Your Friday Outtake

Have another Max and Button outtake where they do nothing to move the plot or their subplot or develop character or do anything of worth or note.  I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but let’s look at the glass half full: It’s a blog post:

Max came back to end of the bar where Chloe was sitting, carrying a celebratory beer and a martini with three olives in time to see a drunken stranger come up beside her, put his arm around her, and say, “Honey, you are really cute.” 

“Oh, don’t,” Max said.

“You the boyfriend?” The drunk sized Max up, and since he probably had a hundred pounds on Max, he laughed.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Max sighed and put the drinks down.  “Probably save your worthless life.”

The drunk laughed again and turned back to Chloe, whose eyes were now gleaming with liquored-up homicidal rage.

“Do not call me cute,” Chloe said, as Joyce leaped down from the shelf, and hissed, her red eyes glowing.

“Oh, this is great,” the drunk said.  “Two cats, hissing at me.”

Chloe went for her ankle holster, and Max kicked the drunk in the back of the knee, grabbed his neck as he folded, smashed his forehead into the bar, and then dropped him on the floor.

 “Wow,” Chloe said straightening.  “That was efficient.”

“I’ve been here before with Mammon,” Max said, checking to make sure the drunk wasn’t getting up again any time soon.  “My boss can infuriate anybody.”

Rab came down the bar and leaned over to see the drunk.  “I suppose you had to.”

“He called Chloe cute and and then Joyce got off the shelf.”

“Oh.”  Rab nodded. “Then you had to.   It might be best if you were not here when he came to.”

“Hell, yes.” Max looked at Chloe.  “Come on, drink your olives and I’ll take you to dinner.  I think I can afford the Eurydice Grill.”

Chloe looked down at the drunk.  “I’ll buy. That was really very efficient.”

Max looked at Rab and spread his hands out.  “Who says I don’t have charm?”

“Everybody,” Rab said, and Max laughed and took Chloe away as Joyce jumped down on the drunk, kneaded him with her claws a couple of times, and then headed for the stairs, looking pleased.

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