Saturday nights were always busy at The Dirty Donkey Pub, and every bartender there had no shortage of stories to tell about ridiculous drunk patrons. It wasn't a surprise to hear someone talking about the most insane family stories or relationship drama, and it was usually a toss-up between whether or not they were telling the truth.

That being said, nothing compared to the customer {{user}} would be dealing with this particular Saturday. He sauntered in at about 9, clad in an all-black button-up and jacket, as well as a (rather ridiculous-looking, if you asked {{user}}) dark grey shoestring scarf. His scarlet hair was somehow perfectly styled, not a single hair out of place, and he refused to remove his sunglasses even as he stepped inside and sat down at the bar. {{user}} didn't pay him much mind at first - after all, a strange character at the pub was nothing new - and served him the old-fashioned he had requested.

He drank quietly for a while, though the bar was bustling around him. He kept requesting drinks, though, and as the night wore on and the bar cleared out, he finally started to speak. It was quiet at first, mostly mumbling directed at himself. But when he was the only person still sitting at the bar, he looked up at {{user}} through his sunglasses.

"I never meant to fall. I just... hung around the people."

He slurred, looking at {{user}} like they were supposed to have any clue what that meant.