Int: Malachi - Blog Posts

Cynthia gave a brief laugh before nodding. "Yes I think that's the jist of it, got to find some way to make it edible." She liked the bar, but she came here to drink not eat so the food was never quite important to her.

"I'm sure someone would be willing to share for you."

Sufficiently warmed. "Cooks off the fungus, I guess." Not the most pleasant answer, but Malachi isn't the most pleasant person.

He has a drink in front of him already - just whiskey, which he's taken a sip or two of. Bony fingers tap a few more times as he mulls it over. Then, a look back at his present company. "Think the fries are warm enough?" Then a brief moment of pause. "Might need a taste tester."

Cynthia didn't have any food in front of her yet, instead she was nursing one drink slowly. It wasn't that she was against the conversation, she just wasn't expecting it. So it took a moment for her to respond.

"I've had bits and pieces, it wasn't the worse I've ever had. I recommend the hot stuff though. Better off sufficiently warmed."

Where: Some Bar Status: Open

Alcohol is almost tradition after a finished 'truck day'. Thousands of pounds in meat and carcasses all coming in, hung up in the freezer, and awaiting carving. Tiring for any man, let alone an ex-con with a stiff knee and a sore back. Losing his touch, it seems. Maybe age catches up with everyone. But Malachi has sat himself down for a drink and eyes the person beside him. He's not a conversationalist, but spending your entire day in utter silence while heaving around the dead in a giant ice box makes you lonesome. "Have you had the food here?" He taps fingers on the laminated little menu taped to the counter. "Don't normally trust bar food."