George perched on the edge of the stool between two couples. He looked at the dance floor--filled with same-sex couples. Chibodee returned with their drinks.

"How did you convince me to come here again?" George demanded.

Chibodee laughed. "Relax, man! Have some fun!"

"Not in a gay bar."

"Geeze! We're only here to discover your innner gayness, that's all."

"I'm straight."

"You only say that."

"Chibodee, I. Am. Straight."

"Whatever you say, Young Master."

George hated that knowing smirk. "Why do you insist I'm gay?!"

"Look at you," Chibodee cried. "You have long, red hair, deep, violet eyes, clothes so tight a model would scream--"

"My clothes are not tight."

"Tight enough to accent your figure nicely," Chibodee said, cast a knowing eye over George and added, "if I do say so myself."

George glowered and took a sip of his drink.

"And you're obsessed with roses! You're the only guy I know--and hell, I've known a lot, straight and gay--that likes roses like you do. I mean--Gundam Rose? How much more obvious can you get?"

"Chibodee, shut up."

"Oh my god, the Perfect Prince swore!" Chibodee said in mock amazement.

"Chibodee, shut up."

"Or what? You'll poke me to death?"

"Just because I'm a master fencer doesn't mean I can't fistfight."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you knock me down."

"You would?"

"Try me."

George kicked Chibodee's stool out from under him.

"HEY!" Chibodee lay sprawled out on the floor. "That was a cheap trick!"

George only stared down mildly.

"No violence in my bar!" the bartender called, stomping over. "If you wanna fight, go outside!"

"I'm sorry, monsieur," George said, all innocence. "My friend slipped."

"Hn," the bartender said, disbelieving. "It better stay that way."

"Of course, monsieur."

Chibodee righted his stool and sat down. "Ass."

George sipped from his drink.

"Prissy ass."

"Barbarian."

"Prissy gay ass."

George glared, looking Chibodee straight in the eye. "I am not gay!"

"Denial isn't a river in Egypt."

"I am not in denial. I'm not gay."

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step to solving the problem."

"I do not have a problem!"

"So you say."

George stood up and stormed from the bar.

When he opened the door, he was met with a whirlwind of words and flashes of lights. Squinting, he made out a mob of reporters. He uttered the only thing that could rightfully describe his situation: "Shit."

---

The next morning, the headline on every newspaper across Neo-America: "George de Sand Found in Gay Bar!" The day after that, "Jack of Diamonds Thought Homosexual". Or "Savior of the World: Gay?"

Needless to say, George never went out with Chibodee to a bar--any bar--again.