Tempest: The Moments In-Between (#1.5)

Chapter Seven: Wispy Rays

Des Louvière

Petite looked amazing! She hardly ever lets me dress her up, but when she does, it makes me really happy that I secretly sneak an outfit or two in her closet while she's out. Which, lately, seems to be a lot.

As we walked through Gwen's, I guided us straight to the bar—wasting little time in getting Penn to have a good time tonight. She certainly deserves some fun. Especially on her birthday.

Ever since Petite has become Tempest, she's taken on the stress of what it means to stand for something. And that is something I can empathize with wholeheartedly. And being that she gives her all to defend everyone, what's a night of letting loose really going to do in the long run?

Besides, there are police officers in Cardinal City. They were doing their jobs long before Penn came along, and they can take care of the city for one night without CC's number one vigilante, right?

I leaned over the bar, pushing my chest out some to get the bartender's attention. I normally prefer to keep a low profile, but I will not have my birthday girl waiting forever to get her first legal shot. Actually, knowing Petite, it might just be her first shot ever. Even more reason not to wait.

I winked at the man behind the counter. The bartender was tall and well-built. He had these muscles that I would have loved to have wrapped around me, but while he was very well-wrapped on the outside, I could tell right away, that he was poorly designed on the inside.

"What can I get you, Gorgeous?"

As I suspected...

"Two shots and keep them coming." I flashed a grin his way.

"You got it." His gaze lingered on me a second longer than it should have as he poured our shots and walked over to a group of girls that he proceeded to flirt with.

"Ooh, Des, was that some sparks I felt?" Petite elbowed me playfully.

I couldn't help but laugh—Penn has a magic way of always making me smile. I handed her a shot of tequila, raising my own in the air. "Non, Petite. That was called skipping the line."

She laughed with me then, clinking our shot glasses, and downing the tequila.

The bartender was certainly trying to earn himself a good tip because within moments, he was pouring us another before he attended to someone else.

"Thank you, barkeep!" Penn's enthusiasm was truly contagious.

Without me even having to encourage her, she took her second shot like she's been doing it for years. Maybe she has done this before. I smirked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt like I should have intervened on Petite's behalf when I noticed she got to shot nine within twenty minutes of us sitting at the bar. I mean, in reality, I am right up there with her—shot-wise—but being that I am Rougarou it takes many, many more shots for me to get tipsy, let alone drunk—my metabolism works at a much faster pace than the birthday girl's fragile human one. But she seemed to be holding up better than I expected.

That is, until she started spinning in her barstool.

Penn giggled like a five-year-old girl before she said in one breath, "Thank-you-so-so-so-so-so-so-much-DES!" She stopped twirling long enough to reach for my arm but missed entirely on the first attempt. When she did manage to grab my arm, she took her other hand and pushed her finger against my nose. "Boop!" she beeped loudly before going for the shot on the bar.