"Pour me another one."
On the other side of the bar, the old wrinkled figure that served as a bartender complied without comment. He was used to it by now.
I'd been going to this marvelous stinky joint everyday for the past two months. The bar was coated with spill stains, beer by the smell of it. The interior was well lit, surprisingly. Those chairs had seen better days, but their red leather cushions were comfortable enough. At least enough for me.
It was quiet, but not too much. Always a pair of customers drowning their sorrows in whatever it was they liked. It was the perfect place for that. It seems I am a woman of poor taste, except for alcohol.
Always the same order. Two vodka, one kahlua, three ice cubes in a whiskey glass. Never more than three drinks, never less than two. Just enough to form a cloud between me and that fucking case.
Six months ago I was the best. Top ranking, award winning fairy godmother. Won the Happily Ever After cup three years in a row. No one could beat my pumpkin carriage, it was the best of the best. Now, I'm an inebriated mess every day after midnight.
"That's your third, Lady. No more after this. Don't forget to pay." I liked this dude. Always polite, straight to the point, never asked any questions. Didn't even raise an eyebrow when he saw me come in one night in an aggressively pink dress with ribbons in my hair. He just nodded and grabbed the bottles as I put a bunch of coins down on the counter. Didn't bother to count. "Here you go, and a happy ever after to you." Time to down that glass and go.
That might have been a mistake. Outside the bar, cold air slapped my face like an iceberg the Titanic. The road blurred, the houses patches of ochre and white neatly organized around it. Shit. Staggering drunk after all. I reached inside my purse for the endless pack of cigarettes. One of the perks of magic: you can duplicate anything. Another one is not needing a lighter.
I lit my smoke with a fingernail and staggered onward, in what I hoped was the direction of home. The fog that covered the streets reflected the one in my mind but wasn't enough to hide the lone figure waiting a few feet away. I stopped.
I had no clue who it was, but I'd a feeling they were waiting for me. "Yo," I said. "Whadja want?"
The tall, slim figure took a few steps towards where I was leaning on a street light. I was aiming for a nonchalant look, but honestly I could barely stand straight. They stopped a few paces away, just far enough that the thick fog covered their features. I squinted to no avail.
"Miss Tina?" they asked. Rhetorical question, no need to answer that. "I heard this was where I could find you. If you would follow me, someone would like a word with you concerning a certain case."
Shit. Was it the boss? Was I being fired? Drunk, in the middle of the night? They wouldn't do that, would they? Shit, they might.
No way I could run in this state. Not sure if flying was the best idea either, but might be worth a shot. I stepped away from the streetlamp onto the street. Just as I was about to spread my wings and take the risk, a giant butterfly net landed on me. These guys had a wicked sense of humor.
"Fine. I'm coming. Got any water?" Play it cool no matter what. Pretend you're at least 3 steps ahead, even when you've no idea what is going on. "I'm parched."
The figure snapped its surprisingly long fingers, and the net turned upside down, trapping me in it. "No, Miss Tina. No water. Ask again when we reach our destination."
That didn't sound good. That didn't feel good either. The motion of the giant net moving around was making me queasy. Yup, that third drink had definitely been a bad idea. I couldn't help the wicked smile that spread on my face when I reached over the side and puked all over the still unknown figure. Man, woman, in between or outside, they were covered in half-digested vodka.
My head cleared a little, just enough to realize how much trouble I was in. Probably should have aimed for the other side. "Oops, sorry" I said, "I might be a little drunk". The figure didn't even look at me.
I was still unsure what exactly I was dealing with. They made a net appear out of thin air, and now they were cleaning their clothes by… running their hands on it? I had to rub my eyes. Yes, I was seeing this right. I hadn't witnessed that kind of magic often.
Could be fairy godmother things, but it had an evil witchy feel to it. Dammit, if only my mind was clearer. If only I could magic myself sober. Sadly there were rules: no using magic on yourself unless you're in mortal danger. This didn't count as mortal danger, and I was in enough trouble with my boss already. Still it was tempting. If only to show the bastard… what? That I could do magic? They knew it, else they wouldn't have dropped a net on me.
Sitting in the net as in a hammock, I pulled on my cigarette, but it was off. I tried to relight it. Nothing. Tried again. Still not. I looked at my thumb, but it didn't look broken. Why couldn't I light up my damned smoke? Wait a second... The net. I looked up to the figure, now completely clean and smiling. "Need a light?" They smirked at my discomfited expression. "Please", I said. Politely.