Devil's Nest, Monday, September 12, 2022

[texted3times]

Eric came into the bar still looking a little smug from his successful date on Saturday.

Well. "Date."

He slouched into a bar stool and glanced over at Tiny who was sipping something with evident enjoyment. "What are you drinking?"

Tiny rumbled an answer.

"Tino's homemade malort," Eric repeated. "Pass."

The Devil's Nest was open. Don't drink the malort.

Comments

[carbsliftthespirit]

"It tastes right," Raiden said, considering his glass. "I just don't know if it's working yet. It takes a lot of booze to get me drunk anyway. Hi!"

[texted3times]

"Well, fortunately you've come to the right place. We have a lot of booze," Eric said, smirking. "Hi."

[carbsliftthespirit]

"As long as I can skip the malort, I know I've come to the right place," Raiden said, smiling back at him.

He was politely not commenting on what it smelled like.

"Do you stock real blood at all here, or just this stuff?"

[texted3times]

"I have a few in the back," Eric said. "Most people don't come asking, some prefer it fresh from the source--" he waved his hand in a "what can you do" sort of motion. "But I do. Do you have a type preference?"

[carbsliftthespirit]

"As far as blood goes? Not really." As far as not blood went, tall blond vampires were really doing it for him these days...although he also would not be opposed to biting Eric, if that were a thing Eric was willing to allow. "Alcohol doesn't work on my kind without either blood or ambrosia in it," because of reasons, "unless it's absinthe," also because of reasons, "and who wants to sit around drinking absinthe all night? So I was just wondering in case the Tru Blood stuff doesn't turn out to do the trick." He eyed his drink critically. "Like I said, it tastes right, but I'm gonna need about three or four more of these to be able to tell."

[texted3times]

"Well, you're not a poet wasting away in 1800s France, which was the last time absinthe was cool," Eric teased, "so I can see its lack of appeal. Tiny, set this man up with the good stuff."

[carbsliftthespirit]

Raiden laughed. "Nothing about me is wasting away," he agreed. Even if he was constantly hungry for more.

Then he had to rapidly divert his attention to tell Tiny, "No, the good stuff is not--put the malort away, I'm not drinking that."

[texted3times]

"No one is drinking that," Eric declared. "It's more disgusting than grass flavored vodka, which is also around here somewhere."

Tiny Made Some Choices when he ordered.

[carbsliftthespirit]

"Grass-flavored--"

The avatar of Gluttony sat with that one for a few moments, and could only come up with, "But why?"

[texted3times]

"My guesses are boredom or a really boring sadistic streak," Eric said.

[carbsliftthespirit]

"I mean, I would try it," Raiden admitted, "but that's the Gluttony speaking. I'll try anything once."

[texted3times]

Eric smirked at him. "And I do enjoy that quality in you."