"It's a thrilling tale of a dried apricot, four bags of flour, and a torch." -- Gallifreya
Ax'and'l blinked very slowly. It was telling that he was getting used to these levels of crap. And if he let on, he knew that Hwell would only invent new and more interesting levels of crap.
"Save it for getting free drinks at the bars, and even then, I'm letting it known about your capacity limit." He sighed and turned to the Security Guard. "What's the cost-benefit analysis of this encounter?"
The Security staff seemed mildly alarmed. "This sort of thing is a regular occurrence?"
"I've tried to reduce his imbibings, but the man has ways of finding the local still and obtaining his excess, regardless." Ax'and'l glared at his human companion and vented his lingering irritation in a high-pitched whistle that he knew made Hwell's hangovers worse.
"Have you tried--"
"Everything. He has a knack for escaping it all."
"I just want to have a little fun, is all," complained Hwell. "What's the matter with a little fun?"
"The trail of wreckage by which I and others can track you," complained Ax'and'l.