milliways_bar | (no subject)

"If you have to ask, I wonder if you'd even be up for it." Oh, SNAP!

"I will have you know that the things that go on in even the most structured of officers' gatherings, which their Captain is frequently obliged to take part in, have given me some practice in such sport." He crosses his arms. "Try me."

Sara orders them nightmares.

Again, not a single cough.

This is no manner of drink he has ever encountered. But... he matches her, smoothly. "Intriguing flavor..."

"It's not as nasty as some variations I've had."

Round two. Robert Frost would sue for copyright infringement.

Good thing Robert Frost's not here. Not to mention what Tolkien would do if he saw his creation in this situation.

Faramir again knocks back the glass and places it on the table. He looks at her smugly.

Her hands aren't even shaking. It's rather premature for him to be smug.

Red Death #2. Narration highly approves of this drink.

The narrative is frightened.

Faramir downs it.

"Where do you get these names from?"

"People name mixed drinks," she says with a shrug. "I'm being nice and staying away from the dirty names."

His smile widens, a touch of mischief.

"Why?"

"I didn't think you'd want to down a cowboy cocksucker or try sex on the beach."

Well, he asked.

...

Prince of Ithilien facepalming.

"I was being nice," she says placidly before ordering one of the aforementioned drinks.

Mmmmm. Smooth.

Very tasty.

"Are you sure you can keep this up?" he asks, out of politeness, really.

"If I pass out, please turn me on my side so I don't choke to death on vomit is all that I ask." But she's nowhere close to that. Her words aren't even slurring.

"I'll remember to do that." Faramir makes no requests as to what to do if HE passes out.

The Steward of Gondor does not pass out.

Yeah. Right.

Pain Killer.

This one Faramir rather obviously cannot drink too fast.

That gets you brainfreeze.

"You do this often?"

"A drinking contest? Once or twice a year. Drinking itself? I do so socially, but I tend not to when I'm alone." She'd rather not return to borderline alcoholism, kthnx.

"I did mean challenging people to drink you under the table." He winks. "Ever tried it with Mark? I still have not met him..."

"Houseplants have better tolerance than he does." She loves him but it is the sad truth. "And no, you're not allowed to humiliate him."

"Sara, you know I wouldn't do that." He grins and sips the drink. There are no coconuts in Middle Earth. He finds he quite enjoys the flavor.

"You, I would trust on that matter." She takes the time to actually savor this round.

So does he, leaning close to her and watching the candle pleasantly.

It's possible he forgets about actually drinking her under the table. This is nicer.

It's not always getting people under the table that is the fun part.