A Happi Place

Bartender and owner of Happi's Place serves an oathless Maratasen and provides uncoventional insights (A Happi Place, image by James Goudie)

“What now?” the Maratasen asked, his paws clutching his hanging face as he sat at the bar, waiting for nothing.

His ears perked as he heard ice clink against glass. “On the house.”

He looked up to see the bartending Masian, who held a slight smile as he returned to using his rag to wipe the counter.

The Maratasen hesitated but decided to take the drink. “Why not…” His claws clutched the glass.

“Not like there’s anywhere you gotta be.” The Masian said confidently, continuing with his duties.

The Maratasen stared at him curiously, his paw suspended before his face with the drink, his tribal tattoos exposed on his arm. The drink glowed with rolling shades of orange, contrasting wildly against his white fur. The color reminded him of home… of his people. Red specks swirled throughout the drink and they turned to embers in his mind. The background chatter became cries for help as a burning called from the scar beside his eye. He winced and snarled, shaking the thoughts out.

He took a sip.

That’s strong.

“I know, I know.” The Masian threw the rag on his shoulder as he began to tinker with various devices, steam issuing from sundry release valves. The Maratasen heard as liquid bubbled and gurgled. “I don’t have any place to speak on that. But I can tell you’re not one to talk much so I thought I’d spare you the bother.”

“Well...” The Maratasen scoffed with a very short laugh, keeping the drink close to his lips. “You’re not wrong.”

“How long has it been?” The Masian asked as he tended to his concoctions. “Since you left?”

The Maratasen looked away as the word slowly dug beneath the skin. He waited for a moment as he considered leaving.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. It’s just… you’re not the first like yourself to sit at this bar… exiled and all, you know?” He caught the Maratasen sneer at the word.

“I wasn’t exiled.”

“Forgive me… but Oathless all the same, right?”

It went quiet for a moment.

“Happi!” An Inarian woman from behind the counter approached the Masian. “My shift was supposed to end at the third light…”

“Ah. Then what are you doing here still?” Happi laughed.

“Well I…”

“Arweanne, you don’t ever have to wait for my word. That door is always open for you, whether it’s to let you in or see you out. What we agree to is all that I expect of you.” He said cheerfully. “But you can stay if you want!”

“Th-thank you. I suppose I’m just not used to that.”

Happi looked to the Maratasen who appeared to be ignoring the situation, but he knew better. “It’s just a matter of time is all.”

Arweanne happily left with a nod.

“People just don’t know what to do with themselves sometimes.” Happi chuckled.

“What? You don’t think you should tell her when she can go?”

“Why should I?” Happi shrugged. “She just works here. It’s not like I own her.”

The Maratasen repositioned himself in the seat and continued with the drink. He wasn’t used to that either.

That’s REALLY strong.

“It’s good, right?” The Masian asked, his smile hanging in the balance.

“It is.” The solemn, furred mercenary responded, his tail flicking. He felt obligated to partake in the radiant vibe emanating from Happi, and he felt his sour mood cracking. “I think it’s the strongest drink I’ve ever had.” He said with a chuckle. The unexpected feeling made him belt out a laugh.

A laugh. He had laughed.

The Maratasen shook his head with a smile upon realizing. “Reminds me of a drink back home… Ska.” He downed the rest of the orange nectar. “Tingled on the lips just like this.” He rubbed his lips together, feeling the tingles out before they faded.

“That’s the Happi special right there, the best on Sorbis. Must be a mean drink, this ska!” He winked, taking the glass. “This place is my home.” Happi set the glass down and raised his arms wide. “I spent years going around looking for that right place, y’know?”

The cat nodded.

“Then one day…” He shrugged. “It just kinda felt like I got there, but the scenery hadn’t changed...”

The mercenary glanced around, suddenly appreciating the warmth of the place for the first time.

“Like I could make a home out of anywhere, as long as I made it so.”

The Maratasen nodded for a moment, reflecting. A moment passed and he abruptly stood from his seat.

“Oh, you’re leaving? Is it something I said? I’m sorry, I often-”

“No,” he responded lightly from the depths of thought. “I just- I think it’s time I go.”

“Then I think you’re right.” Happi smiled.

The Maratasen tapped the bar. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Maratasen smiled. “The drink.”

Happi grinned.

“Anytime.”

by Chet Delano