#meanwhile qimir asks what flavors of smirnoff ice they have

[septemberlikeastorm]

this man said "i need a drink" & proceeded to craft the the most sex & the city-coded poison cocktail ever, so from cascade ocean wave blues come i give you:

Osha ducks her head to deposit the straw back in her glass, and he very carefully stores away the image of the pink flash of her tongue. “I suppose you should show off a little, just to salvage your supposedly fearsome reputation, since you’re a coward who refuses to do shots with me.”

He’d gotten a scant pour of liquor, and nurses it like a grudge. “I’ve learned better,” he tells her while wiping his hands off, “than to let my guard down around others.”

She regards him in silence, clearly trying to gauge whether his even tone is one of mild reproach.

It’s not—she is perfectly safe to let her guard down precisely because he is there to guard her—and so he adds gently, “I also don’t like straight liquor, but the only mixers they have are dishwater and cooking oil, and I figure I’m consuming enough oil as it is.” To punctuate his point, he offers her a lump of unidentifiable fried food.

 “I told you, no way am I eating that, it’s as greasy as you were back in that apothecary on Olega.”

“Greasy is a strong word. I was going for more of a windswept, ruggedly handsome look.” He fights not to smile at the face she makes, and allows, “I may have overemphasized the rugged aspect.”

“You were gross,” she informs him with what he feels is entirely too much glee, kicking her dangling feet and taking another long sip of her drink, slurping when she gets down to the dregs. It shouldn’t be endearing.

It is.