Glenn felt very out of place.

He was wearing color, for one thing. The only black he had was a small stripe running down the side of either sleeve. Other that that, the shirt was a green button-up, blue jeans, and his precious shoes. Shoved under the table was a jacket, red and white, which stuck out like a sore thumb. The poor guy was trying his best to hide it. Having been mistaken for considerably younger than he is by the bouncer was not a good way to start the evening. How young the man thought Glenn was, we won't say.

The night had perked up a bit when he found someone else who looked as out of place as him. It was a young woman from Mexico, visting her family here in the city. They'd spoken for a while (in spanish, since her "english was nor so good"), but then she had to leave.

Now, Glenn was very close to raving drunk. Every few moments he'd break out in foreign songs he didn't know he knew. Had he been sober, Glenn probably would have wondered about that.

Even this drunk, however, he still felt out of place.

At least he was having a good time singing in finnish (and chinese, and french, and danish...).

Warren sat not too far away, doing his best not to stare, his dark blue eyes focused on the glass of beer that sat relatively untouched on the table in front of him. Being an english teacher, he was vaugely interested in the fact that this man, who appeared to be well and truely drunk was singing in several foriegn languages. He risked a glance up to look over the man, who had dressed to stand out from the crowd, whether this was intentional or not. Warren himself was wearing black pants, overshirt and tie over a dark blue undershirt, having come here almost straight from the college.

Warren, unknown to Glenn, was also feeling out of place. He had come here on recomendation from a colleague, a younger man who had a penchant for nightclubs like this Warren gathered. He, however, was not suited to such places, and the loud music was beggining to give him a headache.

He glanced at the man once again, before making a descision based mainly on boredom and the need for some conversation. He stood up taking his beer with him, and crossed to where the man sat singing again (from what Warren could hear in Finnish), and pulled out a chair.

'Mind if I sit?' he asked, having to shout slightly over both the music and the man's own singing.

Glenn paused in his song for a moment, assessing the person. Then he gave a drunken smile while trying to kick a chair and for the man.

His legs were too short, so he played it off like he was just swinging his legs.

"Sure!" he said, thankfully in english. "The more the --" he paused to put a hand over his mouth. A few seconds passed, and he swallowed with a grimace. "-- merrier!"

Warren watched him for a moment before sitting down on the offered chair. He brushed away a wayward strand of hair before offering his hand to the man.

'I'm Warren,' he said amiably.

"I'm Glenn," the miniature man replied. He took another drink, his movements very childlike now.

It was hard not to fall into that kind of behavior pattern when you were treated that way all the time.

He then said something in what was possibly chinese, looking expectantly at Warren.

It was only then Warren noticed the rather small size of the man he sat across from (Warren had never been acused of being particularly observant). He stared for no more than a split second, deciding not to comment. Instead he changed the subject to the other obvious topic of conversation (He decided to ignore the comment in Chinese).

'Your very.....,' Warren hesitated for a second, 'Good with languages.' Warren had never seen a drunk man speak in so many different languages before. He was not sure whether this was a testiment to Glenn's skill or merely a sign of the drunkenness.

Glenn stared at Warren as if he had no idea what was just said. Then, slowly, a look of understanding crossed his face. This is possibly because he was thinking in a different language at the time. Glenn took a moment, cleared his throat, then spoke.

"I am?" Sure he was, Glenn was a linguist. That's what he went to school for. Nevermind his freakishly amazing language skills, or the fact that he was singing in langauges he had never seen before.

"Well, you're very good at... um... compliments." He felt there was a return comment needed.

Warren digested this comment for a moment, before speaking again.

'Umm, thank you.' He let the silence go for a moment. He had forgotten the difficulties of talking to a drunken man.

'So what are you doing here?' he said finally.

"Getting drunk."

Glenn thought that was very obvious.

"Whaddabout you?"

Warren glanced at his still full beer before looking back up.

'Attempting to get drunk,' he replied, laughing slightly, 'I've never been particularly good at it personally. You, however, seem to be much better at it."

"Thank you." It sounded like a compliment, at least.

"It'll be easier if you drink, though," Glenn said in an innocent tone. He was just trying to be helpful.

Warren grinned and leaned back in the chair.

'I've heard that,' he said. With that he picked up the beer and took a large swig- this didn't end well, though, as part of it went down his woiindpipe, leaving the man coughing and spluttering- definitely not the manly act he was going for.

Glenn let out a giggle very unbecoming of an adult. Too bad.

"Hee, you're supposed to breathe." He took a drink of his own, smacking his lips and blinking furiously to clear his eyes. Being so small had the drawback of low alcohol tolerance. He was probably near his limit now. "And swallow."

It was only after the giggle that Warren really noticed Glenns size, or lack of. It was probably the eyes that were the most notable, as they seemed to take up more of the head than usual. His whole face appeared disproportionate, and strangely childish. It was at that moment Warren realised he had been staring. He quickly took another gulp of his beer, this time breathing and swallowing as ordered.

"Somefin' in my teeth?" Glenn asked, sticking a finger in his mouth to dislodge whatever Warren was looking at.

((blershort, and I think I'll have him throw up on Warren to give a nice ending here soon...))