding to go with something called a margarita, showing an image of a drink with a similar colour to myself. Call it self-indulgence, if you will. The process of forming it apparently involves multiple other drinks being poured into a metal container, including lime juice, and a slice of the same lime being wiped round the edge of the serving glass to allow... salt to stick to it? I believe it's salt, though it might also be sugar. Partway through this process, the server asks me if I want it frozen, putting on a fairly pleased grin for some reason. I think he thinks he just made a clever joke. More importantly, though, I feel the need to ask how he intends to speed up a rather slow process, to which he explains that in this case, "frozen" means "blended with ice". I suppose that makes some sense, so I agree to it-

'Well look at the little robot face guy right here!'

The chairs in this place swivel, apparently; I find this out when I swivel round to face- aha. Exactly the sort of person I was looking for: a large, bright red demon, with his arm linked into that of a human female. By his demeanour, though, probably not the exact [i]person[/i] I'm looking for - he seems far too uneducated to be involved in something like this. And too drunk. Apparently, our constitution lets us Arcosians "drink other races under the table", or so I've overheard from some of the more worldly servants in the royal palace; I imagine this fellow isn't too far off from his breaking point. The woman's half-passed out already, it seems.

'Can I help you?' I ask politely. Or, well, as politely as I'm willing to, which perhaps isn't as politely as he wants, given that his absurd, mocking grin only gets wider, and he leans in, breathing alcoholic fumes directly into my face, fortunately filtered by my mask to preserve me from the smell. 'Ooh, a posh bastard, aren't we?' he asks. 'Arrogant, too. You know, we don't like your kind here, xeno.'

I take a quick look round him, then say 'I only see you berating me. And who is "my kind"? Posh bastards, arrogant people, or Arcosians?'

'Pff. And cocky. Ya see this, Felli?' he says to his companion. 'He's just asking for an ass-whooping!'

'Pssshyeahbish, y'r j'st too CCKKAAAAWWWckkckky, PFNAH!' she exclaims. Yes, definitely too drunk to be here.

'Okay, Ian,' the barman says, 'you've had your fun. Stop harassing the customers.'

'Oh, yeah? What if, uh, what if I have some beef with this guy?' the demon called Ian states, clearly amused by himself and his ranting. 'Maybe he's gone and pissed me off, right? Maybe I feel like he, uh, needs some uh... y'know, what's the word...'

'Re-education?' I helpfully supply.

'Yeah, that,' he says, pushing the woman on to a seat as he cracks his shoulder tendons. I hum slightly, then stand up on the chair, noting that a lot of nearby drinkers are paying attention to us now.

'Uh- sir, please sit down, he does this quite a lot, he won't try anything if you just-'

'No, no, I'm going to prove a point,' I respond, pressing a button on the side of my mask that opens up the lower portion of the mask, exposing my mouth and jaw to the open air. 'By all means, "Ian", give me your best shot. Right here,' and I point to my chin briefly before folding my arms.

'Ya see that, folks? Too cocky for his own good,' the demon yells out loud. 'Just for that, I'm gonna give him my world-famous Windup Special Punch! Get ready, punk, you're goin' through the roof!'

'Yea'b'sh, yo're gone through th'roof, HAHHAHA!'

'Ian if you break my roof-'

'Then what, barkeep? What'll you do to me?' he asks, already spinning his fist in preparation for a potentially very strong uppercut. He at least knows something about momentum, then... but his technique is sloppy, and it's already painfully obvious that, though he possesses enough ki to prevent harm from most civilian arms, he has nothing like the amount needed to be a threat to any real combatants. I subtly tilt my head up in preparation to receive the blow, and as a taunt, until finally, he gives out an almighty roar, and brings the fist rushing up into my lower jaw.

Something cracks audibly, though I barely feel the hit. A half-second later, Ian gives out a particularly high squeal of pain and pulls his hand away, the bones in his fingers shattered on impact, and the phalanges already swelling up.

'What the- how- oh God, my hand-'

'Pffwow, thassit?' the girl asks. 'Whatta looo... loossrrrr...' she finishes, finally collapsing to the floor and snoring loudly. The demon grits his teeth, and points a finger from his good hand in my direction, claiming that I'll "pay for that"; at this, the... "barkeep", I think he said? Finally says 'Alright, Ian, you had your fun and got your injuries, now get out of here.'

'Ah- if I may?' I say quickly. I want to see if... yes, I knew it. He's weak enough that my telekinesis is able to affect him directly, even though he struggles to break free quite viciously. That said, I maneuver him until he is level with the open doorway, then quite casually toss him through it, hearing rubbish bins clatter on the other side of the street a moment later. The onlookers applaud at my display; a bow and a hand flourish only increase the applause, until it eventually dies down again, and they return to their previous conversations.

'Yes, yes, well done, sir, and thank you for dealing with him... now seriously, sit down, you're scuffing the chair leather.'

...oh. I suppose that is quite uncouth of me. I quickly mutter out an apology and take my seat again, noting that the margarita is finished and sitting in front of my chair. It is... nothing like as green as I expected it to be. More of a pale yellow. I take a sip, and ahhhhhyyyyes, that is definitely a drink. There is definitely alcohol in that. Ah. Hum. Erm.

'This isn't great.'

'It's based on tequila, what'd you expect?' he asks, before crossing himself with a shake of his head. 'Eh, I shouldn't be too hard on you. Ya took that punch like a champ, you know?'

'Yes, I do. Does "Ian" threaten to begin fights often?' I ask curiously.

'Ehh... I mean, he was a semi-regular for a bit, but he only started showing up daily to be that much of a jackass a couple of weeks ago,' the bartender elaborates. 'Somethin' to do with, uh... not getting in on that trip, I think.'

Oh. Oh ho. Now I'm intrigued. 'Which trip was that?'

'Uh, to space, to try and figure out who's been capturing all those planets. Why, what's the- huh... nice armour...'

Oh, damn. The cloak's fallen open. 'Thank you,' I say, casually moving the outer layer of clothing back into a cover-all position. 'It's one of the newer models.'

'Yeah... sssay, what're you doing here on Earth, anyway? I'm sure Arcosians don't usually bother coming here, right?'

'...I'm afraid that's none of your business.'

'Tch. So cold... ah, get it? Cold? Eh?'

Oh, that was why he was smiling to himself earlier. The association with chill, after... hmm. 'Despite what Frieza's prominence may have implied, we don't all have a cultural association with the cold, unfortunately for your sense of humour.'

'Eh, you could have at least pretended it was funny.'

'I could have,' I agree, turning to look back at the doorway. I'm still preoccupied with what the barkeeper said earlier... if that demon did have some association with something relating to the buyers of those planets, then it may well be in my best interests to go after him. And if I go after him now, I might just catch up with him... I quickly pour the contents of the margarita glass into my mouth, oh wow yes ahem that is an alcoholic drink indeed, and the salt certainly does not help, then place the glass neatly on the counter and begin counting out zeni coins to the barkeeper. After about half a minute of doing this, he eventually says 'Uh, that's about three... four times as much as the drink actually cost, you know...'

'What are you talking about? There's nobody counting this money out to you, and you certainly didn't accept it in exchange for telling nobody that an Arcosian was ever here, which they of course weren't.'

He allows me to continue counting for another few seconds, then places his hand over the pile of coins; the bribe accepted, I pocket the remainder, then walk out of the bar, hearing the barkeeper exclaim 'Woah, where'd all this money come from, was I even talking to anybody just now, what...?' as I leave. Next stop: the alleyway on the opposite side of the street. It's time to go demon hunting.