Whiskey for my Men (Gaston)

[Arthur]

There was nothing like a cold draught of ale after a hard days work reigning in the crazies. Or rather keeping the good citizens of Myth in line, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. There was always some garden fence argument he had to intervene on to make sure the two people didn’t kill each other. Not to mention the amount of Cats he had to get down from trees, the new arrivals, the trade links, it was just one day full of hectic. So really, after all that he felt he deserved some ale.

Heading towards his usual haunt he burst into the tavern with a huge satisfied grin on his face and swaggered up to the bar.

“One ale please,” said Arthur sitting on the bar stool, “And keep it coming until I fall off this stool. I am officially, off duty.”

[Gaston]

This was the biggest problem with owning the tavern. People expected him to serve them. All Gaston wanted to do was sit in his big comfy chair, with his feet up, warming himself by the fire, with the ale on tap. But no. His barmaid wasn't working, so people actually expected Gaston to get off his bum and get them drinks. It just wasn't even funny. Especially when it was Arthur.

"Get your own drink, PC Plod." He said with a moody glare at the other guy. "I'm 'off duty' too." He muttered into his tankard as he kicked off his muddy boots. "I spent all day hunting, it should be you getting me drinks, not the other way around."

[Arthur]

Normally Arthur would be far too stressed out by the days events to rise to the other mans infuriating comments, but he was so happy and so determined to have his ale he merely laughed. Turning to face Gaston he said, “Oh you poor man, having to waste all that energy on doing something as fun as hunting. You’re absolutely right, someone should be here to pull your drinks.”

Jumping off the stool he headed round to the back of the bar, picking up a glass on his way and heading towards the tap he said, “However, as it is, you cant seem to keep a second barmaid for more than a day. I wonder why that is?”

[Gaston]

"Is it my fault if all the girls that turn up at this place are ridiculously easily offended. Or raging feminists?" He asked with a sullen stare. "It's not my fault they run off at the first feel of a hand on their arse." He took a long drink from his tankard. "Or boob..."

"What are you so happy about anyway?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "I don't see what there is to be happy about. There's barely an attractive girl to be found round here. We should go out... recruiting or something."

[Arthur]

Arthur rolled his eyes as he pulled the tap in front of him, his glass placed carefully underneath, titled to allow for minimum foam. He had learned from their first few encounters that Gaston was most definitely not going to change, and over the years he had come to accept the man for who he was. A womanizer, sleaze, cad, fighter and the best guy in town to have a drunken brawl with. He wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but he was pretty sure he didn’t hate the man.

“Perhaps you could try, not touching them for at least a week and then maybe they’ll be more inclined to stay,” said Arthur putting his own full glass on the bar before turning to pick up another one for Gaston, “or you could employ men, take temptation out of the way.”

Pulling the tap again he said, “Why shouldn’t I be happy? I have finished my work for the week, crime hasn’t risen, the new arrivals are all safely here, and so far there’s only been one accident which needed stitched up. I call that a good reason to be happy.”

Walking over to the other man with the two pints of ale he held one out for Gaston to take, “And we cant recruit them, you know that. Do I need to go and get Merlin to give you that lecture again.”