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He was a night owl once upon a time too, though mainly cause he was so hopped up on drugs he couldn't go to sleep for days. Those were dark days he just wanted to block out of his memory.

"As blazed as our money will allow..." He grinned back in challenge. "Is a Friday so why ******** no'? I' takes me some pitchers jes ta ge' buzzed unfortuna'ely..." It was a good check and balance in case he didn't want to do something he regretted, but on those nights he wanted to black out the world.... pain in the a**.

Worrying at the corner of the thick cloth napkin his silverware was rolled up in, We`rika purses his lips in a flat-line, suddenly curious. ".... How old are you?" It was a paranoia of his.

The shaman was equally blessed by the waitress as the sudden death glare that hit Alice's eyes was missed as he helped her position the plates around him. He should have known the man was older, he even had a few wisps of grey in his hair, though We`rika knew very well that traumas were just as likely to age a man as time was. Well and he had a limp too, but once again it could have just been an accident. Not like 36 was old, that wasn't the problem. s**t, he was ******** 34 (and when the ******** had that happened?!), it was the fact that Alice was older than him and.... the issues he had with that just--

It left him wanting to drink. He pulled his chilled glass to him silently and took a hefty gulp before moving to his burger to brood in his sudden funk.

It took most of the pitcher before We`rika started to lighten up. He had to remind himself that it wasn't Alice's fault he was bigger and older than he. It was like being angry at Sevilin for being good with hugs and big words. And well, he kinda wanted some of Alice's fries. He couldn't be a pouty puss and ask for fries, it didn't work that way.

It was pretty obvious though since the shaman had been staring at them for the past few minutes, the piece of onion he dragged precariously across his lips neglected for bigger and better things.

"Sooo...." God, the beer was already getting to him, how sad. "I guess I can assume since we're both livin' i' up tonigh' together, there's no super special awesome chick waitin' fer yer attention...." We`rika hadn't even thought about if Alice even had anyone. He doubted Sevilin knew about the man's personal affairs and for all he knew, Alice could just be humoring the idea for a sweet little boy.

A gimp? Ouch. We`rika didn't work at peak performance anymore, but he wouldn't go as far as calling himself gimpy. At least he guessed correctly it was an accident, which should seem logical since he was a police officer. He knew for a fact he had given some serious grief to a few officers in his hay day. Comes with the job.

The shaman snorted again, setting his glass down as he leaned closer on the table, watching Alice. "Ladies dun know wha' makes a real man anyways. Ya were a ********' cop! Ya like go' injured in th'line of fire or danger or wha'ever. Thas like.... sooo haw'! A girl should be creamin' her pants for a story like da'... A' leas' yers was heroic...." We`rika leaned back and sighed, grabbing his left bicep.

"I almos' go' this arm amputated--well.... ... is a long story..." One he really didn't want to go into, especially in front of a retired cop. "Bu' I canno' flex very well with i' anymore... A' leas' yer scars ain' visible..." Wrinkling his nose, the shaman traced the long mangled scar that wrapped around his entire arm. Though to be fair that wasn't the main reason it grew harder to find someone. It was the big pock marks and track marks that really dissuaded a classy gal.

"Well..." He laughed. "Excep' feeerr..." We`rika wiped at the top of his lip. "Gives ya character--I'm talkin' alo' ain' I? I usually dun have much ta say..."

We`rika caught the waitress' eyes with a suggestive glace and they were rewarded with another pitcher. Of which he empty what was left of his glass and went at downing another. Hey, he had a ******** agenda to complete. Ohhh yeah, it was starting to bubble up to his brain.

Nudging the pitcher closer to Alice, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, a' leas' I learned my lesson..." Never ******** pass out after an overdose with the constricting band still around your arm. Very importante. "Well thas good, usually when ah ge' rollin' mos' people canno' understand half of wha' ah say--" Can't really blame him since he learned English from lifers at a maximum security prison. Reaching for another glass, the shaman's long ears fell back devilishly at the sound of hesitation which he just had to prey on.

He leaned over and stuck that obnoxious grinning face of his in front of Alice. "Ohhh hummmm what could we do, Mr. Alistair....? I' sounded pretty importan'..."

Ahhh ha ha ha. We`rika's toothy grin split his face in half. Ohhhoohoo ahhh Alice. He didn't know cops could blush. Hooo ho this was deleeesheous!!

"No' tha' hard? I dunno.. I think ah'm pretty hard mos' of th'time..." Tsh, who said immaturity was a turn off!? He even had to giggle at his own joke. It was pretty good c'mooon. Putting a metaphorical foot up a cop's a** was an opportunity he just couldn't pass up!

"Sss'wha'....?" The shaman drawled on like a lazy cat, planning its final strike. Crawling forward on his palms, he had Alice right where he wanted to poke him, but with the fresh condensation of Alice's glass under his right hand, We`rika slipped and face planted right into the lacquered table with a loud smack.

After a moment of choking silence between them, the huichol started to breigh like the a** he was, listing his head from the wood and laughing his a** off. "Owww..." was the only complaint that escaped his lips as he held his burning forehead.