Speakeasy

I Can Speak Easy

You stand quietly on the street, staring up at a large neon sign. The name "Grillby's" seems to light up the puddles that lie on the sidewalk outside. It's quiet, but you can hear people and monsters alike laughing and chatting inside.

You did hear rumours about this tavern. Supposedly it's famous for something, but you can't remember what for. Judging by the warmth and joy that's leaking out in the street it's probably the atmosphere that makes this tavern likable.

You enter the restaurant and are welcomed by joyful music and a sense of warmth. The bartender shines brightly, as he is made entirely of fire. It's not the first you've seen one of his kind. He is a little preoccupied, but still manages to welcome you with a short wave.

The tavern itself is packed. Monsters seem to be the primary clientele here, which is probably the best for the owner. Several long tables are taken up by locals, travelers, foreigners and anybody else who wishes to join. Even most of the stools at the counter are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.

You spot an empty seat at the bar and sit down.

The skeleton next to you cries out to the bartender in a deep voice. "Come on, Grillbs. All I want is some fries!"

The man of flames drops off a few drinks but is back in a flash.

He looks at the skeleton, pushing his glasses up, "all you want is my ketchup."

You look at the monster beside you. He's a bit tubby, possibly big boned, and his mouth doesn't seem to open. Instead, he holds a sly smile. His eyes are hollow expect for a small light inside. He peers over at you.

"What? You gonna judge a guy for liking ketchup?" He grumbles.

You shake your head.

He laughs, "I'm just screwin' with ya. The name's Sans."

He holds out a bony hand to shake and you take it gaily.

He quickly makes smalltalk, "You seem new. Quite the place Grillby's got here, huh?"

You nod.

"Yeah. You know, me and Grillby were friends in the underground too."

Grillby strolls up, "if you were really my friend you would have paid your tab by now." He tosses him a bottle of ketchup.

Sans shrugs as he starts to sip his condiments.

Grillby leans up against the bar and sighs. He stares at Sans for a moment and you have an opportunity to admire his dapper appearance. Although you have to wonder how his clothes don't catch on fire.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" Grillby asks you.

You shrug.

"Well we're glad to have you here." You can't see it on his face, but Grillby seems to smile.

He returns back to work and starts serving drinks again. You turn to Sans, who has already finished his bottle. He wipes the ketchup from his chin with his sleeve.

"I don't know what he puts in this stuff," Sans' smile seems to grow wider for a moment, "but, damn, is it good."

You laugh at this and Sans chuckles as well.

"I must say," he looks in the mirror mounted behind the bar, "I expected life on the surface to be... different."

You give him a puzzled look.

"I expected humans to be resentful, maybe even threaten another genocide. But... I like it here. Sure, there's a couple of assholes here and there, but it's still nice."

You smile. You didn't expect to make a friend tonight, let alone have them open up to you so quickly.

"My brother is the one I'm worried about though," his smile fades slightly and he looks at the bottle in his hands, "he's innocent, and I'm afraid of people taking advantage of that. Hell, someone could try and kill him and he'd still see a glimmer of innocence in them."

Sans grows quiet for a moment. You reach over and pat him on the back. You can tell he genuinely cares for his brother.

"Thanks..."

The area grows warm and you look up at Grillby. He stares at Sans for a moment.

"Sorry, Grillbert. Didn't mean to dim the atmosphere." Sans chuckles as he wipes his eyes.

"I told you not to call me that..."

The conversation is cut short as a lanky skeleton wanders up to the bar. He scoops Sans off his barstool and holds him out in front of him.

"I KNEW I'D FIND YOU HERE!"

"Oh, hey Paps. This is my brother." Sans rubs his eye.

"GRILLBY," he turns to the bartender, "HOW MUCH KETCHUP HAS HE HAD?"

Grillby answers blatantly, "one."

The tall, flamboyant skeleton holds sans close, much like a child.

"Don't worry, Papyrus, he hasn't had too much."

Sans lays on Papyrus' shoulder. He looks like he is dosing off already.

"I CAN NOT BELIEVE THIS, SANS! YOU ARE HERE EVERY NIGHT! ALL YOU DRINK IS KETCHUP! AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON YOUR SLEEPING! I AM SO..."

Papyrus continues to rant as he carries his brother out of the bar. As they walk away you can see sans as he falls asleep on his shoulder.

You turn around, but Grillby is gone. A martini is set in front of you. Next to it is a napkin with a note scribbled on it. "On the house" it says.

A song begins and many people start dancing. The live band just started playing. You sit back, take a sip from your drink, and prepare for what will undoubtedly be an enjoyable evening.