Another day, another bar fight avoided by the very thing that makes them so violent in the first place, the young Mystic thought as he put a single finger in his drink. He watched it chill to perfection before his eyes and brought the cup to his lips. With no warning, his mouth opened as wide as it would go and the entire drink was in his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and turned toward the action of the drinking game that had just started.

He would have joined in, but he was already starting to buzz and knew that these veteran drinkers would put him under the table in a matter of minutes. It was better to watch them make fools out of themselves than to not only be beaten, but also possibly passed out in the floor. Knowing that his booth seat was no place to watch the action from, he grabbed the bottle he'd ha delivered to his table and moved up to the bar to spectate, and possibly commentate along with others who weren't part of the main action.