Mixed Drinks

With a roll of her hips she’s engaged more than one impromptu partner waffling to the beat, they were impaired, all of them, but only to a warm and bright high that they’d all need to work off.

That was the point after all, a little pleasure, and a whole lot of dancing.

Serendipity is considered a dry club, but there’s a reason it’s a moving establishment, given what they sold, safety was more the ethical concern than legality. Luckily for Waverley, she’d already placed more than her share to keep the club fleet and discreet.

She took another drink of the Syrup and pulled in a wall flower, overdressed, or maybe uncomfortably underdressed who’d been watching Waverley like the stickiness left on her glass. Sliding her empty glass off on a table she stole a hand from her new dance buddy, “new blood right?” she asked, only half recognizing the girl. It was equal chances that she’d been an efficienoto of one of the disbanded clubs before joining up for the fun, but it seemed unlikely.

“Not really. I’m just here with…”

Waverley couldn’t hear who with the music, “Oh, thats fine. Have you had any Nectar?”

“No thanks.”

“Well, more for me than.” she said, taking a gulp, which with her new buddy brightened everything up. “You been here before-?” She left a pause before, “sorry what’s your name?” hand in hand, they were going to dance, it’s just a case for matching the next track.

“Posey. And no.” she said, not pulling away but still a bit… indecisive for Waverley’s taste. Maybe she was just over agreeable.

Waverly brightened with little reason, “Oh sweetness no way. And here I thought you were just shy, staying off the dance floor an’ all.” offering the meaning if not the words. Not everyone liked the words.

Posey denied it, “I’m not really, I’m just with a friend.” She looked around, but moved forwards towards Waverly, as she backed into the dancefloor again.

“I know that, maybe. Where’d they go?”

“Yeah, ah. She went to take a leak. Like 4 minutes ago.” Posey looked at her wrist to gesture the time, though she didn’t wear a watch.

Waverly for her part was getting the sunshine feeling again, “good, good. I’m sorry I didn’t catch her name.”

“Yeah, that’s the music I guess.” Posey said, indulging Waverly in dance. But as the dance wears on Waverly starts to feel woozy, something the uppers in the Nectar wouldn’t usually allow for.

Suddenly all the brighter than tide colors started to morph into a truly unappealing blur of barf and sewage in her mind. Truly disgusting. And the wall flower, well asides from certainly being a thought in her mind, a figment, Waverly was suffering a sense of clarity that others called reality. Suddenly the thin lines which made it all up were made into words in such a regular font that even she, as a being trapped within them, was aware of their artificial nature.

Soon, the colors that had shifted had become literal, before settling from her mouth into the repetitive splish splash of a cleaner than expected porcelain throne.

Behind her was the voice of the wall-flower, a pink Posey now she sees it, wrapped in a loving and lovely sweater. Her legs hurt, as much from the position as from the flame in the muscles of the one, though if the shifting nature of reality is to be believed which leg it was didn’t matter, and could not be perceived.

She barfs again, as in her renewed sense of smell, Waverly finally remembering her name is rather scared that her nose will meet the waterline if she were to purge farther. For so long as a minute she’d seen the limits of her perspective of reality, and yet even the tremble of her limbs, however many she had only made her certain she exists.

She exists.

But she’d forgotten why she was barfing, and still beyond some several voices and her name, herself. And then, as she relearned what temperature was, Waverly figured it out.

That was the point of the fee, keep it moving, keep it fresh, keep law enforcement as much as the medicos unconcerned. But now looking over at her helper, who was looking more and more like an angel she couldn’t help thinking there was something very wrong here.

“Posey, um. I think someone fucked with my Syrup.” Waverly said, so very happy that the Wallflower was being so attentive. Even looking out the weird half-tissue-underpass-door and to the urinal. Which she was kinda wondering about, but not particularly.

Posey pulled at her sweater, which was sad ‘cause it looked so freaking friendly, “Yes, that is most likely. Given the fever, the delirium, and the apparent nausea.”

“Well that’s nice.” Waverly said, as she gazed at the not so dancy club goer, now without her outer layer, “Hey, why are you stripping?”

“Oh, well, I just need to um.” Posey stammered, before almost certainly realising that what she said about it wouldn’t matter until the world isn’t actually spinning, “Look, I already dosed your thigh. And you're lucid enough to just lean here, so I’m going to go do a few things. Don’t wait up.”

At which point the room became cold in a way, and then suddenly very confusing because a completely different person came into the restroom. “Well shit Posey, look at this.” Was the last words she could remember from that night, but that’s totally fine.…

Waverly for all her worldliness was not an over experienced person. She was a willing person, and an enjoyable person, but she just didn’t have some memories to fall back on. Which is fine. And in all honesty was always a bit true, even before realizing that all the colors of the rainbow barfed the same.

“Hey so, we got the guy who was dripping freaking hand sanitizer into the Nectar.” was something someone said probably, but like a lot of things it wasn’t something she remembered seeing. Andrew Cressman, like Waverly, was a repeated attendee of Serendipity, and least in public seemed like a normal if private person.

He’d gone to many such clubs and had partaken of Nectar like everyone else. But he also hated that the fleet-clubs were always “dry”. He imagined some use in adding ethanol to the concoction despite the harsh reality of what that combination would do. Even as upon further testing he was found to never have done so himself.

It was a bit strange all things considered, for someone who’d paid in to be so disconnected, to be so disparaging of even the most basic of safeguards, but she supposed there were people that hated anything.

At the same time, she met a very nice woman who was apparently working security that night, and not only managed to catch Andrew, but also saved Waverly’s at the time dubiously perceivable life. She’d apparently worked at other such establishments, and had a knack for taking down flight risks like Andrew.

This was of course Posey, a pretentious and somehow real name, for a rather drab and all together unassuming woman. A stranger made familiar more so by the role she hadn't the words to recognize at the time, than by something normal like having seen her before. As someone who likes the words, Professional-Wallflower seemed to fit her. Though guardian angel worked too.

A fine use of the cover-fee was a good synonym as well, but Waverly was either ahead or sideways, or some other relativistic direction, if she spoke too much of it.