Didn't it just figure that the first place Jink would wake up in was under attack by a hurricane. It wasn't the rain that bothered him, though. Not at all. He just felt... empty. How'd he get here? Where on the planet was here? He couldn't remember. Had he been drunk? Mugged, maybe? The latter was unlikely, the purple-furred cat mused as he floated through the air. It seemed that he was some sort of magician. Magicians were probably pretty damn hard to mug, right? Right! So he must have been drunk! Shifting into the form of a soft, furry, purple housecat, he hunkered down on a fence and then began to walk along it. His balance was perfect... hmm, he certainly wasn't concussed.

Jink's lack of memory continued to bother him as he walked past a building that seemed to be bustling with people in various stages of intoxication. Many of them probably remembered even less of the day than he did, from the looks of it. Ignoring the looks from the people around him, both drunk and sober, the floating purple cat sat down on a stool and stared unwaveringly at the bartender.

“Whiskey, please. Lots of it.”