Something smelled in New York, and it wasn't the bar. The bar was pretty nice, actually. Pretty nice, for a place full of rats.

He'd asked around... kind of. He wasn't a detective any more. He didn't remember being a detective. He didn't have the skills. But he could pretend to have the skills, and fake it until he made it. That had been his life for so many years, it scared him to think of being anything else.

He needed to know, needed to know why it had happened. The freaking de-aging thing. Why, and who had done it to him. His sister had pushed him in the right direction. And what she'd said, he had not liked. Because it sort of shook his world view. Or maybe, it would have shaken his world view if he'd been forty-something and a little bit fat. Old man fat. Beer belly fat. Old, old, and not young. And fat. So, not like him.

... Maybe he was a little critical over what he'd become. Or at least, his perceived image of what it was he had become.

What he'd become, hadn't been great. And he would have to do some real life thinking about what he would do next with his new life. But first, yeah. Rat. He was searching for a rat. Super important. Very important.

Also, he was 20. Not 21. So technically, he was breaking the law to get into the bar. But the driver's license freaking said he was old enough... and he kind of looked like the guy in the pic. If you squinted, and the lighting was bad. And you figured the man in the photograph had been having a bad day. So, he was in a bar, breaking the law to investigate someone who had broken the law. Did two wrongs make a right?

Hell with it, he was getting a drink. Maybe it'd help him focus. Or forget his problems. Were these his problems, even? Who would blame him if he just dropped the whole case and peaced the hell out and moved on with his new life? Got a job at... I don't know, Olive Garden? And went back to... college. And hit on college-aged women who were theoretically half his age.

Don't think about that.

He sat down at the bar, in his red sriracha sauce t-shirt with a rooster on it, dark blue jeans, and black leather jacket. Ran a hand through his unshaven reddish-brown beard, and ordered a drink. Jack and coke. Wasn't his first drink. He'd drunk with friends. Wasn't like he was some pretty boy Lightbringer Law-Abider. He could DRINK A JACK AND COKE. His head hurt. Shut up. This whole day, this whole week. This whole thing. Leaving his head full of contradictions and ideas of who he'd been, and who he was. And what he was and what he'd be and what he'd been and wanted to be, and would be. And wasn't. And-- Christ. Yeah.

"And keep 'em coming." He added, and rubbed at his eyes.

It had been... a hell of a week. Hell of a month. And he'd only been there for the last 24 to 48 hours of it. The rest, he'd all learned of, second-hand. It was enough to make any young man have a headache.

Juniper had, surprisingly, a good week. Nothing terrible had happened of late and she'd been more social in the last few weeks than she could remember being in her whole life, practically. She didn't count the few years she couldn't quite remember fully.

She was hesitant to settle into being comfortable in her new head space though... nothing sucked worse than getting used to something and then having it violently ripped away from you. Something like that could really screw a person up, right? She'd take being called a paranoid parrot anyway, vs letting herself fall victim to the loosey goosey promises of life.

As she slid into a free seat and started un-knotting her newest acquisition (a gray and purple NYU scarf) from around her neck. Once the bartender noticed her she let a lazy smile settle on her lips. "Could I get a Tom Collins, please?"

The guy was cute, in a i'd-rather-be-anywhere-else kind of way.

Actually, once she was able to look around a bit, there were a few people who weren't all that bad looking. It was gonna be a good night.

Heck, even the guy beside her who was rubbing his eyes like he was super hungover was eye catching. She liked his shirt.

"Have you ever had a 'Hair of the Dog' Drink? Might help if you've got a hangover."

Her tall glass was set down on the bar in front of her, which she happily pulled closer and snagged the cherry and orange peel garnish from the top.

"It's a little spicy though, so hopefully you live up to your t-shirt's standards if you try it."

Situational awareness struck him like a parked car. He hadn’t been paying attention to anything but himself, and then suddenly, there it was. He was in a bar, sure. Around other people. People who werent a part of his problem. Who didn’t all happen to be rats, or unimportant background. People who did not need to know about his current source of self-absorption. And some of them were kind of cute.

Or maybe cute wasn’t the appropriate term for the blonde. She was stunning. Pretty enough, the thought brought him out of himself and back into the real world.

There was plenty of time to investigate what had happened to him. Tomorrow. He stuck a pin in all of... that. At that moment, a pretty girl was mildly interested in him. And he wasn’t like his Adult self, fat and dumb. He wouldn’t let himself get fixated on anything. Man, woman, or mystery.

He laughed a low laugh at her joke, and a lopsided smile found its way across his dumb face.

She thought he was hungover? And liked his shirt.

”Good advice,” Ashton said. ”If I was hungover.” His voice had a bit of Irish to it, from his da’. More so than his older self, probably. Maybe he was born with it? Maybe he was playing it up. ”Just a headache. I’m just lucky like that. Been one hell of a week.”

He turned on his stool to face her better, and rested one elbow on the bar. Propped his chin up on the arm.

”My name is Ashton. And for the record, I do like a bit of spice.”

His drink was set down next to him. For the moment, he ignored it. Though he did glance at the barkeep and say his thanks.

Ooo~ He liked spicy. Ashton who liked the spice.

She could jive with that.

"Juniper." She replied, popping the candied cherry into her mouth with a grin. Was that a bit of an accent she heard? Accents were the best. She had a barely there Ohio accent, which just meant that some words sounded a little different coming out. It was about as boring as you could get.

"You know, I head that endorphins are a really great way to get rid of headaches." The orange peel went back into her drink, and was poked down to the bottom with her straw. She sipped from the rim innocently while looking at him through her lashes.

"I could spice up the remainder of your week, if you like. Ever had Tequila furnace shots?" She had. They were delicious in a way that was hard to remember the next morning.

She idly wondered how hard it would be to add that shirt of his to her collection.

Juniper. He liked the name. Liked her response, too.

In the background of the bar, a man with a face like a rat walked past. Like, literally like a rat. Ashton didn't notice.

Endorphins? He recalled what those were. Plenty of ways to rev up endorphins. He was listening more acutely, now.

He had to be honest, though.

"I honestly have not," Ashton said. "There's always a first time though, right?"

From the connection she made, and the name, it sounded pretty spicy. He could guess at the contents. What? Probably some tequila, right? For the tequila part. And the furnace, tabasco sauce... or hot sauce, maybe Frank's. He couldn't have guessed at the salt on the hand, or the lime wedge in the mix. The whole thing... it'd probably make his cheeks hot. Which seemed to be the point.

He held the glass in his hand, and turned it.

"I could get behind a couple of those." He said.

"Oh, my man, let me introduce you to the best shot ever." Heck, she didn't even like spicy things that much, but furnace shots were one of her go-to's when she was drinking with someone else. Hailing the bartender down again, she placed an order for four of the shots; two for each of them.

"There are a few ways to take them." She scooted forward a bit so she could be closer to him, watching as the experienced bartender dabbed a healthy dose of Tabasco sauce into the bottom of each medium sized shot glass, before topping them off with tequila. "Boring people just toss them back real quick to get it over with..." She stole two of the shots as the glasses were push their way, followed by a shaker of salt and a plate with four lime slices on it.

"But another way to do it is you loop arms, sprinkle the salt on your hand, throw the shot back, and then bite the lime."

She positioned herself in an open invitation for him to loop an arm through hers, salt already primed on her hand and her glass in the other, should he want to take her offer.

Once he was ready she licked the salt off of her hand, upended her shot glass and gulped down the liquid fire inside, following swiftly with the lime wedge squeeze between her teeth. It was a pleasant mix of salty, sour, and fire.

His cheeks would't be the only ones burning, apparently. Hers were already turning pleasantly pink.

"The last way to do it is a little more... intimate." Had her grin widened a bit? Maybe just a taaad.

The best shot ever, huh? He smiled at her.

”Bold words.” Ashton chuckled.

Boy, was she excited about showing what she knew. He could appreciate that. He could appreciate a lot of things. Like the bartender making the shots, or the way the tequila splashed over the Tabasco sauce, or the proximity to a pretty girl. Or the enthusiastic commentary.

His poor liquor, it sat all neglected and alone. Maybe he would introduce it to some friends after the shots.

”Loop arms, bite. Got it.” Ashton matched actions to words, by looping arms with Juniper. He’d done the thing with the salt and stuff before assuming the position. Got ready to take the shot, and—

They did it. It was hot. He bit. The flavor combination was pretty damn good. Really cleared the sinuses, too.

As for the last way to take the shot...

He grinned a lopsided grin at her. ”Oh yeah? What’s that way?” Ashton asked.

He kept his cool, under pressure, even though his mouth burned. His dad’s chili would make this look tame. Though, you did not link arms and down an entire bowl in one go. But for the heat component, he’d largely been inoculated.

She had hardly reacted to her shot, possibly because she was used to the heat, or the alcohol. One of the other.

He seemed to be game for the next stage she had mentioned, so she scooted forward s bit more and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Glad to show you~ This time, the salt goes right here, though." She pointed at a little bit of neck she had exposed when moving her hair, and scooted the salt shaker his way. "Unfortunately, you'll have to get it a bit wet for the salt to stick." Her eyes twinkled a little.

"Then, you lick the salt off, drink your shot, and eat your lime. How's that sound?"

She picked up his lime wedge and placed it between her lips, smiling innocently the whole time.

A bartender down the way might had rolled his eyes dramatically, used to her antics by now.

Neck, smooth and fair. He’d have to wet it, would he? How ever would he do that?

We’re her eyes twinkling? She was enjoying this. But then, was there anything wrong with that? Well. Maybe. If one held getting a guy red in the face (from the hot sauce) against someone. Or was not something HE would do. No. To him, she was blameless. But someone else, who had a bit too much pride and ego to be led by a pretty woman like a lamb to the slaughter. Maybe his dumb older self, for instance?

He smirked when she showed her neck, and told him how unfortunate it was that they’d need to dampen said neck in order to get this little truck to work. How unfair, how unfortunate, how did it sound?

”Sounds like a fair excuse to kiss your neck to me,” Ashton said warmly. As she smiled her innocent little smile, he matched action to words and hoped he had not misread the entire situation.

Once her neck was suitably moistened... he held up a nearby salt shaker and juggled it at her. ”Want me to do you? You can do me next.”

He was offering to salt her neck, people. Get your minds out of the gutter! And if she wanted to lick the salt off his neck and take a shot after him, that was perfectly fair. A perfectly balanced arrangement. Like the old saying... you scratch my back, I’ll scratch your itch. Yeah. That was how it went.

Her mind was firmly in the gutter. Currently having a party with clowns and all the alligators flushed down the pipes. "Sounds like it's a plan."

She waited patiently for the salting to happen, and then from there, it was a shot, a lick, the lime, and her turn. For someone who really didn't care for spicy food all that much, the shots hit exactly the right spot.

Or maybe it was the hot dude she was doing the shots with? Who knew!

By the time the shot glasses were empty and their limes were all used up, Juniper was settled onto what the next stage of the plan was. Where was this going to go from here?

"Headache any better?"

The smile spread across his face. ”Headache is feelin’ much better.” Ashton said. ”Thank you.”

He couldn’t even remember what he’d had a headache about, anymore. And if he could, go away, go away. He could quash it.

”So. More drinks? Because I heard about a good tequila chaser. Sangrita. We could play a little with that, or—“ He chuckled. Left her hanging for a moment.

A sangrita was a two part shot. You took a shot of tequila, then follow it with a mixer containing orange juice... or tomato, if you are more into that sort of thing. The taste combination they had going on right now would make that seem more like a Bloody Mary aftertaste to him, which was something. The orange was the original. Orange and lime, with grenadine syrup and a little hot sauce or chili powder for extra kick. He was more interested in the original than the Americanized version with tomato juice. But of course— there’s always another option.

”We could also go do something else. Or. Hold on— you got something.” He reached up to brush at a hair hanging in her eyes, and went in for a kiss.

Mm. More drinks? That was fine by her, though she didn't need it anymore. The last ones had been just spicey enough to get her all warmed up. Or maybe that was just Ashton? Especially when he was apparently leading her exactly in the direction she wanted to go in. ...Oooor?

Something else like, what? Rob a bank? skinny dipping in a park?

She let her eyes close for just a moment as he went to brush a hair away, and smirked a little at the sneaky kiss. Smooth. Really smooth. He tasted like spice and lime and she had absolutely zero complaints as she pressed back into the kiss and invited more.

When the kiss ended she was determined to stay close but pulled back enough so she wasn't breathing in his face.

"I'm up for anything, really. Chesterfield rugby? Fishing for kippers? Forbidden Polka? Hot yoga?"

Huh... she couldn't think of any other fun euphemisms she had heard right now, so those would just have to do.

He didn't have any hair to sensually tuck out of the way, but she was still gonna lean in to kiss him again anyway.

The kiss, was a success. Good. She had no complaints about it, after it was done. No slaps readied, or punches to the face. He had not misread.

Her response only fueled his boldness. Rugby? Fishing? Polka? Hot yoga. Took him till the last two to get that she was teasing, and trying for innuendo. Ashton has never heard the first few, but forbidden polka? Hot yoga? Hot yoga was pretty blatant. He got her drift.

Ashton chuckled, a low warm laugh.
He got ready to say something. Something clever. But then, she leaned closer and kissed him again. And that all fluttered away.

They kissed like that for a few moments. When they finally broke the contact, he smiled at her and rested a hand on her cheek.

”Hot yoga?” He said, teasingly. ”That like Twister, combined with strip poker or something? Heh. Sounds like fun. But no, not that. I was just thinking maybe we could get out of here. I think I’ve got a bottle of jack back home. Or we could pop into a convenience store along the way if there was something in particular you like. This place is nice. But my place has better music.”

Please, let it have better music. And ambience. Not some horse crap garbage rat pack music and Sinatra like some old grandfather time’s collection would have, on Vinyl.

She grinned cheekily. "It would be if I ever played it long enough to get to the end. I tend to get impatient though. A character flaw."

She was definitely for the idea of finding a new place to settle, and hooray! This time she didn't have to fight for it for like a whole ass hour. "I like jack. I'm not too picky, and I'm all for better music, too." Hell, she didn't even need extra booze or music at this point, but apparently she'd found someone who was a bit more classy than the typical hot bar partons, so she wasn't about to try and rain on his parade. Let him do his thing and just enjoy the ride, right?

"Want me to order us a lift, or do you have a ride?"

He liked character flaws.

And leaving, he liked leaving.

One could just order up a lift? He had no idea about modern cab order applications but calling up a company or flagging down a ride seemed to make sense.

Had he driven or walked here?

”A lift is a good idea.” Ashton agreed.

Even if he had, he probably shouldn’t drive them back. Plus, the whole amnesia thing made New York geography a work in progress for his brain.

While she did whatever she needed to do to dial up a lift, Ashton handled the lofty tab. Worth every penny. He was having fun. Plots to find bad guys who deaged people? What were those?

—

A short time later, he found himself getting in the cab with her. He gave the cab driver his address, then made to kiss her while they were transported away.