Ron
Right. Change. First he had to figure out how to do it, then he had to go through the process. This was going to hurt.
Well, at least Ron finally had some pants again.
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Pants and shirt and shoes on as needed, walking on two legs, Ron was ready for an evening out at the bar. Sure, his face was still pretty hairy, but that was true before everything got strange anyway. Now it was just a matter of getting all the pesky little revelations out of his head with a nice stout drink! Something from the place down the block from his apartment maybe, since he could trust them to not put anything strange in the stuff. Wouldn't do to try to pay this particular debt back with bad beer or anything, either.
So along he went, keeping close to Annabeth and telling her just enough about the place to get her interested like "seven out of ten bar fights here end in the winner buying everyone a round" and "I have yet to be mugged on my way out. Not like the more common being mugged on the way in, which is why I carry a ... revolver... damn it, I knew we forgot something." You know, the little things like that draw a person's interest to a drinking establishment.
Then they were there. The Red Bear Bar, named for the time an actual bear appeared from the alley next to the place and the bouncer got his face eaten off while stabbing it in the eye. Well, no, it was because the owner thought it was a cool name, but Ron liked to think the story was more interesting.
"Well, here's the place," he said with a grin and a flourish of his arm to the neon sign nestled into an alley between a pair of three story buildings. "Not the fanciest, but it'll certain meet the important points. And the glasses are clean, which is a plus. Since we got here before happy hour, we shouldn't even have to wait."
Ron moved his hand to the door, pushed it in, and let the sound of patronage reach his ears. The creaking of floor boards at a volume level he'd never experienced before, his nose being hit with the stench of fresh and stale beer alike, his eyes picking out the golden droplets drip dropping from the taps across the way at the bar...
Hell, the bouncer at the door? blood and rust, slight favoring of his left side, probably cut himself on something before his shift
He shook his head to clear it until his senses went back down to their usual level.