milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Lilly is not sulking. Mature dead women of twenty whatever who have stopped counting birthdays because hi, dead, do not sulk.

She might have a back booth, a raspberry vodka and ginger ale and a slightly pouty expression, but it's existentially pouty. After all, when one of your first bar BFFs and one of your first bar boyfriends have just ditched you for heaven, existential pouting is totally appropriate.

It just also sucks.

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He tilted his head, brow arching slightly, he looked rather like a curious puppy, really, "And how large of a bottle are you working through this evening?"

"Medium," Lilly says. "This isn't so much a crisis as... well. An ongoing condition."

Aka, being dead and a bit stuck.

He could relate to the stuck at the moment, not so much the being dead.

In fact, he was doing his best not to think about that part, "Ah, those are the sort that learn to swim if you try too hard to drown them."

"...okay, that might be right, but it's definitely not helpful."

He gets a sigh and a grudging smile.

"I promise just to get them fairly damp. How's that?"

He nodded, smile gone crooked once more, "I wasn't suggesting you do anything different." A shrug, "Just that a lovely young woman such as yourself shouldn't have to resort to that much alcohol. Save the vices like that for the bitter old women who haven't gotten any for some time."

Lilly wonders if she should point out how close she is to a bitter old women who hasn't gotten any in some time, but decides to preserve her mystique.

"If you insist."

She shrugs.

"I probably have enough vices anyway."

He tilted his head then, brow creasing once more, "Oh? I can't imagine what for. A young woman of your means shouldn't need more than one or two."

"Need? No."

Lilly smiles.

"Enjoy? Well, that's a whole other story."

He laughed then, shaking his head, "Ah-ha yes, yes it is. Changes the whole perspective."

Another headshake, "You should have more vices you enjoy and none that you need."

"That, I can drink to."

Lilly lifts her glass and takes a long swallow.

"Seriously, this is one of my tastiest vices. Raspberry and ginger ale, yum."

His head tilted, brow creasing slightly once more, the puzzled kitten look was back, "That has ginger ale in it?"

You'll have to forgive the boy, he's used to the kind with steeped shaved ginger that's all full of floaty bits and little, if any, carbonation.

"Oh yeah," Lilly says.

"Ginger ale from my time, anyway."

She glances at him, curious.

"Was ginger ale different in the past? I don't know much about the evolution of non-alcoholic beverages."

He laughed softly at that, nodding, "I suppose it has changed, the way I've always had it was with ginger syrup, fresh grated ginger, cane sugar and water, boiled like any other syrup, and then mixed slowly with mineral water for the bubbles."

He shrugged, "Sometimes it's used in cocktails as well, or with lemon."

"Whoa."

Lilly looks impressed.

"That sounds really... gingery. And actually more tasty than mine, maybe. I'll have to try that in a drink sometime."

Another warm smile, nodding, "I'm quite sure that Bar could make some, she seems to be able to do anything else easily enough."

"That she can," Lilly says fondly.

"Bar's pretty awesome, really. You just have to remember that she's got a sense of humor and also likes exotic wood oil rubdowns and you'll be fine."

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