Pike was on his last nerve. Literally his last. These idiots had no clue how close to an early grave they were, and the only thing standing between them and certain death for most of the day had been his flask. The first little bit was fine, just lots of stupid, predictable Luke Perry jokes, but then like a hive mind they all seemed to seize on the Benny issue. He still remembered the first one that asked. He'd entered the repair bay while Pike had been taking inventory of some spare pipes. Not only had the guy snuck up on him, which agitated Pike's paranoid survival instincts, but he'd snuck up on him and asked whether he felt guilty about being too drunk to help Benny. The next thing Pike knew, he was halfway turned around with the pipe in a white-knuckled grip, very much looking forward to bashing the bastard's face in.
Things were less pleasant, after that.
He'd checked himself. Pike wasn't sure if the man saw what he'd almost done, but when Pike told him to get out he scurried like a frightened mouse so he figured it was a good bet. He didn't particularly care. The moron had the temerity to ask that question, he deserved to have a little fear put in him. Apparently, the idiot hadn't realized that this was a zoo, and that Pike was not one of the calm animals you could poke with a stick.
He clocked out at precisely the time he was supposed to, not a minute earlier but not a second later, and spent the rest of the day growling his way from one autograph to another. He didn't answer any questions. What exactly could he safely answer? No way was he telling some stranger that was paying to see some kidnappees about his life, and he certainly wasn't going to discuss his decision in Vegas with them, either. Benny was a terrible subject for even friends to bring up, and right now Pike wasn't really sure if he even had any of those.
Talking with the staff was a comfort, during the perfect storm of pure idiocy that was the guests. It said something about how desperate he was for intelligent conversation that he'd even attempted to talk to the vampire responsible for LA being sent to hell. So when Heather made the offer of drinks, there was no way in hell Pike was refusing. Conversation with someone that wasn't a creepy freak way too interested in his life, plus alcohol? Sex with a Greek goddess would not have been as attractive an offer to Pike, right now.
Pike was dressed in his typical ensemble. Dark shirt, the faded jeans he'd worn to work today with that one slightly torn knee, his motorcycle boots, and his jacket. He felt naked without his weapons, but he didn't think the manager was going to let him have butterfly swords or axes or anything right now. Even Pike would admit that they would very likely end up being used on the guests.
His entire body was tensed, his jaw set and his lips pressed together in an angry line. He came up short at the front door, then knocked sharply three times. He didn't call out. The entire point of this little operation was to stay the hell away from the guests. No reason to send up the equivalent of a verbal flare.