Yee olde Tavern in Fallarbor Town. Quiet the journey just to get sloshed, but that did not stop Gerald. Besides, this place felt right, it felt familiar, like he had been here before or maybe somewhere similar, somewhere with the same vibe.

Gerald was mid-sip when Madeline offered him a question. He spent the remainder of that sip pondering the question before lowering his glass slowly. The faint red of heat rising to his cheeks evident on his face.

He looks over at the Taurus. It seemed bored, complacent even. Definitely wouldn’t be much of a challenge, drunk-Gerald assumed.

“If you pay for my next drink, I’ll do it.” He spoke as the alcohol gave him confidence. He was certain he could balance himself well enough to stay atop it.

LOCATION: "Yee Olde Tavern" - Fallarbor Town

[attr="class","samjermain"]Madd’s smile just crept wider and wider. A hand rose to adjust the collar of her t-shirt, the v-neck drifting off center. Something about drinking made her conscious of her clothes. Come on, Ger. I know you want to. The redhead smirked as he took the bait. She figured it’d just be a funny diversion. An homage to a practice almost as old as the bar itself—one that’d ended before smartphones (judging by the gallery).

In her drunken mind, it’d even earn them some chuckles and approving claps. “Sure.” Spinning on the stool—one revolution too many—Madeline turned to watch her bud as he climbed off the stool. “Stay on—” Orange eyes narrowed as she tried to read the funky font on the sign. “--Big Burt for eight seconds and the whole night’s my treat.” It wasn’t like it’d be too expensive.

They weren’t top-shelf kind of people. Shit, she wasn’t even sure what brand her beer was. Just that it was cold and a little too foamy.

Ears perking forward, the Obstagoon turned toward the dozing bull. His tongue lolled out as he gave a mischievous grin. What’s in it for me if he doesn’t? Those red eyes asked his BFF. The Rocket grunt just smiled languidly, her back drooping languidly over the mirrored countertop.

In its pen, the Tauros turned its face toward Gerry. A few moist strands of hay dropped from its mouth as its grey-flecked muzzle lifted from the ground. He wasn’t deaf, and he wasn’t dead yet. There would be no reaction as the grunt crawled into the faux pen—the thing obviously more decorative than anything. It wouldn’t hold back a grumpy Pawmi. "Taurrrrrooooos..." It lowed.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

Gerald gave a confident thumbs up and a cocky smile as he accepted those terms. And so he made his way over to ‘Big Burt.’ Gerald was certain that he could manage eight seconds. Eight seconds weren’t that long after all.

Gerald crawled into the pen, faux or not. He looked at the Tauros. “Rise and shiny friend-o.” The alcohol in Gerald spoke. Though he was drunk the steps he took were taken with a certain amount of natural caution. The kind of natural caution born of the constant presence of something or someone larger and aggressive.

“I am going to ride you, so you better give me your best.” Gerald spoke loudly as he climbed into the Tauros. So far so good. This isn’t so bad.

Famous last thoughts.

LOCATION: "Yee Olde Tavern" - Fallarbor Town