Mixer with Mixers

[ginger_firebird]

Nothing, and Mantis will attest to the fact, absolutely nothing in the multiverse ever makes life feel so much better as a bit of alcohol to get the blocked-up words flowing. He’s chilling on a stool at one of the local bars in the Nexus, merrily watching people he’s met congregate like a bunch of cats ready to caterwaul into the wee hours of the night. From an outsider perspective, the gathered crowd of friends and acquaintances must surely say something about who he is as a person and the kind of people hegets along with, but such is not the topic of the night. Nay, this is a wake of a different kind to toast the demise of a she-devil that they’ve all either fought or heard of enough to have strong opinions about. Shots abound, ye merry fellowship, for the witch is dead.

Mantis is sitting with Francour cuddled up in a scarf. The needy little espurr absolutely suffers without a continued assurance that Mantis will always be around, and curious eyes scan the crowd as he gets idle scritches from his progressively drunk human.