"Oh, right, the way you are now." Bobo pushed the two wineglasses forward, put away the bottle, wiped his hands with a towel, and poked Little Fatty's arm with a finger. "You have a physical body, but no heartbeat or pulse. Can you even drink?"
The moment Little Fatty sat down, Bobo had noticed that he no longer seemed human. His paper-white complexion and his slightly hazy, translucent body both made that clear.
Was he a ghost with a physical form, or an undead corpse whose place in space was unstable?
But Bobo ran a bar, one that served the Mystic Side, and he had traveled all over with Deathstroke. What kind of weird thing had he not seen? This was just a former human who was neither alive nor dead. It was hardly worth being surprised about.
"I don't know. I guess I can?" The wizard named Tias Casridis pursed his lips tightly, picked up the glass in front of him, and poured the brown liquor into his mouth.
The bar remained lively and warm. A beautiful, moving song drifted from the jukebox, one of Bobo's favorite jazz tunes, its husky female vocals full of energy.
Yet Little Fatty remained silent for a long time after drinking. His expression kept changing, as though he had swallowed not liquor but a hodgepodge of kitchen seasonings. Pain and countless other emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession.
"No taste. I can't taste anything." Only after a while did Little Fatty sigh and speak in a deeply mournful voice. "What's the point of living like this?"
Losing one's sense of taste was terrifying. Deathstroke understood that too. Little Fatty's build alone made it obvious that this wizard probably loved good food.
Though judging by his attire, he was probably from the