[BlueInTheShell]

Riddell sighed and slugged back another round of what someone could only assume was vodka...At some point in its like...And looked around with tired eyes, taking in the sights of various pre-warp items that this little bunker-turned bar had managed to keep and salvage. A few balls from some sport called Tennis were the ones people seemed to be rather keen on, whatever that had been in the past. Another sip of his drink and the young man felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as he struggled to not expell the alcohol out of his mouth. His friends in his gut didn't seem to really enjoy whatever he was putting in them. Not that they had a say in what was going in him at the moment. He ahd fed them...Him...Whatever the proper term was at this point plenty today, and the radio broadcast about the remains of a street whore viciously mauled by what should have been an animal was his testement to that.

"Slug-boy! Your better demands your attention!"

It was a voice that made Riddell cringe inside and roll his eyes over towards the blue-skinned, horned monstrosity known as his partner, who seemed to be lost in the realm of an old crane game, the woman watching the claw pick up a prize, only to let it go with a jolt when it locked in place. The look on her face from the reflection was something far, far from being happy, and Riddell slid from his seat, to give the supreme overtyrant of the bar his fullest attention, Riddell yawning and leaning against the alien, letting out a dull groan at her. "Listen, Hex. The fucking machine is a scam. You're not going to get anything from it." He croaked, nearly stumbling backwards when the alien's twin tails gave him a shove to get the infested guy off of her; Hexeri looking towards him with incensed eyes.

"I blew all of my alcohol money trying to test my mettle and win these prizes. I demand I get one of them, or I'll incinerate this place first when I rule this stupid chunk of moved rock." Hexeri boomed, the alien earning some concerned looks from the rest of the humans, and then the bartender, who shook his head. "You can get your money back if you stop acting like a lunatic, ma'am." Riddell nodded in agreement with the man, and did his best to try and calm the blueskin down. "C'mon. I'll buy you something to drink, and I'll even let you regale me with more stories of what you'd do to Earth when you run it." He said dryly, seeming to appease Hexeri. At least for now. "Besides, you still owe me an explanation for why I woke up to you staring at me from across my half of the room."

Hexeri leered at him and gave the crane machine one last smack with a hand, before she submitted herself to being coaxed into listening to the pink-colored money-ancestors, the woman sitting down on a chair next to the spot Riddell was formerly lurking, soon shadowed by the slug-infested man. Shooting her eyes towards the bartender, the alien pointed towards a bottle of something green and then nodded. "That. It looks pretty. And I want all of it. The whole bottle, human-thing." Hexeri barked out, Riddell taking his seat again, and rolling his eyes at the woman.

"You know, you gotta learn how to talk to people. Not everyone is gonna be scared of an alien. And once people realize you're not all high and mighty, you're gonna end up either dead on the streets, or some chained-up cocksleeve for some dude who has a thing for interspecies loving."

The thought of being intimate with humans made Hexeri retch, and then down the entire glass of whatever this green stuff was she had been given, coughing and sputtering as it burned the entire way down. "The day I sleep wit my soon-to-be subjects is the day you get cured of defacting slugs, Slugboy."