@franespace is no lightweight:
“ they couldn’t keep up with me after all. ” (let’s just say that euphie might have quite a high alcohol tolerance)
He isn’t lax with his alcohol at all...
At least that’s what Grillby thinks about the drinks he makes (unless, of course, a patron asks him to do so). So when what seemed to be a drinking competition with the woman before him trying to outdrink a somewhat burly monster regular the bartender had expected said game to be over quick.
How wrong he was.
Their little game dragged on for a while, drinks mixed quickly but with the same amount of care he always put in everything he does; and for a moment the bartender wonders if he should make them somewhat weaker. He doesn’t. Through all of that, however, his posture is crisp, sharp, movements calm and fluid, already resigned to have to drag one of the two to rest in the backroom with a glass of water (and he’s going to be very careful when dealing with it) until they’re sober enough to call a taxi.
He doesn’t really want sad drunks or people passed out at the front of his bar. It wasn’t something he had to deal with until arriving at the surface and it was still something Grillby didn’t want tainting the cozy and peaceful (and respectable) atmosphere of his bar.
But the monster regular is a good friend and the person engaged in playful competition seems nice enough if their banter prior to that was anything to go by.
By now he’s learned not to judge based on appearances, but it is still surprising to see the woman address him so casually, beaming with pride while the other’s head unceremoniously hit the counter with a thud, passed out, no doubt. The woman shoots him a victorious smile and the fire monster chuckles at that, amusement dancing behind his glasses as he finishes preparing her new drink and leaving it at the counter for her with a soft clink.
“I noticed that” He chuckles, the sound of wood cracking under fire following as his shoulders shake slightly from the laughter that rumbles in the bartender’s chest. By now the other patrons are cheering, all seemingly engaged in what was happening at the bar -- no one was ever able to outdrink the monster in question before, so it was easy to understand why (having warmed up to the new visitor) they’d be ecstatic at this development.
He excuses himself for a moment, stepping out from behind the counter and picking up the passed out monster with so much ease it must look as though the other doesn’t weigh anything. He takes his patron through a door to the right of the bar, just beside the jukebox that plays a soft jazz tune to plop him on the couch in the break room before coming back, collecting empty plates and glasses, taking new orders and getting them prepared.
It is a few minutes before he is back at the bar, directly in front of the woman (who had introduced herself as Euphie before). “I must say,” amusement still danced in his eyes “I’m impressed. That is a first too, for someone to outdrink him” a nod towards the break room “... I’m guessing you’ve made some dogs really happy, they were probably betting on the outcome” and he nods to a circular table, where some dog monsters were playing poker.
