At least, until he was ripped from their grasp.
The three staggered as Moony toppled away. The drunk was easily swayed, the blast knocking him off kilter. Jenson himself toppled back against one of the benches, stunned as he tried to tried to gain a sense of bearings. He grunted, hand finding purchase on the surface next to him, a flurry of blinks as he looked to the sailors opposite him. They were gathering themselves, the panicked screams of Aziza being the chorus that stirred them. Her tongue clicked in Tek, not that he understood the words. Jenson shook his head, ”Begads. Slow down. I don’t understand-“
Her expression was one of fear. No, horror. As he followed the gaze, the pub silent as the inhabitants awkwardly stared upon the victim of the mona. Even a few of the patrons were trying to get away, leaving over the dormant Moony while his blood began to stream across the floor. Jenson’s eyes swivelled to her, ”What did you do Spoke?”
Jenson pulled himself up, flexing his fingers as he stood. He briefly looked to the Sailors, who in turn were looking at him for the next move. He shrugged, he had no idea. One moment this girl was scared, the next she was all over Moony looking to right the wrong. Part of it made him think ‘serves you right’, but then the internal groaning of the mess that was beginning to seep everywhere made him move into action.
”Everyone out,” he exhaled. No one moved, ”Everyone out now!”
Patrons shuffled into life, groaning as they escaped out into the drizzle. Tankards were clunked down, coats shrugged on, they awkwardly stepped around the situation. The barkeep cursed under his breath, ”You idiot.” He shifted around to Moony’s feet, tugging and pulling them together, ”Hans, Peter, help me get him upstairs. You, get the door closed.”
The dead weight of Moony was taken between the three of them, the various grunts and groans as they took the matter into their own hands. Awkwardly they took him up the narrow steps at the back of the bar, up into the attic space and his own quarters. It kept them out the way then with whatever she was going to do next. He gave a barking order, ”Get the blanket, lay him out.”
Laying the drunken man out on his side, the Wick merely shot a glance to the others before stalking back below, ”Thanks, but I think you both should get out of here. Just going to get the place stinking.”
“You sure Boss?” it was Hans who spoke, his voice a whisper.
”I got this. Go on, beat it.”
They shuffled downstairs, the Barkeep following to stop at the counter. Beatrice looked at him with her large yellow eyes, her tongue licking the moisture upon her chin. He sighed, ”Yes, I know. I know. I’ll clean up in a moment.”
He found the bottle of yellow rot, skulking his way back upstairs to place down the drink. It landed with a clunk, the interior sloshing within. He frowned, eyeballing Moony and the blood that escaped his skull. He pinched his brow, ”Sack it. Shall we add knockout to your fortune telling?” he shook his head, ”Unless you need me, I’ll be cleaning up down stairs.”
A snort, ”Though, wouldn’t be too nice to ‘im. He got what was coming.”