apocalypsehowcomm | [OPEN LOG] Turkey Testicle Festival Open Mingle!

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[OPEN LOG] Turkey Testicle Festival Open Mingle!

Who: Everyone!
When: Post-Thanksgiving Weekend
Where: Bottoms Up Bar and Tavern
Summary: The annual Turkey Testicle Festival returns to a local Gloucester bar with special events including a turkey testicle eating competition, live music, karaoke … and some unexpected spooks and slaughter themed hallucinations
Warnings: Please put appropriate content warnings in your top levels! General warnings include:
For the festival: Alcohol
For the opt-in aftermath: Slaughterhouses, blood, implied animal cruelty, industrialized slaughter, tactile/auditory/visual hallucinations

Welcome to the Annual Turkey Testicle Festival!

It’s that beloved time of the year, folks! All across the United States, several towns host a much lauded festival called the Turkey Testicle Festival and lucky you, Gloucester just so happens to be one of those special towns that pay tribute to the full glory of the humble turkey. Fliers for the event hosted by the Bottoms Up Bar and Tavern can be seen all around town advertising the momentous occasion. See you there!

Dining & Drinking

Bottoms Up serves up classic American bar foods and offers a wide selection of local beers as well as hard liquors for anyone who wants to get their drink on. Just be sure to provide some kind of ID. Or get someone else to get you a drink -- it’s a party, the bartenders won’t ask so long as you don’t get them in direct trouble. But let’s be real, why are you here eating nachos and chicken wings when you could be eating….

The Balls

Ah yes, the crown jewels of the event, who could forget? Breaded and deep fried to golden brown, crispy perfection these balls are just bursting with flavor! Served with your choice of hot sauce for some spice or creamy white sauce, these delectables are said to taste just like chicken nuggets.

Dare to find out.

Or better yet, join the turkey testicle eating contest! Win glorious prizes such as a twenty dollar gift card to Walmart or a CD signed by Sense of Evan. ~~Please, they have so many CDs nobody seems to want…~~

Live Music

Looks like a local band is playing for part of the festival. For better or for worse, “Sense of Evan” are a cover and playing all the best meme hits from the likes of Evanescence, Avril Lavigne, Nickelback amongst others. Come jam out to the music, make merry with other festival attendees. Or maybe you’ll just be hanging out by the wall wondering how could this happen to me…..

Karaoke

But just because the live band’s done playing, doesn’t mean the music stops. Nope. Bottoms Up staff have dredged up a karaoke machine! Now it’s your turn to show off your singing chops and wow the crowd! Or conversely break a few eardrums. It’s all in good fun, right?

The Aftermath

…Or maybe it wasn’t all just in good fun after all?

For those who attended the festival , they may wake up the next day with some unwanted side effects. It might start out subtle — the odd sound of a conveyor belt moving along, the occasional electric shock by your neck. Weird bodily and auditory sensations that seem to flit in and out from an entirely different place. But as the day progresses, these strange occurrences seem to become stronger, clearer until the hallucinations really kick in.

Visions of yourself trapped in a steel pen, along with so many others all waiting to be pushed onto a conveyor belt. Perhaps you’re sharing the hallucination with others you recognize, perhaps you’re meant to work together to escape the seemingly endless line of slaughter and industrialized death. One way or another, these hallucinations will last a full day before they gradually taper off in intensity.

Notes:

• The after effects are purely opt-in. You do not have to play with any Slaughter themed elements if your character attends the festival.
• For the slaughterhouse hallucinations, feel free to go ham with the set up. Be as horrible to your characters as you like, please just warn with the appropriate content warnings.
• As per the mod’s notes, characters who choose to investigate Bottom’s Up following this incident, they'll find that the grocery store had a mix-up in their meat order and got something that came off of one of Sable's shipments. The grocery store's usual seller came up short and just bought up what they could find on short notice to cover the holiday rush.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he can sense those mullet brain cells firing off, connecting the crumb trail of hints. he can see keith working though it as he stares at that obscenely white, coated turkey ball. meatball; not quite but warmer, definitely getting warmer. will he get it? will he finally realize the genius of shiro’s very clever, very humorous joke?

keith isn’t laughing but shiro is too delighted – and distracted – that keith finally understands the innuendo, that he doesn’t seem too bothered. in fact, he grins wide and leans back. there’s a cockiness to that recline, especially with how his face tips upward and his hands lace behind his head, elbows pointed wide. ]

Mmhm.

[ ah, his glory days. some time before his golden boy status but he was well on his way, charming the brass and charming boys in vastly different ways. ]

Used to be an expert. [ the grin lasts for three, two, one, and then his expression sours into a pout. ]

Not anymore. [ from shitty humor to basking in his prowess to lamenting his nonexistent sex life: this is why, come tomorrow, he is going to swear off alcohol. ]

[ there are a lot of sensible ways keith could process this particular emotional rollercoaster. the edge of tipsiness that's got a hold of his brain doesn't allow for any of those sensible ways. instead, he listens, watches shiro's expression fall and turns inwards.

used to be. frankly, keith hasn't given much thought to what shiro was like before adam. he doesn't know what exactly shiro was like when he was keith's age, but increasingly the contrast makes keith feel like slamming his fists down onto the table.

it's no secret that his life has been messed up for a while, helped no less by being involuntarily plunnged into a space war. it's normal for keith, sure, but these glimpses he gets of what his life could have been if he'd never given up on himself and everyone around him, never gotten involved in blowing up alien warcrafts....

it's pointless to create stupid hypotheticals like that. keith knows that much all too well, but for a second that alternate reality where he, too, could have had a nice life, a nice boy to be ball experts with and wasn't dealing with existential threats in multiple realities really gets to him. ]

Yeah? Well you didn't almost die a goddamn virgin.

[ it's almost comedically huffy, especially with the way keith's started glaring at his turkey ball. ]

And at least turkey balls weren't your first balls.

[ and with that said? he finally pops the turkey ball in his mouth and chomps angrily. ]

[ oh. so is that what they’re doing? shiro didn’t realize they were one-upping each other with who has the more pathetic sex life. this isn’t the right environment for this kind of heart to heart. with a clearer mind, shiro would be able to empathize with how keith’s youth is being robbed – has been robbed. shiro lacks a lot of the in depth details of keith’s adolescence and early teens, but coming from a single-parent home to a no-parent home is beyond shiro’s comprehension. difficult is putting it too lightly; shiro will never fully understand how trying those years had to be. and everything that’s come after? from the fallout of kerberos to voltron to here… – life has been equal parts unkind and unfair to keith.

just as it has been to shiro. so keith’s snotty attitude? shiro bristles, slightly, in the face of it, immediately thinking of how many times he’s almost died. sure, he wouldn’t have died a virgin, but he has a slew of other things that could be said. almost died being known as a failure to all of earth. almost died as a circus monkey to a roaring crowd. almost died as a false, maybe paladin. see, he can do it too.

don’t get mad. the self-soothing lacks its usual stability and he barely recognizes it for what it is. he’s frustrated, but perhaps not for this sick competition keith’s started. he’s more frustrated at keith being frustrated, because to shiro, it seems unwarranted. this is fixable. this is something easily dealt with. so: ]

Why are you so upset? [ it’s genuine in curiosity, but the careful tact is missing. it comes out without measure, sounding huffy and exasperated. ] It’s not like that had to be your first.

[ face tipped toward keith, shiro watches him chomp through one hard chew and then sits properly again. actually, no, he doesn’t. he sits up and hardly pauses before hunching his weight forward, resting his forearms on the table to lean into them. ]

You always do this [ wrinkles his nose, looking at his hands. ] You count yourself out before you give yourself a chance. You're better than that.

[ always isn’t a fair assessment. but his words are also slightly slurred, so wide, sweeping generalizations are the best he can manage right now. ]

You could have any guy in here if you put the tiniest of effort into it. [ if meaningless hook-ups is something keith wants. he frowns deeper at that. what happened to keith’s goal of putting himself out there? did one bad crush have keith now thinking he’ll be stuck alone forever? idiot. ]

[ why are you so upset? great. keith doesn't like having his feelings brushed aside like that on a good day, but it's especially intolerable coming from shiro. you always do this. that's another nerve skewered. if you put in the tiniest bit of effort into it.

if keith were processing anything rationally, this would have all been irritating yes, but nothing outside of his tolerance level. in the moment however, it comes across a whole lot like the only person allowed to feel sorry for themselves is shiro and keith erupts out his seat, very nearly knocking it backwards. ]

And what about you, huh? What's keeping you from going back to your old ways if you miss 'em so much? Nobody cares about a bit of scarring, you know. Nobody whose opinion matters anyway.

[ he takes an uneven step away from the table, forcing himself to take a deep breath. ]

I'm going home.

[ it’s far too easy to feed off of that anger. keith’s blood pressure is obviously skyrocketing and shiro’s is escalating too, frown pinching tight and shoulders going rigid, taunt, solid…

only for the wind to be sucked right out of his sails with three simple words. oh. what? he’s leaving? now? why? wait. and from there, everything unravels. his frustration isn’t wiped clean but it’s sofer, more manageable, and inevitably, becomes saturated with regret. not enough for him to say sorry, however; not when he’s still emotionally keeled over from that suckerpunch to his gut about how the wreck of his body is so easily overlooked. it’s not. it’s fucking not, and suggesting it, especially in a fit to win an argument, is such a mockery that it’s borderline unforgivable.

so they’re even, he supposes. neither of them need to say sorry for this blunder of a conversation. and if keith wants to be far away from shiro, then… ]

Okay.

[ he swallows thickly and stubbornly refuses to crumble. it feels a lot like defeat though. that strong line of his shoulders give and they do hunch, ever so slightly, as he makes a point of keeping his gaze on the table. they’re supposed to stick together. they’re supposed to always have each other’s backs. distantly, shiro realizes that he shouldn’t allow keith to head back to headquarters all by himself, especially impaired.

– but shiro is also impaired and doesn’t push. in fact, he doesn’t even sound sure of where he’s supposed to be. ]

I’ll… stay here? [ is that what keith wants? is that what shiro wants? he doesn’t know anymore. ]

[ this is easily one of the most miserable thanksgivings keith has spent in his life. it's a fact that keith registers, digests and instantly feels sick over, but for the life of him he has to get out of this fucking bar because even the live music feels like it's mocking him.

i tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn't even matter?

great. just fucking great.

he turns away from shiro without another word, eyes fixed on the exit. though dizzy on his feet, keith manages not to bump into anyone on the way out nor does he ever stop to look over his shoulder to check if shiro is following. whatever autopsy is to be done of the conversation and assign blame to who was over the line, keith isn't about to do it while his head is pounding.

of course, he can more or less hear everyone blaming him anyway because everything is always somehow his fault whenever arguments are fucking concerned, but that only makes him angrier. finally, just as he reaches the door he bumps into a guy who'd been coming inside, hard enough to elicit a growled watch it and for a mad second keith considers just outright snarling in response.

mercifully, he doesn;t.

one scowl and the altercation that could have been glosses on over and keith leans heavily against the front of the building to take a couple of deep breaths. ]

Edited 2021-12-15 03:54 (UTC)

[ he lasts two minutes. time is a nebulous concept at present and to shiro, despite the same song still playing, it feels far longer than that. it feels like he’s wasted away precious tens of minutes, staring at his soggy, abandoned drink making a condensation ring on the table. the regret is coming on stronger now. without keith standing within reach, heck, even standing within eyesight, all of that annoyance and exasperation has lost its fixated point, crushed under the weighty knowledge that he let keith slink out of here feeling… what? discarded? unwanted? unworthy?

strange, considering this whole disagreement stemmed from shiro trying to verbalize how keith is a bit of a gem. smart, brave, funny, adventurous, strong, loyal, good-looking to boot… of course keith could snatch up any guy if he let down his walls a smidge. he’s a precious find; shiro knows that well.

and yet he’s let keith go, to walk the ten or so city blocks alone, despite this reality being riddled with dangerous occurrences. fuck, how many times have shiro and keith been out together, and just barely escaped disaster? granted, most have happened in dogtown but does he want to take that chance and gamble with keith’s well-being?

it’s taken awhile for that thought to become clear in his brain but inevitably, it settles and he thinks, no, he can’t sit here and not watch keith’s back. furthermore? it isn’t just about safety either. as he gets to his feet and rushes in the wake of keith’s exit, weaving on steps that cannot for the life of him follow a straight-shot to the door, shiro also, already, somehow misses keith. a touch affectionate and a touch irrational from drink, it’s more paramount for him to find his friend than it is to stay mad for… reasons that become murkier by the second.

the blast of cold air greets him once he finds himself outside. he feels a little more alert and yet, he still comes out rushed and a pinch agitated when he doesn’t immediately see keith. he turns to start off in the direction of headquarters, wondering how many blocks ahead keith is, when he sees him there, leaning against the building. surprise has him stopping short. relief has him visibly relaxing. and eagerness to keep keith this time has him blurting out: ]

I wanna go with you.

[ if nothing else, the new england chill has a bit of a sobering effect. or maybe that's more attributable to having a solid wall and distance away from the live band drumming the headache deeper in his head. or maybe all of that's pure bullshit because keith does, in fact, lose track of time as he stands outside the bar, breathing in deep lungfuls of cold air.

he isn't soothed by any means. he feels out of place and out of odds with himself and the feeling only seems to intensify as the denizens of gloucester pass by, some with indifference others with vague disapproval. though he'd just said he was going home, this place is pretty far from it. no desert, no warm sunshine, just some crappy town in massachusetts with even crappier happenstances.

and of course, the one person here who shares that real home with him is the same person who's pissed off at him now. the part of him that's still feeling vindictive and bruised over the insinuation that he's not trying hard enough thinks fuck him. the rest just feels even more miserable.

suffice to say, he doesn't expect shiro to come bursting out of the bar. despite being pissed, there's still some part of him that's a little relieved? happy? pathetic. keith looks over, struck just a little bit stupid until a moment later, he redirects his gaze to the ground. ]

I can get back just fine on my own.

[ cuz that's what this is about right? coddling? probably. ]

[ shiro’s a bit of a fool. he was hoping keith would be more apt to accepting him after their – extremely long – separation, but apparently not. still sore, still disgruntled, still very much with the attitude of leave him the fuck alone. that almost seems to have a more sobering effect than the chill in the air. all at once, shiro sees his options laid out before him and out of the handful, there’s really only one ace in the hole.

and he’s discombobulated enough to exploit it. ]

Maybe I can’t.

[ – make it back fine. keith was worried about shiro earlier, wasn’t he? keith is always worried about shiro. it’s a fact that usually has shiro inwardly sighing, clenching his jaw and assuring – very similarly to keith – that he’s fine and can handle himself. but right here, right now, with shiro swaying just barely on legs that aren’t nearly as solid as they ought to be, it’s comforting to know that keith cares. he has to. despite how upset he is, the one constant that shiro can always depend on is that keith will come to his rescue.

… right? ]

[ ..... ah.

forget having his arms and legs pinned down while wrestling, this moment right here is the most backed into a corner keith's ever felt by shiro. his head snaps up, mouth hanging ope with a rebuttal that just doesn't come.

the fact of the matter is that keith can count on one hand the number of times shiro's fessed up to needing help or feeling vulnerable since they've been here and no matter how annoyed he is, there's just no amount of annoyance in the world that could really override the basic desire to make sure his best friend is okay.

he closes his mouth, gaze never quite catching's shiro's but still looking in his direction to see how unsteady he is on his feet. ]

You wanted to do that competition, right? [ he sighs internally. does he really want to go back inside the goddamn bar? no, not really, but the point of him leaving had also been in part not to ruin the rest of shiro's evening at the festival. ] I'll wait here for you to be done. Then I'll carry you back.

[ it takes conscious effort not to smile in victory, which means shiro is only marginally successful. at least it’s nothing too damning; just an upkick of his lips and a visible brightening of his mood. excellent. mission accomplished.

sort of?

as quickly as it’s come, the smile dims and shiro takes a long, couple of moments to first stare at keith, then glance to the bar entrance, and once more, return his attention to keith, who is, of course, unbudging from his wall lean. it’s cold out here. it’s dark out here too. he knows keith can likely kick the ass of any rowdy drunk exiting the bar but shiro is still thrumming high on a desire to stay close to his best friend until this evening is over. ]

I can’t win without you there. [ a guilt trip isn’t going to cut it. he realizes this with some clarity and quickly tacks on a cheap shot: ] Please? [ a beat, the frown clearing to make way for a hopeful smile. ]

[ what keith wants to do is sigh and rake fingers through his hair. does he know how to feel about any of this? no. but that isn't really anything new. shiro acting like they didnt just have a conversation that turned sour is clearly meant as some kind of ceasefire.

is keith ready to reciprocate? yes and no. yes, as far as shiro's safety and overall well being are concerned. but that's not a free pass on dropping his indignation over being told in no uncertain terms that he doesn't work hard enough.... to what? ditch his virginity?

the spat had been ludicrous from start to finish, but he's never dealt well with shiro's disappointment and he can't help hating the stupid contradiction he keeps living in being both introverted and guarded while also feeling lonely and disconnected.

but that's his own fucking fault for not trying hard enough, huh? ]

Fine.

[ keith irritably peels himself off the wall and starts heading back inside the bar. fine. feeling deifant, he pushes the door open with more force than necesary. ]

You compete. I'll talk to guys at the bar.

[ about what? don't even ask keith, he doesn't know. ]

[ this isn’t going well. blearily, shiro blinks with off-timed eyes, staring as keith barges through the door. he’s amending that earlier assessment: this is going disastrously. especially, when a moment later, as shiro kicks himself into gear to follow after keith before that door swings shut, keith tacks on a vow to go talk to other men. shock hits first, enough to have him almost stumbling over his own uncoordinated steps, shoulder bumping with the door as he slips back inside the establishment. irritation comes next, both at the damn door and at keith. why? keith is supposed to watch shiro. to cheer him on and care whether he does well or not. this keith, apparently, doesn’t give a shit about the competition or in some ways, shiro himself.

he bites on the inside of his cheeks, grinding the soft tissue through the next three steps and then abruptly relaxes his jaw, exhaling heavily through his nose. ]

Okay.

[ keith is ahead of him by some paces, so whether he hears him or not, shiro doesn’t even know. they’re almost at the crossroads though, where keith should veer left and shiro should continue straight, toward the large table being set up on the previously occupied stage. he has roughly four seconds to decide. should he play his part of the supportive best friend, as he did before, by encouraging keith to score with a guy here? or should he give into that festering irritation that’s pooling in his stomach, making it roil and clench uncomfortably until he’s balling his fists at his sides? ]

Good luck. [ seems he’s intent on sticking to his guns. it lacks any genuine quality however, and unfortunately, comes out more dismissive than anything. he continues right on though, not bothering to look at keith as he moves forward toward the competition table.

everything from there becomes a blur fairly quickly.

checking in is easy. he’s directed to a chair and soon has a large mug of beer set down in front of him. every competitor does. to help wash down the balls is the teasing explanation. some of the other competitors take to sampling as the rest of the table is set up. shiro makes the mistake of searching keith out at the bar, foolishly hoping that keith will be watching. he’s not. in fact, he seems to be scoping out his surroundings. or better said, the men. shiro starts drinking from his mug as well.

next, shiro ends up with a bib and a basket of balls: ten balls in each basket, once he finishes, another filled basket will replace the first. rules are explained and then the announcer moves outward, drawing the attention of the crowd. shiro’s halfway through his mug by the time the crowd is cheering. again, he makes the mistake of looking for keith and – squints. is he talking to someone? shiro glances away before fully confirming it and downs the rest of his drink. at least he isn’t the only poor sap who needs a refill before the competition has even started.

but then it starts.

honestly, he spends more time drinking than he should. he does well enough, but his heart isn’t in it. why should he care about making himself sick on fried food to a bunch of strangers? it was meant to be a dumb experience had with his best friend, but said best friend is too busy trying to get laid to watch shiro make a fool of himself. not that shiro can be mad, seeing as he’s the one to tell him to do it.

when the buzzer sounds, shiro winds up just barely beating out the man to his right and nabbing second. no prize for mister second place though. cheers sound, congratulations are passed around and shiro unsteadily gets up from the table only after being gently prodded by staff, telling him they need to clean up so the band can come back on. forgetting that he’s still wearing his plastic bib, he gets down from the stage without incident and meanders off, only to plop down at the first open table that he comes across. baskets of fried testicles and mugs of beer all sloshing around in his stomach… – he leans back in his chair and runs his hands over his face, feeling a little sick. hopefully he doesn’t need to visit the bathroom and hurl afterall. ]

[ it's impossible to block out the competition in its entirety with the announcer providing commentary and terrible ball puns. with most of the bar paying attention to the chowdown with wagers being put down on victors, keith has even less of an opt out of caring. the guy he sits next to at the bar is an overly friendly sort, curious to know why someone obviously not from gloucester decided to show up to the festival and then seems to find it funny when keith has absolutely no cover story for his goddamn existence in this reality.

if he'd forgotten how much he hates small talk, this brief little interaction is a potent reminder. head swimming slightly, he cuts off the conversation with a slightly overaggressive do you want to hook up? like a man who is determined not to be waylaiid from his mission by stupid chatter. predictably, this does not go well, and keith earns himself an incredulous laugh and a scoot away from the "drunk out of towner."

feeling increasingly exhausted, keith slumps at the bar, just waiting for the thing to be over. of course he's curious to know if shiro's doing okay, but when he chances a look at his best friend chugging down beer, not even looking like he's enjoying himself, the sight only makes keith feel even worse about everything.

shiro doesn't win. as unsurprising as that is, given the glimpse of his face that keith got was, it just solidifies the depressing, irrational feeling that somehow this whole thing is his fault. he doesn't want to get up and face shiro right now, but seeing shiro stumble off after the competition, keith drags himself up one limb at a time to approach the table.

he stands there at first, scrambling for something to say that isn't pointing out the fucking obvious like second place, huh? and in the end doesn't even manage that. ]

You're uh... [ gesturing to his own neck, he makes a quick motion. ] Bib.

[ massaging at his glabella with the splay of his fingers covering his eyes, shiro doesn’t notice keith until he’s right there in all his awkward presence. one blink of him staring through the gaps of his fingers and then he pulls his hands away, wondering if he’s hallucinating. sad really, for him to find that the more probable explanation here, rather than his best friend willingly seeking him out. for one wild moment, he’s tempted to kick out his foot and nudge keith with the toe of his boot, just to check. thankfully, keith breaks the silence with a handful of words and a gesture, which is, of course, not a confirmation that shiro is not also conjuring this up but… it derails the direction of shiro’s focus and reflex has him answering. ]

Oh.

[ flatly, it comes out once he dips his chin and stares down at his bib himself. there are some ranch globs on it, as well as one, faded line of hot sauce. he gave up on the dips fairly quickly, but not without first inflicting some embarrassing damage, huh? ]

Thanks. [ he grimaces, eyes downcast as he reaches at his nape, fingers finding the knot. it doesn’t want to come undone. he’ll have to thank his earlier agitation for that; he’d tied the plastic far too tight to be undone with ease. so shiro will keep on trying; fumbling and fumbling around the knot with no progress being made.

he will glance up after a few beats though. ]

Wanna go now? [ a beat, that concentrated frown deepening, seemingly missing the concept that he can simply tear the plastic, rather than unknotting it. ] Or are you… [ he doesn’t finish. however, his gaze skirts to the side and beyond keith, looking to the bar. did he find anyone? ]

[ shiro vs the bib. keith watches the awkward struggle for a long moment, hands curling into fists at his sides to just keep them there instead of reaching across to just yank the plastic off.

okay, so maybe he's not done feeling agitated at everything and nothing simultaneously. but above all else, he just doesn't actually want to feel feelings anymore. he flops down on the chair opposite from shiro and manages a mumbled: ]

I don't wanna talk about it. I want another drink.

[ well. looks like shiro will have something to keep him busy for the foreseeable future. he’ll defeat this bib at some point, won’t he? tries pinching the knot between his fingernails: ah, shit, nope. he looks back to keith as he flops down, frown still etched.

so, to recap. keith doesn't want to leave. but he is done at the bar. and yet, he also isn't done with the bar because he wants a drink. only, he's now over here.

he pauses in his fumbling, confused. ]

You were just at the bar.

[ translation: if he wants a drink, why didn’t he order one? ]

[ as the epic battle between shiro and the bib continues, keith sinks lower down into his chair. ]

I can't be near the bar right now.

[ for mysterious reasons that he's already stated he doesn't want to talk about. ]

[ but shiro is so curious! self-preservation kicks in, miraculously, and he doesn’t ask for an explanation. he merely glances back to the bar, squints as though that will help him in dissecting the mystery of keith’s bar revulsion.

nothing. nothing reveals itself. for whatever reason though, it reboots shiro’s brain and he finally starts tugging at the thin plastic of his bib, rather than trying to unknot it. ]

I can. [ – be near the bar. he thinks? he hasn’t had any bad experiences with the bar.

… other than the flying kangaroo spiked drink. he wonders whatever happened to that drink. ] I’ll get you something.

[ keith doesn't respond to that right away. you can practically see him doing the sobriety math in his head as he tries to figure out if that's even a good idea. not that the walk home is particularly far or dangerous, but gloucester is unpredictable at the best of times and seeing as shiro's already had an extra couple of beers, it feels a little incumbent on keith to just nurse himself back to a clear head faster.

that'd be the sensible thing to do, presumably.

but damn does he want that easy eject button out of his own head. ]

NO, it's -- [ he sighs, straightening up with an audible sigh. ] ... It's fine. Let's just get back before anything else happens.

[ he’s still tugging on his bib by the way. he finally realizes that short tugs aren’t making progress. he tugs now in one constant pull, ends of plastic stretching and stretching until – snap, the plastic breaks and he’s free. he grins wide in his success, looking altogether pleased with himself, only for him to refocus on keith as his dismissal registers.

– what else would happen? again, he glances briefly to the bar. ]

… Okay. If you’re sure. [ shiro did want to leave not all that long ago, but he sounds unsure now that he knows keith wants something that is being denied to him. but, agreeing with keith is also something that comes easier, so shiro places the bib on the table and without much pause, pushes himself to his feet.

it’s a bit of a rush. he’s lightheaded in a moment, brow wrinkling and eyes closing as his balance gives to one side, thigh bumping with the table. he’s fine though, really; he’ll say as much as he reopens his eyes and brushes the brief unsteadiness aside. ]

You lead?

[ keith bites the inside of his lip, not wanting to say anything as shiro finally wins his battle against the bib or when his thigh collides with the table. concern might be warranted, but is it wanted? probably not. he offers a nod in response -- yes, he'll lead, but as he gets to his feet he gently grabs shiro's wrist to tug him through the crowd. ]

Just focus on walking, ok?

[ he'll handle the navigating part. it goes well for the most part until they pass by the bar and the guy from before, now sitting with his friends, spots keith, points and then the whole group laughs. face burning hot, keith's grip tightens around shiro's wrist. teeth grit, he stars walking a little faster to the door. ]

[ his feet feel clunky. each stride lacks its usual ease and tempo, but keith is leading with a tug at his wrist, meaning, all shiro has to do is follow without any drastic deviation. so he focuses on that, just as keith told him to. it works for a good while. through the tables and breezing by the bar, the main entrance is in sight. shiro isn’t looking that way though. he’s been tossing curious glances at the bar since keith dropped a cryptic contingency and so, it’s only natural to look again now that they’re much closer.

there’s a point. then a series of glances. finally, an accumulation of laughter.

– wait.

shiro’s body keeps moving however. the fingers at his wrist are tighter now and shiro follows the silent encouragement to keep walking for two, three more steps before the wait locks into a command, similarly locking shiro’s legs. he abruptly comes to a stop, unbudging even as keith’s pull remains. he narrows his gaze at the group there at the bar, part curious, part – annoyed? he’s too slow-minded to fully grasp what’s going on but he has the inkling that he should dislike it. ]

What’s their deal?

[ it should be noted here that keith does not actually want to stop here, but when there's suddenly a 200lb plus mass that suddenly locks into place, forward just isn't a direction of accomodated motion. keith pulls on shiro's arm, then flails mid-step as he looks over his shoulder.

face cherry red, keith tells the most obvious lie in the lannd: ]

Nothing!

[ and thenn quick turns his face forward again before he accidentally locks eyes with the dude at the bar. the laughter's died down a little, but the snickering chatter has not. for the record, the guy that did the pointing is a blond of average build. if the band getting set up and doing their mic checks isn't too distracting, shiro might just be able to hear a guess the desperado found someone after all! ]

C'mon Shiro, let's just go.

[ shiro’s bullshit sensor is pinging. truly amazing – the same man who struggled to reason his way away from unknotting a bib to the much more effective tearing of said bib, is now perceptive enough to put two and two together. perhaps it can be explained through shiro’s innate care for all things involving keith. maybe it’s simply his drunken curiosity that has him delaying. or maybe keith is such a bad liar that even a sloshed shiro can’t help but notice that something is definitely off here.

either way, shiro regards keith with that squinty, suspicious gaze of his for a beat and then, ignoring all else, looks to that amused bunch of men. what did he say? desperado? is that – wait. shiro looks at keith’s hand at his arm, brain chugging through found someone and then all the little details that come falling into place. the point, the bar, the laughter – he’s talking about keith, isn’t he? no, not talking. he’s making fun of keith.

the checks and balances are out of commission: shiro has none right now. so patience, understanding, an inclination to deescalate a situation…? those shining qualities don’t keep shiro’s expression from darkening. ]

Who is that clown? [ clown? nice insult, shiro. he huffs, still unmoved by keith’s plea to get out of here, especially when half a breath later, another piece of the puzzle abruptly snaps into place. he jerks his head to look at keith. hold on; the clown is sitting at the bar. the bar that keith refused to go back to. ]

Is he why you can’t go near the bar?

Welcome to the Annual Turkey Testicle Festival!

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