Caritas, Sunday

[suitably_heroic]

There hadn't been any missions worth talking about last week. Just a long slog through another diplomatic function, and then Mira's old Padawan had found him and the whole thing had gone downhill.

In short, Atton wasn't having a great week. He sat down behind the bar after putting up a WHISKEY COCKTAIL NIGHT sign by the door.

Half an hour in, he was so desperately in need of something mind-killing to do that he started to sort the different whiskeys by label color.

[[ open ]]

Comments

[biotic_psychotic]

"That's a shame," Jack drawled, "cuz here I was, dead fucking curious what new cocktail you were working on. The bartenders here are really goddamn boring." She spared one a glance, eyed him up, shook her head, "Not bad if you like 'em bleached, but they're not you."

They were polite and cheerful, Atton. Save her.

[suitably_heroic]

"Too bad, you're missing whiskey cocktail night," Atton drawled, looking at the empty bar. "You and everybody else on the island."

[biotic_psychotic]

"I'm having a whiskey..cocktail.. thing," Jack frowned at her glass, "It was supposed to be a whiskey sour but it has motherfucking cranberries.."

A polite and helpful interruption from the bartender.

"..Oh are they?" Jack cooed at him in a voice dripping the sweetest of poisons, "I'm so sorry. Atton, the fucking things are lingonberries. Which, lemme tell you, are cranberries gone small and pretentious."

Another polite and helpful interruption.

".. Hey, buddy, you know what? See that dark-haired asshole at the other end of the bar? Go tell that guy. He wants to know all about lingonberries, I promise. He enjoys painfully earnest people. They make his day. Go make a friend and leave me to my conversation with a real bartender who's on an entirely different fucking continent, ok? That'd be great, super helpful, fucking bye."

As he walked toward Kaidan, Jack made a noise. "Lingonberries. In a whiskey sour. Who does this?"