shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

(Oneira leans on her bar counter and grins a very fangy grin)
Welcome to the Inn-between. Coffee, tea, hard booze?

 

That's what pretty much everyone here says when they first arrive.

 

Captain! Have you been skipping your lunchbreak again?

 

-clings and snuggles. It's hard to see because of all the floating monitors making fractal hearts-

 

fRAG!
-captain retreating, captain retreating.

 

Yes please.

Great.

 

Captain!
-Focal huffs, pressing the dataslate to his chest plating. He just wanted to synchronize their schedules!-

 

I thought you were assisting Iridium now, Focal.

 

I can assist both!

 

Coming up.
(Oneira hands him a mug full of... something. Upon drinking it's revealed that it has three layers - hard booze on top, then tea, then coffee at the bottom.)

 

-takes a sip, pauses, fiercely considers. He takes his Obnoxious Sunglasses off to examine her carefully- You're a funny looking goddess.

 

Flattery will get ya nowhere. Makes two caegars, by the by.

 

Ouch. Additionally, fuck's a caegar?

 

Currency of the Alternian Empire. (Oneira twirls a coin between her fingers, but she's not quite as graceful as lovable rogue and palebait Hijack Sparrow, and fumbles it on the way back. It gets overplayed by catching and pocketing it, nothing to see here.)
Also take shanix, dollars, and most currencies that come in metal coin format.

 

The conversion rates must be crazy. -empties his many pockets on the counter looking for something suitable. The contents: a badly dented pocket watch, thirteen vampire fangs, a broken piece of shell, a vial of blood he quickly re-pockets, a 13-sided die, a broken crayon, a nail, a ten of spades, a snuff can full of rat poison labeled "faulty logic", and a 50 shecinn bill- Well, that's embarrassing. Take your pick, kid.

 

(Pity Terrence can't see Oneira's raised eyebrow behind her unruly mop of hair, but the grin is visible. You can tell what a person is like by what they have in their junk pockets. Oneira ponders the selection for a few moments, and then picks the die and one of the vampire fangs.)
Quite a collection thar.

 

Damn, I was hoping you'd make change for the fifty. -puts the rest back away. He's got a good deadpan, but the only reason he's not going pink at the edges is because he's dead-

 

Psh, on a bill I cant even test the value of by biting it?
(For reference, the bar is a mixture of deep mountain cabin and nautically themed, sturdy white wood counter, tables, and chairs, a tile stove, nets artistically hanging from the ceiling, and an assortment of skulls (wildlife, and some more humanoid ones with troll horns) on the walls.)

 

I could. Difference is in the ink. -he smiles, showing his fangs, as means of explanation without even thinking she might not make the connection-

 

i hate everyone in this bar