As they sat on stools that groaned under their collective cosmic weight, Elara looked at her companions. "We are a disgraced royal, an exiled immortal, and a literal manifestation of sin. Why are we here again?"
"We got ale and 'The Special,'" the bartender grunted, polishing a mug with a rag that was arguably filthier than the glass. A Princess, an Elf, and a Demon Walk Into a Bar...
"Exactly," Malphas chuckled. "And we were still ten minutes early for happy hour." As they sat on stools that groaned under
Malphas took a massive swig of the liquid fire and grinned, showing too many teeth. "Because, Princess... the Dark Lord might be coming for your kingdom, and the Void might be swallowing the Elven forests, but even the apocalypse needs a designated driver." "Exactly," Malphas chuckled
The Princess approached the bar, tapping a manicured finger on the sticky wood. "A glass of your finest vintage," she commanded. "Preferably one that hasn’t been used to clean a boot."
The flickering neon sign outside didn’t discriminate, but the trio currently standing at the threshold was testing the structural integrity of the "All Realms Welcome" policy.