"Ha ha! Yeah great, cool. Hey I'm done here so bye." 

It was Oscar's day off, and while he hadn't planned on spending it at his bar on the Rocket Sub, he ended up being called over by some acquaintances while he was passing through. Next thing he knew he was drinking and chatting, and now four hours had passed and he was pretty drunk. The conversation had become rather mundane, and so Oscar excused himself and slunk away from the table. 

It was too late to accomplish what he had planned for the night, so he decided to throw his fucks to the wind and get smashed. He hobbled over to the bar and plopped down next to a rather blurry figure. Oscar raised his hand, "Hey Armando, get me uhhh--you know the thing. With the little umbrella." Oscar looked to the blurry figure and after his eyes adjusted he realized it was none other than Abner! He's had some fine drinking experiences with Abner recently, so he was very glad that he appeared, "Hey! Abby--no Abner sorry I'm a lil drunk. Just a lil bit, how are ya doin' buddy! Lemmie buy you a drink! Amando! Whatever he ordered is on me!"

This could only go well.

Abner Armstrong

"Whoop!"

Oscar teetered on his stool from the shoulder shove but luckily maintained his balance. "Fuck these are quality stools." The drinks arrived and Oscar lifted his glass toward Abner, "To uh, I don't fucking know just drink it." Oscar downed his drink and slammed his glass on the table. He let out a deep sigh, the alcohol burning his throat a bit. Oscar clapped his hands together as he recovered, "Shots, need shots give us each a shot."

--One Hour Later--

We return after several drinks and come upon Oscar and Abner during a bizarre conversation. "Sportssss suck. Like who the fuck even watches sports anymore? They're boring, they're dumb, I don't like sports. Anyway that's what I told him and  he shat on my lawn the next day, swear to poke-god. Fuck I love this song!"

Oscar intended to jump up to dance but he ended up falling over instead. He grabbed Abner to balance himself, but thanks to Oscar's dead weight he was probably gonna end up bringing poor Abner down with him. A ridiculous display that surely would have been ridiculed, if not for the fact that the rest of the bar was just as intoxicated at this point.

Abner Armstrong

This was quite the sight surely, and if anyone was paying attention Oscar might had felt embarrassed. Well he'd also have to be sober, he cackled at Abner's inquiry. "I'm sure if you asked enough people in Alola you'd figure it out." He hooked his leg into Abner's, shifting his weight and flipping the poor man onto his back. Oscar, now sitting on him, folded his arms. It was probably impossible to do that while Abner was sober, so Oscar felt pretty smug. 

Suddenly there was a call from nearby, "Oh shit there's a fight tonight!?" It would seem that a patron had mistaken Oscar's playful wrestling move for an attack. Oscar sneered, "Oh ya hear that Abner, there'sss a fight tonight." Oscar shakily got to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "What do I get if I win huh?"

It was mostly in jest, Oscar had no intention of throwing punches but playing along felt like a good idea to his drunken brain. I mean what could go wrong?

Abner Armstrong

The impact of the punch rocked Oscar to his core, causing him to stumble back. If no one was paying attention before, they were now. Oscar's hung his head as he reeled, his drunk mind trying to adjust to what happened. He began to chuckle, removing his coat and placing it on the stool. He lifted his head, revealing a mild nosebleed and mean smile.

Perhaps it was the rage of being surprised, or the thrill of a good fight, or maybe just good old fashioned testosterone. Oscar was suddenly very eager to throw down.

"Alright Kip, let's rough house." Oscar stepped forward, removing his shirt (as is fight club tradition). He threw his shirt at Abner's face before ducking in for a punch to his gut. Oscar figured Abner could handle it, the man's abs were like iron. 

Abner Armstrong

The fight was a blur, all Oscar could remember was enjoying himself. Blows were exchanged, blood was spilled, bruises were formed, 10/10 solid brawl. However, it was not a fight night. While the bar patrons enjoyed the rowdy display, poor Armando knew the rules and had to enforce them. Even if it meant kicking his own boss out of the bar. 

Armando broke up the fight roughly but was gentle in his actual removal. He allowed Oscar to grab his coat before leading him and Abner out of the bar. Oscar chuckled as he put his coat back on, he was still rather intoxicated despite the adrenaline. He was covered in bruises and cuts, but too drunk to really care. He wrapped his arm around Abner, "Ya damn right, I'll kick your ass any day of the week! Now get out of my sight, ya too drunk!" 

Oscar unwrapped himself and stumbled forward. He made it a solid four feet toward the dorms before having to re-balance himself against a wall. 

"Damn sub won't stay steady. Good night Abner, crazy bastard." And thus Oscar went off to who knows where, because the direction he ended up going certainly wasn't his dorm.

Abner Armstrong /end