*He returns to the bar and pulls out a highball, scooping some ice into it, then making his way to Lando again. Holding the glass in one hand, he considers Lando for a moment, then pours from the flask, a dark, brown liquid cascading over ice. Filling just below the brim, he tilts the flask up. The contents of the glass stir themselves as he pockets the flask, then produces a lemon wedge in one hand, squeezing it over the glass.*
They call this an alabama slammer. A little heavier than what you're drinking, but one of my favorites.
no subject
*He returns to the bar and pulls out a highball, scooping some ice into it, then making his way to Lando again. Holding the glass in one hand, he considers Lando for a moment, then pours from the flask, a dark, brown liquid cascading over ice. Filling just below the brim, he tilts the flask up. The contents of the glass stir themselves as he pockets the flask, then produces a lemon wedge in one hand, squeezing it over the glass.*
They call this an alabama slammer. A little heavier than what you're drinking, but one of my favorites.
*He sets the glass down in front of Lando.*