((After Off the Track, before Salt))

The very sight of mushrooms was usually a very pleasing sight. Crunching paper bags, the silence that descends upon the room when the bag parts to reveal its spoils. The scent of dried mushrooms tease his nostrils, strengthening his religious belief in steamed mushroom rice ...

The bartender glanced at him, hands wiping off a particularly grimy spot on a glass. The creature was horned and large; he looked far too bulky and clumsy to belong behind a bar counter with cocktails and various alcohols. Even though he had succeeded in his task, his gaze was still upon the young teenager seated at the bar counter. He watched on silently as the young man's jaw moved up and down rhythmically to an unknown beat, chewing on tender and succulent grilled chicken drummettes. The gentle squeaking of glass annoyed the teenager somewhat; he turned to the bartender with a smile on his face, oiled fingers tapping a chicken bone against the plate.

"Would you stop that?" he asked with a laugh, then turned back to his religious moment where he sacrificed his hunger to the grilled chicken - they were go(o)d. The bartender merely raised an eyebrow on his expressionless face and set the glass down on the counter before cleaning another. The day was still young and there was a gap of around two hours before the rowdy night crowd made their entry into the tavern. It was then that the bar would be truly active; when the families out to dine went home and the young humans made out at the back of the structure, the drinkers, yellers and fighters would file in and order their choice of brew.

An hour passed in silence and he was still eating. Grilled chicken drummettes were second to only mushrooms and nothing else; there was nothing in the world that could disturb the sanctity of this very moment. He calmly set the last bone on the plate and got up from his stool. Finished with his meal, he paid his bill and moved to the next stool like he always did. The bartender, still new to the scene, couldn't help but raise another eyebrow at his actions. Master, the main bartender that handled the night crowd was used to his antics, but this was not Master. This was a totally different bartender.

"Ehhuuuum. Pardon me, but I gotta ask something quick. Why'd you do that?"

The teenager's ever-present smile widened. Why did he do that, the question was? Why not? he responded mentally and tapped his forehead absentmindedly. His thoughts skipped from one serious answer to a funny one, his imagination running rampant in imagining the bartender's response. "Call it OCD, call it me; call it anything you please," he said mischievously and reached over the counter to pick up a glass. He tossed it casually from hand to hand, then set it back to its original position, much to the unconcealed relief of the bartender.

"I just like doing what I like."

"We're not complaining!"

A southern voice rang in the air before a Kotemon flopped onto the seat the boy had vacated. A dark haired tamer, young but tall for her age, joined her partner, seating herself on the stool next to the Kotemon. The Kotemon wasted no time in making her order.

"I want fried catfish!"she whooped loudly. "With... um...." She looked thoughtful before glancing to Claire. "Whatever my partner orders to drink!" She grinned in the depths of her helm before looking forward.

The girl, Claire, sighed but nodded. "Grape soda for both of us..."she said, already feeling a headache coming on. She leaned back and looked at what the other denizens of the tavern were eating before seeing Ein's meal. "I guess whatever he's eating,"she said with a shrug, wanting something light to eat.

The bartender shuffled off to tend to his orders, but without crushing several glasses barehanded with his strength. It was more of an accident than an intentional action, but it was startling enough to jolt Ein briefly. The teenager chuckled under his breath and glanced away. Such strength ... would it be too much to request strength matching that of the bartender? Would it be possible for someone as thinly-built as him to wield such power?

"Careful," he muttered, displaying a sense of kindness he had not bothered to put on until now. Ein picked up several glass fragments, gritting his teeth a second later as the tempered glass sliced open several of his fingers. Careful, his mind taunted playfully. Ignorant of the pain - or was it that he couldn't feel it? - he gathered the glass into a pile and gestured for the bartender to clean up the mess. Without further thought, he sucked absentmindedly on one finger and turned to the new arrival.

"Hiya."

Claire leaned around her partner, looking to the boy. Her blue green eyes met his orange eyes and she nodded, looking him up and down. "Hello,"she said, her partner now absorbed in downing her first round of grape soda. "Who are you?"

No partner... did he just arrive?

"I'm Claire Evans,"she said, feeling unusually loquacious. Something about the boy made her want to talk a little more. Maybe it was just seeing another human outside of battle. He was clearly Asian, that much was apparent.

He makes me think of Kaoru...

Ein raised an eyebrow. Rarely was someone so friendly as to offer their name right off the bat. It was uncommon in the Digital World - or was it? As far as he remembered, most of the time, it was him offering his name first. With a smirk, he mused: It's about time someone returned the gesture.

"Who am I, huh ... someone of, well, probably some importance to you."

He glanced at her.

"Otherwise we wouldn't have met."

A clinking of glass broke the silence between the humans. The bartender was standing there, agape ... as well as he could perform the action with his face. Uuurrrghh ... that was a pick-up line? I could have done better than t-that ... yeeergh. Whatever it is he did, he cringed, mentally while wiping the counter and gingerly arranging chicken drummettes on a plate.

"Drummettes," he grunted, sliding the plate across to Claire.

Claire gave him an odd face, lips quirking to one side and brow furrowing. He was... quirky, that was for sure. She idly reached over and took a drummette between her forefinger and thumb, hold it up and rolling it between the two appendages. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about but was interrupted by a peal of laughter.

Kash had been listening to the conversation and was now having a hoot. Her mind was on a similar if not the same wave length as the Bartender and the fact that the boy had dared tried to use such a pick up line on Claire was just hilarious to her. She burried her face into her arm on the table to hide that she was indeed laughing but the fact was that everyone within a six mile radius probably heard her first laugh.

Claire sent her a glare before continuing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing, not at all," responded the teenager, lying upon his arm on the counter in silence. He looked at Claire for a moment, then turned his attention back to the bartender. "Nothing at all ..." he continued, grinning into his arm. It seemed that he finally realized what the duo were thinking, and it definitely wasn't that. It was just the way he phrased his sentence, his natural hindrance and avoidance towards eloquent speech that made him fail once he attempted to make himself seem polite and friendly.

Ein's mind returned to Wormmon unwillingly. Why did the worm Digimon make friends that easily? Was it the way he spoke, or the way he carried himself? It seemed that people were more than willing to listen to his words, and proceed to take the appropriate action after hearing what was said. The teenager planted his head between his palms, exhaling.

"I mean. Like, sometimes you meet someone but they just start talking ... it's strange, I know. Zackie, on the other hand wasn't so willing to talk ..." he added wistfully, but all sense of nostalgia was dissolved when he rapped the counter to draw the attention of the massive being arranging bottles of liquor.

The bartender extended a hose of sorts, pouring some soda into a new glass, then garnished it with some lemon before sliding it across to Ein. Zackie? First he tries to hook a girl ... wow ... and he admits ... he's G-A-Y?! thought the creature, his head jerking backwards as he then shook his head, trying to rid his mind of unwanted thoughts and ideas.

Claire shook her head and took a drummette carefully between her forefinger and thumb. She took a bite of it, pulling the meat off the bone, and chewed thoughtfully. It wasn't bad; it was definitely acceptable eats. Though she wasn't really a huge fan of fowl as food... or as anything else.

Stupid animals

The name Zackie stuck though and she glanced at the boy. "Zackie?"she asked. "I had... my dad is named Zack... Nice coincidence." Her curiosity was piqued. It was possible that there was more than one Zack here but it was always worth a shot....

Though it was probably best to keep the fact that she was from the future to herself. Everyone would think she was insane. She took another bite of her chicken and noticed that he was lacking a partner Digimon. "Where is your digimon?"

Her own was eying the Bartender. "Hey, ya' haven't forgotten about my fried fish, have you?"Kash asked, leaning to look over the counter at the man. "Or are you just going to ignore me?"

Too busy eavesdropping...

Ein nearly choked on his soda. His Digimon, huh. That was a question he had expected to hear from Claire, but hadn't expected to hear it out loud and directly. Whatever the case, his composure was lost for a moment before he remembered to regain it. The teenager shrugged. "Not sure where he is ..."

"Last I saw him, he was cooking rice with mushrooms."

The boy glanced aside. Even though mushrooms were a rare delicacy, he didn't like the fact that his Digimon liked to cook shiitake, which he avoided like the plague. It had something to do with its scent, or something similar to that. He just ... couldn't stand it. Ein chuckled under his breath and his gaze fell level with Claire's.

"Heh. Zack is a pretty common name, I guess."

Not that I know, I don't know ... as far as I know, there was a year where over 30% of kids, male and female were named Sora ...

Ein shook his head and the bartender glanced at him, then at the Kotemon. He shrugged, returning to his cleaning and arranging of alcohol with a calm gesture at the grill outside. The flame was still not lit yet, for the Bearmon tasked to light it was not yet able to figure out how to use a lighter. However, another figure approached the Bearmon, quietly instructing him how to use the man-made object without crushing it.

"Err-huh. I guess ya gonna have to wait a little, or I can get you some sashimi."