fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Saturday, 17 December

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, 17 December

Bo wasn't going to ask where the little fireplace came from; she was just going to go with it, fish around in her shoulderbag, and find some stockings to hang.

That accomplished, and inspired by her much-appreciated gift from Zoe, she set about concocting a festive Happy Hour special.

Happy There's A Bar Here Again Holidays!

Half-price S'mores Shots (over 21 only):
1 part cake vodka, 1 part marshmallow fluff vodka, 1 part Godiva liqueur.

Half-price S'mores Hot Chocolate:
with whipped cream vodka or non-alcoholic

T'was the season.

[Fa la la la la. Open!]

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Where your bartender's hot chocolate was only a little bit whipped.

This was probably not the place to come when you weren't a fan of the holidays, huh? Audrey was going to deal with it, though, mainly because when she got a look at the sign, the first words out of her mouth were, "How is cake vodka even a thing?"

"I do not know," Bo admitted. "But it's tasty. Not as tasty as the Skittles vodka, but that seemed a little tropically colored for December."

Audrey shook her head. "I'm sorry, I think you just blew my mind. What?"

Obviously she had to get out more.

Just because she hadn't put them in the drink special didn't mean they weren't there. Bo reached down below the bar and started pulling out bottles.

"Lime, cherry, grape.... wait, since when is there raspberry?" Someone remembered a larger range of flavors when the universe got put back together, Bo suspected.

"Where the hell was this when I was in college?" Which was frankly a very good question, even if the fact that it probably hadn't existed then meant that she'd actually graduated from college.

"Being mixed up in somebody's bathtub at the frat house," said the woman who didn't actually go to college, but had fed her way through more than one of those parties. The drunker they were, the less steady she was, but it also made for an easy escape route and nobody remembering what she looked like the morning after. "Want to make up for lost time?" She raised an empty shot glass.

"Why not? Might as well do it for my inner nineteen-year-old," she said with a little smile.

Assuming she had an inner nineteen-year-old, of course.

Bo grinned. "Is your inner nineteen-year-old partial to green, blue, red, purple, or orange?"

"Blue," she decided. "Not that I know what blue's flavor might be, but sometimes you've gotta live dangerously."

"That's the raspberry." Bo eyed the bottle. She was pretty sure they didn't make blue Skittles, but whatever. "So it claims."

Whatever it really tasted like, it was just as blue in the shot glass as it was in the bottle, and it smelled like one of those slushees with the polar bears on the cup.

When the shot was poured, Audrey took the glass and said, "Bottoms up," before downing it.

And then she considered it for a moment, looking really thoughtful. "That really is exactly what I'd expect a blue Skittle to taste like."

"Minus the vodka?" Not that vodka had much of a flavor besides OMGALCOHOL, but... "Actually, that's an invention that's long overdue," Bo decided, on reflection. "Vodka-flavored Skittles."

Audrey had to look amused there. "You try that, and you tell me how it goes."

"I just come up with the brilliant ideas; I don't make the candy." Bo grinned. "Though I guess I could suggest it to the people at Wonka's and see what they say."

"Hopefully nothing like 'This is a lawsuit waiting to happen,'" Audrey decided. "And this is where I'd bring the subject back around to the cake vodka but that can't go well with raspberry."

"Maybe real raspberry, like a coffeecake." For someone who partook pretty light, Bo thought way too much about booze. "But not raspberry slushee flavor," she agreed. "You should try the marshmallow fluff, though. That really does taste like you just stuck your finger into that jar in the cupboard that your mom said to stay the heck out of unless there were yams on the table. ...Or maybe that was just me."

"I know I didn't exactly have that," she admitted. "I don't even think I've had marshmallow fluff."

Yes, Audrey'd had a seriously deprived childhood.

One marshmallow fluff shooter, coming up. "On the house, because you had a seriously deprived childhood."

"I hadn't noticed," Audrey said dryly. "And this makes you my favorite bartender tonight."

"If you end up talking to my boss, your favorite bartender tonight's name is Bo, and she didn't give you free drinks." Though that did beg the question. "How many bartenders have you seen tonight?"

"One," she admitted. Hi, Bo! "Details."

"Do I have to give up on being called a man if I drink the special?" Guy asked rather than say something like 'hi'.

"There's three kinds of booze in it and only one of them's chocolate," Bo replied. "Also it doesn't end in 'tini.' I think you're safe."

"I'll chase it with a shot to be on the safe side," Guy decided.

"You'll chase your shot with a shot. Awesome." Bo nodded and pulled out the Jamison's. "The only way you could actually make that more manly would be to drink it out of a cheerleader's navel."

Guy gave her a hopeful grin. Because she mentioned it.

"My parents wouldn't let me join the pom-pom squad," said the she in question, with a smirk. "The skirts were too short."

Unlike, say, the one she was wearing now. Yes.

"I was on the football team," Guy replied, tilting his head to admire said skirt. "If that helps get you in the mood for body shots."

"I was in 4-H and FFA," Bo answered, pouring both of the requested shots. Into glasses, Guy. "Thinking about high school mostly gets me in the mood for raising sheep." No, it got her in the mood to be maudlin about guys with goatees and roomy back seats, but she'd go with the lie; it was a lot more cheerful.

Heartbreaker!

"Where the hell did you grow up?"

"Farmville; where else?" It wasn't really called that, but it might as well have been.

"Farmville, Middle of Nowhere?" he guessed, eyeing the first shot before downing it.

"Naah. Nowhere-adjacent. We lived in an unincorporated area." Bo eyed the downing. "Manly enough, or was there too much cake?"

Guy glanced down at himself to check. "Not turnin' violet, so I think it's safe."

Bo glanced down too, and gave an exaggerated sigh. "No thong. No heels. Disappointment, Gardner. Disappointment."

Where the DJ was feeling festive as well, but...

Well, let's just say Bo admired his holiday spirit, but questioned his sense of propriety.

When the succubus questions that? It might be time for a review of your CD collection.

[In no way are any of these songs SFW. Or taste.]

Where there might be a vampire old enough to remember when mistletoe was more about shooting Baldr's eyes out, less about the kissyface.

Edited 2011-12-18 00:51 (UTC)

For the record, the cake vodka doesn't taste anything like cake, but it was still tasty in my skinny peppermint mocha.

The Fluff, on the other hand? ajsdhlksjdhlksdh. Wow.

Gasp! Your cake vodka was a lie!

Well, it is delicious and moist. It just tastes... vaguely vanilla. Which I could've got for cheaper, or skipped entirely and bought the whipped cream instead.

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, 17 December

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