Theo wandered the streets for a while, mulling over Chris’ words. His feet walked across cobblestones by themselves as his mind and eyes were otherwise pre-occupied.

What could he do to help Jenny? Or all his friends and colleagues who had been affected?

He ambled through a now-empty Commerce District, eyes focused just enough to stop him from running face-first into anything or anyone.

That is, until he came across Frank’s Meats. His head froze and stared, even as his legs continued on for a moment, almost stumbling from the tension within his body.

It was dark and unoccupied, like a lot of the stores around it. But even so, it felt, both more appropriate for it to be dark, and more ominous. If he looked into the shadows, there was almost something there.

Theo shook his head, banishing thoughts about the…defensive owner. It stood as it always did, and the shadows no longer looked any deeper than those of the shops to its sides.

Still, he picked up his pace and politely rushed out of the Commerce District.

---

It came as no surprise to Theo when he found himself outside The Pub.

He entered his home away from home, out of a brisk night of shadows and moonlight, and into a warmth of light and trapped body heat.

The wave of sound was more welcome than anything else. The sheer chaos, the roughhousing, the sounds of wooden vessels thudding onto tabletops, it was comforting. At the very least, it gave him something to focus on instead of thinking less than lovely thoughts about Frank, and of course, that night.

He forcefully pushed that subject far from the surface of his mind, and let the smell of sour yeast and urine take him to a more familiar (if not the most hygienic) place.

Theo sat down at the bar, and signalled at Alan as a beer slid into place in front of him. He shifted around. His usual seat was taken, another small irritation to compound everything else that had already gone wrong.

He sighed, shoulders slumping and leaning heavily on the counter. He grasped the beer and downed it in one go, ignoring the trickle that made its way past his mouth and started to travel down his neck to his shirt. Theo wiped it with the back of his hand, and then wiped his hand on the back of his pants.

“Out with it.” Alan grunted in his direction, another beer already on the way. Theo swapped it out with the now-empty mug in his hand. As much as he wasn’t usually one for getting too drunk, if there was any occasion that deserved a drink it was this.

He took a moment to formulate his thoughts, whether due to exhaustion or the alcohol seeping into his system (not fast enough for his taste), or simply the fact that so much had happened that he didn’t know where to start.

“It’s…I’m tired.” Theo eventually ground out, slumping over in a great impression of a slug. “Need to unwind.” Theo drained the second mug as quickly as he did the first, and as he tried to slam it down on the counter, he felt a bubble of gas rising up through his chest and into his throat. He tried to slam it down, as Alan’s hand grabbed his wrist and stopped it from making contact.

For a moment, he thought of overpowering him and slamming it down anyway as a statement. Then he belched.

Directly in Alan’s face.

“Right, you’re not getting any more until I figure out what’s gotten into you.” Alan shook his head, turning away for a moment as he served a drink to another patron.

The felt his cheeks heating up. While The Pub was a den of chaos and rudeness on the best of days, he had burped in the face of its custodian. It wasn’t entirely lawless; how else would the bar brawls result in (relatively) minimal furniture damage?

When Alan returned, it was with a look on his face. It was a look that Theo hadn’t seen directed towards him in quite a while, ever since he was a kid who ran around and broke things out of curiosity. It was the look that Alan had to employ anytime someone got so shitfaced drunk they were a liability and required babysitting.

Disapproval, frustration, resignation. Most identifiable by the near-silent sigh that usually prefaced it.

“Sorry.” Theo mumbled.

A glass ended up in front of him, and he stared at it in confusion.

A moment later, he was no longer confused, just disappointed. It seemed that Alan was sticking to what he’d said.

What was in front of Theo was a mug of water.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Alan prodded.

Theo mentally prepared himself, deliberately dredging up what he had been prepared to pretend hadn’t happened. He was conflicted; glad that Alan cared and wanted to hear about his problems like always, but also unsure if he was ready to discuss it so soon. Alan waited as he deliberated internally, polishing glasses as he kept a surreptitious eye on Theo.

Theo made his decision. “Well, let me start with this ball that Rowena was planning…”

---

“…and then I end up walking past Frank’s Meats and it was terrifying. And now my usual seat is taken!”

Theo coughed. “No, no don’t move it’s okay, sorry. It’s not your fault.” He reassured the skittish man in his usual spot, even as he looked profoundly uncomfortable as he eavesdropped. He gave the poor interloper a sheepish smile.

“Anyway, that’s how my past few days have been. And everyone is feeling horrible, and Gilth knows I am too. What I wouldn’t give for a break. Or a way to fix this.” Theo griped.

“Frank isn’t that bad once you know him. Still an asshole, but still.” A moment later, a much-less enthusiastically delivered beer appeared in front of Theo once more. With a grateful smile, he took a measured sip.

“This is the kind of thing that scars and breaks people. I don’t think there’s anything more you can do besides be there for them and give some advice now and then.” Alan shrugged as he gave advice of his own to Theo.

He nodded, then paused. “Wait, you know Frank?” It wasn’t relevant to the rest of their discussion, but he couldn’t imagine Frank being friends with anyone, or having any sort of life that didn’t revolve around scaring anyone within hearing distance of his store.

“Frank isn’t going to find you the solution. Focus.” To anyone else, Alan would have sounded overly serious, but Theo could pick out the mirth hidden behind the words. He nodded in gratitude.

Alan was really good at putting his mind at ease and talking things through and -

Theo came to the realisation that what Alan did for him tonight (and most nights, frankly) was exactly the kind of support and advice that might be helpful in these situations.

What if there was somewhere similar to this, but private, where he could talk to and comfort and support those that had gone through this ordeal?

As he shifted on the wooden stool, he made a note to have something more comfortable in this hypothetical private support room.

Maybe a couch.