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Two days had been sufficient time to recover from the inaugural hangover, and if Sid was truly a smart man he would have taken a few more before returning to the bar. He had his excuses, namely that he only intended to spirit a few bottles away to his duplex for later. He was perfectly capable of showing restraint, as he kept telling himself as he awkwardly trudged through the sand. His kept his head down, paying close attention to where he placed his cane with every step.

He didn't see Marshall until he reached the bar and looked up. So much for being sneaky. "You lost, kid?"

Sid leaned back in mild surprise when Marshall turned around. No furs, no feathers, no scales... He'd never even thought about running into other normal people. He looked at the bottle of rum, then to Marshall's face, then back to the rum, and Marshall again. Conclusion made, he pointed past him.

"Might wanna get a glass," he said. "Or two. Make it two."

"A few days," Sid said, leaning against the bar. "Still adjusting, you know?" As if all they had to get used to was the climate. He very carefully picked up his own glass, watching Marshall closely as he cringed. "You sure you're much of a straight rumkind of guy?

He nodded his head towards the rows of bottles. "I mean, I could fix you something with a little umbrella in it, easy."

He tried not to make it sound like a jibe, but then he could barely keep himself from laughing as he said it.

He took a large sip, enough to reducing the liquid left in the glass to what would have been an acceptable level to begin with. "I'm Sid," he said. "And I'd kinda prefer not to act like this is some kind of goddamned safari. S'one thing when the critters are sitting on the roof of the jeep, it's just ******** up when they're talking to you and sharing drinks and whatnot."

He shook his head, sending his far-too-long ponytail swaying.

Sid said nothing to that, he even managed not to laugh. Instead he pushed himself away from the bar and went to the other side. "Believe it or not, the burn gets to be pleasant after a while. Just not in the next few minutes, sorry."

He perhaps should have said something earlier, but then he wouldn't have been able to see that. To make up for it, he very carefully bent down to open the fridge. It wasn't clear what he was pouring until he slid a glass of milk over to Marshall. Not even a good White Russian, just milk. Such a waste.

After standing back up Sid was relieved to find his back had still yet to give out on him. He tried not to let it show and said, "That may help a little, but nothing's gonna make it stop except time. And practice. Actually, practice only makes you stop wincing. Oh, and rum? That stuff sneaks up and hits you like the angry boyfriend you were never told about- hard... and sometimes with a sock full of quarters. Only not literally. Forget that last part."

The way the words tumble out of his mouth could be almost entrancing as it is confusing.

"You'll see," he said to Marshall's first question, grinning. He took a moment to get some Coke to add to the rum. It wasn't like his teeth were ever going to be white again, anyway.

"As for before... I did odd jobs, mostly. I was always of the philosophy it's not good for a guy to stay in any one field of employment for too long." And, apparently, so were his various former employers- at least where he was concerned.

"You feeling any better? Or different?"

"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, kid," he said, putting the bottle of rum back. "You just drank about three shots worth there. All at once."

He snickered as he took a small sip of his drink. "Then again, so did I. We'll compare and contrast in a few minutes, how bout that?"