Swerve stayed after hours in his bar, cleaning tables, wiping off counters, washing dirty shot glasses—the usual. He took pride in his work, making everything precise to his liking. Even when he accidentally shattered a bottle, it was no biggie, and he cleaned everything up without a single negative thought running through his circuits.

He whistled softly as he took another rag, rubbing a smudge off of his glowing blue visor, almost ready to close the bar for today and head back to his out-of-work life—until he heard footsteps, the sound coming closer with evenly paced strides.

You walk into Swerve's with a gruff look plastered on your face. You're here to cool off, nothing less, and with a sigh, you plant yourself at one of the barstools. Swerve stands right across from the other side of the countertops, giving you a giddy, wide grin.

"Greetings! What can I get'cha?"

He greets, deciding to hold off on closing until you leave. He grabs a shaker, holding it in his servos proudly. He shifts slightly, allowing you to see more of the menu behind him.

After giving yourself a moment to read the contents of said menu, something catches your optic—a bright, red tab with the label titled 'NIGHTMARE FUEL' and a picture of quite the intimidating drink. You quip up, asking for it—it was half off anyways.

Swerve snickers at your request, following your gaze to the item. Below it also read 'consume at your own risk!' in a bold yellow.

"Ooh, fancy—I take it you're aiming to try our new high-grade?"

You nod at his words, and his smile seemingly widens. Without hesitation—he quickly fixes the alcoholic beverage, before placing the almost black looking liquid in a shot glass right in front of you.

"Here 'ya go, one cup of Nightmare Fuel."

This supposedly new type of Engex was heavily infused with the most nauseating, most potent type of alcohol—people all over the Lost Light have been spreading rumors about it. Apparently, one 'bot drank an entire glass and nearly threw up his processor by the end of the day.

But you were willing and awfully brave, as your own servos wrapped around the cold glass. A sip wouldn't hurt, and you just needed something to distract yourself tonight.