A witch's brew! (Pink Trigger)

Beatrice stepped off the stage, then walked in bare feet across the floor to a nearby dresser. "I have already appealed to your greed and your lust, Battler, and yet you still refuse to acknowledge me as a witch! Even though that's such a teensy little thing, you act like I am asking you to die for me! No matter. I shall tempt you with the third great vice of a crude man such as yourself." Still facing him, the young woman pulled out the sliding drawer beside her. Something rolled with a "clink," and she quickly made that mystery clear as she pulled what could only be a wine bottle from inside. "Alcohoool!" she announced in a sing-song voice, holding the glass surface of the container against her cheek and beaming. "I hear Kinzo is especially weak to this vice as of late. Or are you possibly going to complain that neither of us is twenty...? I'm over a thousand, you knoow? I'm old enough for both of us, kihihiheh!"

"Where I come from, I'm nobody's boy scout." Battler rose from his seat and made his way over. "The old bastard isn't either, so, ever since I re-joined the family, he's had plenty of chances to leave this bad impression on his poor kid, don't worry. Oh! I bet this is a good vintage, too! When you mentioned Granddad, I was picturing that rancid green stuff-"

"Do not even joke about it! It is embalming fluid," Beatrice joked. "That old geezer used to have taste in things, if you can believe it..."

Intentionally or not, Beatrice gave a nice show of her healthy, panty-clad ass as she bent down for the low shelf, opening both halves of a swinging door and pulling a pair of wine glasses out.

Battler was watching with his eyes only, keeping his head coolly turned away to allow himself to avert his gaze quickly, should he be caught. He cleared his throat to point out his hostess's mistake.

"O-oh. Hahaha," she laughed absently, pulling out a third glass for the third wheel, me. I approached, giving Battler a silent nod that he was free to interpret as either "thanks" or "get a load of this show" as he liked. Once all three of us were there, Beatrice turned that sunny smile on Battler again and used a corkscrew to pop the bottle. "Ho! A celebration, then! Let us begin festivities to make that inflexible human a bit more charitable!" I wondered what it meant that she seemed to have more skill popping the cork than properly decanting the wine, some of which splashed on the dresser in her excitement. "First, let us toast: to Hip! Without him, this night would not have been possible."

To my surprise, she held her glass up cordially to me. Battler took a second, probably trying to remember who the weird name "Hip" even belonged to before awkwardly joining in as well. I clinked my glass with those belonging to the characters I loved, then drank... It was pretty good! Battler might have been more of a breast sommelier than an actual one, but he must know at least enough about vintages.

Beatrice finished hers fastest of all of us, giving a satisfied sigh. "Ah, aged things are truly the best and most beautiful, aren't they? Let us toast thousand-year-old witches, such as myself! To me, the Golden Witch, Beatrice!" She looked at Battler expectantly, wondering if he'd go with the flow.

"Yeah! To Beatrice, the insane alcoholic, and to thousand-year-old witches, right out of Maria's comic books!"

Beatrice gave a pouty "hmph," but didn't let it stop her drink. With just a couple, I already felt a new heat in the room, but there was at least one more toast. "And now, let us toast Ushiromiya Battler, son of Rudolf and Asumu, and the lowest, most shameful dregs of the Ushiromiya family! Kyeheheh! Without him, truly, none of this would have been possible." In spite of her taunts, she gave him what looked like a genuine smile. The three of us gave another unlikely toast and drank again.

Battler laughed for a while... before suddenly spitting, wiping at his mouth. "Oh damn. Oh dammit! I totally turned off my brain! Couldn't this shit be poisoned?!"

"And how would I poison the shit that was in the bottle without poisoning myself? Oh, allow me to answer: my magic can instantly plant venom in any shitty beverage I please with a click of my heels!"

"No, no! Ah, it's useless, it's all useless!" Battler laughed along with Beatrice as they made their way back to the stage and sat on the edge, Beatrice topping off their glasses irresponsibly as soon as they finished. "It was the glass! You knew which one was mine, and you laced the rim with arsenic!"

...

The night continued in a blur. There was a strip-show, I remember this much. I clearly remember the image of Beatrice, cackling and snorting in an undignified way as she spun clumsily around the pole she'd worked skillfully earlier that night, posing riddles to Battler that she didn't remember the answer to and laughing at his nonsense responses. I remember Beatrice carelessly repeating the answers to some important riddles, too, although I confess I can't remember what they were. Then I remember Battler working the pole in his boxer shorts, Beatrice whistling at his muscular young body and clapping to egg him on. I definitely remember them making out a couple of times, then busting out in another laughing fit like it had been a joke...

My eyes shut...

And when they opened, they happened to be looking at my watch...

11: 58. Oh... Uh-oh...

My speech was slurred and my legs felt like lead, but I tried to trudge over where Beatrice and Battler had fallen asleep on the stage, sprawled out. If Rudolf was a more caring parent, he'd definitely be searching all over the mansion for Battler by this point. That didn't matter right now. What was important...

Be...atrice... I called out with a dry throat. Beatrice! Make him... say it...

To my delight, Beatrice's bleary eyes cracked open, a half-cocked grin forming on her face. "H-hey... Battler... Am I... a witch...?"

There was no response. The man snored loudly, but finally sputtered to life when Beatrice gave him a rough shake. "Ah! Ahuh... Wuh...?"

"Battler... Say it! There's no more time... Am I... a witch?"

"Oh, that... Ihi. Uh... I guess it's-"

"TIIIIIIME!!" An obnoxious voice interrupted him.

... Instead of Beatrice's moment of triumph, I was witnessing a red curtain. I was still witnessing it sideways, as I'd slumped onto the floor, unable to walk. I saw the red curtain fall around the stage and encompass the two drunkards who'd been muttering on it, and then, slowly, lift into the air... and begin to compress...

My eyes spinning, I followed the thread from the top of that bundle at the ceiling, all the way to the one holding it taut with her golden staff. Ah, I was so drunk, I was seeing double... It was another Beatrice, but smaller. She was turning a wineglass casually in her free-hand, glaring at it with a wide frown beneath her orange bangs. "Ah... You didn't even save any as tribute for the witch? You could have at least tried to beg for your miserable life, Player. Weeell... Luckily, I know a neat trick to get some any time I want!"

The witch left her staff magically pulling her catch tighter and tighter while sauntering over to me with swishes of her long, purple skirt. In her hands, she held a corkscrew, and when my eyes fell upon it, my bleary vision caught her grin growing inhumanly wide. "I'm an eternally young witch now, okay? Don't tell anyone I was drinking at the age of eighteen, okaaay? Uhuehuehuehahahahahaha!!"

... I probably did have enough wine in me to get a full glass.