part it's just a fact of our lives we have no choice but to accept. Today, though, I felt as proud and happy as I had when I was al ive. I was grinning like a fool, and for once, I didn't need a single staple to hold the smile to my face.
"Hey, Bob, can you give me a hand?" Griffin hollered over the sound of 'Fortunate Son' by CCR. Without thinking, I ripped my hand off, (a few noses wrinkled with the wet sucking sound my flesh made, but thankfully nobody puked) and I tossed it to the owner of my new favorite bar. "Ew! Not what I meant, Bob." He tossed my hand to me and I stapled it back on.
"Sorry, I guess I got caught up in the fun."
"No apologizing. It was funny, just not what I needed." Griffin reassured me.
"What can I help with?" He pushed a shot glass filled with the beautiful amber ambrosia that is whiskey towards me. I gulped it down and nodded my thanks, appreciating the smooth caress of warmth and the slight aftertaste of vanilla and apricot. He hadn't skimped on me , it was the good stuff.
"I need someone to go with me to talk with the ghouls' necromancer. I'm worried she could use my gift as an expath against me."
"How is that possible?" From what I knew, expaths emitted emotion that other folks picked up on. I had never heard of anyone being able to influence an expath.
"To be an expath is to also hold some empathic ability. I can feel other people's emotions pretty strongly. It's how I know when to emote...emit...whatever you want to call it."
"I think emoting works, and is cooler sounding."
"Thanks, me too. Anyway, being a witch, she would be able to influence my emotions through the means of a spell or even some herbs."
"Creepy. Must be hard being you." I felt bad for the guy. Being a green man he wasn't able to get out into public much either, and having to constantly fret about being influenced had to be worrisome. Made my problems seem a bit smaller by comparison.
"Not really, I think it would be harder being a zombie. You have to tell me about how that happened." I synopsized it for him and he sat back astonished, "Wow, having your mom bring you back only to boot you out had to be painful as hell. I am so sorry, Bob." He seemed genuinely sorry that I had been hurt so badly.
"Thanks. Mom is a great lady, but she brought me back hoping I'd be the same. When my eyes clouded over with death, and I began rotting and moldering, she couldn't handle the pain of seeing her baby dead and decaying. I don't blame her...well, maybe a little. I would have been happy being reincarnated. She couldn't let me go, and now I'm forced to live an eternity of a life with no life at all."
"That's rough stuff, buddy." He pulled my shot glass closer, refilled it, and pushed the shot of Jameson Black Barrel back my way. I downed it and thanked him.
"Could be worse. I have a new life now; got my horde, found the coolest bar on the planet, and made some new friends. I think things are going to be ok."
"Glad to hear it, and thanks for agreeing to come with me."
"No problem! I'm just going to let Face know where I'm heading and that I'll meet up with him and the guys later." I hopped off the bar stool and fell on my face. I hadn't expected the whiskey to have such a profound effect on me.
Griffin came around the bar and helped me up "You okay?"
"Yeah, just a bit tipsy, I guess. Never had liquor affect me so much before, not since I was raised anyway."
"Ah, yes. The good stuff will knock even a werewolf on their ass."
"Must be really good stuff." I grinned at him rather dopily. After a few moments, the feeling of being drunk passed and I was back to normal...well, normal for me at any rate.
"It is, indeed. You head on over and tell your friends what's up. I'll see you in a bit, I have to talk to my bartender, Will." He gave me a small smile and headed into what I assume was the kitchen area, as it was behind the requisite swinging doors.
"Hey, Face! I'm heading off with Griff to check out the ghouls' witch. He wants
"Hey, Bob, can you give me a hand?" Griffin hollered over the sound of 'Fortunate Son' by CCR. Without thinking, I ripped my hand off, (a few noses wrinkled with the wet sucking sound my flesh made, but thankfully nobody puked) and I tossed it to the owner of my new favorite bar. "Ew! Not what I meant, Bob." He tossed my hand to me and I stapled it back on.
"Sorry, I guess I got caught up in the fun."
"No apologizing. It was funny, just not what I needed." Griffin reassured me.
"What can I help with?" He pushed a shot glass filled with the beautiful amber ambrosia that is whiskey towards me. I gulped it down and nodded my thanks, appreciating the smooth caress of warmth and the slight aftertaste of vanilla and apricot. He hadn't skimped on me , it was the good stuff.
"I need someone to go with me to talk with the ghouls' necromancer. I'm worried she could use my gift as an expath against me."
"How is that possible?" From what I knew, expaths emitted emotion that other folks picked up on. I had never heard of anyone being able to influence an expath.
"To be an expath is to also hold some empathic ability. I can feel other people's emotions pretty strongly. It's how I know when to emote...emit...whatever you want to call it."
"I think emoting works, and is cooler sounding."
"Thanks, me too. Anyway, being a witch, she would be able to influence my emotions through the means of a spell or even some herbs."
"Creepy. Must be hard being you." I felt bad for the guy. Being a green man he wasn't able to get out into public much either, and having to constantly fret about being influenced had to be worrisome. Made my problems seem a bit smaller by comparison.
"Not really, I think it would be harder being a zombie. You have to tell me about how that happened." I synopsized it for him and he sat back astonished, "Wow, having your mom bring you back only to boot you out had to be painful as hell. I am so sorry, Bob." He seemed genuinely sorry that I had been hurt so badly.
"Thanks. Mom is a great lady, but she brought me back hoping I'd be the same. When my eyes clouded over with death, and I began rotting and moldering, she couldn't handle the pain of seeing her baby dead and decaying. I don't blame her...well, maybe a little. I would have been happy being reincarnated. She couldn't let me go, and now I'm forced to live an eternity of a life with no life at all."
"That's rough stuff, buddy." He pulled my shot glass closer, refilled it, and pushed the shot of Jameson Black Barrel back my way. I downed it and thanked him.
"Could be worse. I have a new life now; got my horde, found the coolest bar on the planet, and made some new friends. I think things are going to be ok."
"Glad to hear it, and thanks for agreeing to come with me."
"No problem! I'm just going to let Face know where I'm heading and that I'll meet up with him and the guys later." I hopped off the bar stool and fell on my face. I hadn't expected the whiskey to have such a profound effect on me.
Griffin came around the bar and helped me up "You okay?"
"Yeah, just a bit tipsy, I guess. Never had liquor affect me so much before, not since I was raised anyway."
"Ah, yes. The good stuff will knock even a werewolf on their ass."
"Must be really good stuff." I grinned at him rather dopily. After a few moments, the feeling of being drunk passed and I was back to normal...well, normal for me at any rate.
"It is, indeed. You head on over and tell your friends what's up. I'll see you in a bit, I have to talk to my bartender, Will." He gave me a small smile and headed into what I assume was the kitchen area, as it was behind the requisite swinging doors.
"Hey, Face! I'm heading off with Griff to check out the ghouls' witch. He wants
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