In which Chester proceeds to get drunk.

It was still fairly early in the afternoon when Chester made his way into the bar; he needed something to help him relax. He was still feeling tense and almost twitchy after last night's close shave.

At least the place was fairly empty; the lack of a crowd would make it easier to soothe his nerves. Sliding into a seat at the bar, the red-head glanced at what was available before ordering the house special, smiling easily (if a little wearily) at the bartender. Female. Pretty. Maybe if he was lucky-- single and interested in a one-night stand.

He'd stay only until the alcohol helped his body remember how to relax again. That was what he promised himself, anyway. Walking back to his flat would be a bitch, though, since drinking and motorcycles didn't mix any better than drinking and cars.

L Street: the bar too cool for an actual name. It was simply known by the street it was located on. It was just trendy enough to be cool, but not so trendy that it would be considered hip. Clayton Wray did not care about the bar’s popularity either way; he was just glad that it was quiet and there was never any actual trouble. With a life like his, those things were important. He raised his bourbon up to the dimmed light of the bar and examined the way the light shone through the liquid in the glass. It was a habit of his. He had no idea why he did it; it was just something he always did. It usually meant he was nearly drunk. Not tonight, though. Tonight this one drink was all he could afford.

Clayton brought the glass to his lips and tilted his head back as he gulped down the remainder of the glass. There was a slight burn in his throat and warmth filled his stomach before pouring into the rest of his body. The bartender was already there to offer him another before he even set his glass back down onto the bar. He did not need another and he would barely be able to afford it, but he had a hard time telling pretty women no under most circumstances. He simply shrugged and she refilled his glass. Once she was done with that, a stranger entered the bar, and took a seat a stool down from Clayton. He gave the newcomer a quick look over the same way he looked over everyone that came into his line of sight. He could never be too careful. The man did not seem threatening in the least; twitchy, but not threatening. His aura of nervousness gave the impression that he just might be dumb enough to buy Clayton a few drinks for the cost of some cheap parlor tricks. He would just have to find out. “Hey, you. Care to make a wager?” he called out to Chester with as sincere a smirk as he could manage.

Chester glanced over at the stranger as the bartender passed him his own drink, surprised by the hail; he raised an eyebrow and gave him a crooked grin. A wager? Well, it would certainly take his mind off his stiff shoulder.

"Depends," he replied. "What are we wagering?" His own eyes were half-lidded, but measuring. He'd spent a lifetime learning to avoid trouble as much as he could-- a difficult feat, giving his career choice. But he finally decided that the intoxicated man didn't seem all that threatening.

It did cause him to tweak his plans to get drunk, however; he'd take his drinks a bit slower than he'd originally planned, just to be on the safe side.

“Drinks, of course.” Clayton’s smile became genuine. He turned his bar stool over to face Chester. “Now, the game is simple…” he shrugged his shoulders, “All you have to do is just mirror everything I do exactly as I do it. 30 seconds. If you mess up, you buy me one. If you don’t, your next drink is on me.” Clayton was not sure he could even afford what the man was drinking. He had no choice but to be sure this scam worked.

He motioned the bartender over, “You want me to keep time again?” she asked

Clayton arched an eyebrow, “Again?” He answered her question with one of his own.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” She giggled, “You did this last time. You don’t even remember that much?”

“Vaguely… Maybe.” The last time Clayton was there was five months ago and a total blur, but he atleast now he had an idea of where he got that black eye.

Chester's lip curled in real amusement now, as he tilted his head just the slightest bit, green eyes glinting. It was definitely an interesting premise for a 'drinking game', as it were, and it piqued his curiousity.

Even if he didn't win, well, buying this guy some drinks was hardly much to ask. He wasn't exactly strapped for cash, after all.

"Alright then," he said, laughing a bit at the exchange between the man and the bartender while he turned on his stool to face Clayton. "I'm game. Do I get a warm-up round first?"

“A practice round, huh? Yeah sure, we can do that.” Clayton looked over to the bartender again “You wanna keep time for us?” He looked back to the mark, “Now all you have to do here is just mirror me. But you gotta do it exactly, and I mean exactly. So if I like say something or whatever, you have to say it too. Obviously I’ll give you a second to see what’s being done or hear what’s being said before you have to do it yourself.” He leaned over onto the bar and rested his head on his hand. “So, whenever you’re ready.”

Chester had no doubt he'd catch everything Clayton did, but his reflexes weren't the best. They were good, but good wasn't the best and if the wager were anything different, that might matter.

But this, well, this was just plain fun in the way that only knowingly making a fool out of yourself could be.

"Alright then," he replied, smirking with his eyes bright with interest, as he leaned back to watch Clayton intently. "After you, mon ami~"