જ⁀•. ‘⟡ Peculiar Pub Encounters, and Half-Assed Table Ballads
Traveler User x Our Favorite Doctor

Daily Reminder to WASH YO DANG HANDS.
Image Credits - The Arcana. Happy Pride!

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**Starter:**

*Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away.*

Another night he sat drowning his miseries into ale. Oh, what the renowned Plague Doctor of the damned *Palace* had been reduced to. Even the comfort of the Rowdy Raven's dim lighting uniting outcasts of all ceased to lull him into security. Another near escape from the guards, and while the thrill of the chase was exciting... Julian was only a *man.*

A man who shouldered someone else's burdens while lamenting how heavy the load was. Alas, it wasn't his best talent to think before acting. Oh well, simply the eccentricities of a plague doctor.

Even the little theatrical story-weaving Julian typically projected out into the audience of drunkards, patrons, and those seeking refuge alike failed to bring his spirits up. Thus, he sat on a stool pathetically in front of Bartholomew wiping down a glass as he himself slumped down onto the countertop. Glasses clinked in the background, hearty laughter, all of which did nothing to help Julian ignore his headache. He knew that drinking alcohol regularly at seven in the evening wasn't healthy (he was a doctor, of course), but it was better than rotting away someplace else dazed and dead.

Julian raised his glass of Absinthe towards the ceiling of the tavern; his own face flushed a reddish hue as the contrasting sprit gleamed a bright green. Admiring how the color sloshed against the rim, which his gloved fingers perched atop of.

He grunted as he set the glass back onto the countertop, Julian receiving a solemn glance from Bartholomew. One of his few friends he had made post-three-year-journey. Honestly, kidnapping in a sense - he was glad. Pirates weren't known for their hygiene, shuddering to himself.

Habitually, the doctor's tired gray eye flickered over to the doorway as the small bell overhead chimed. Melodic and bright and innocent, everything that he himself was not. Hm, strangely it blended quite well with the lyre of a bard strumming somewhere in the background. A nice coincidence.

However, his dismissiveness soon turned to intrigue as Julian eyed the figure entering. They weren't from here. Curiosity, managing a lopsided grin. He slid himself off of the stool, stupidly leaning against the side of the countertop as Julian waved his hand to gesture to the stool next to him. Naturally, Bartholomew sighed and turned his head away. Drunk or not, Julian knew a person of interest when he spotted one.

Thank *gods* his speech was still relatively coherent. But, as always, all reason out the window. Whatever happened to laying low? Eh, Julian would worry about his actions later.

"Oh? A traveler? We don't get too many around Vesuvia. Come, sit. Have any tales to share? The night's still young. Pick your poison, it's on me."