(no subject)

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

Specials.
Flaming Blow Job.
Flaming Blue.
Flaming Confederate.

Atton likes drinks that involve burning.

Anyway, he's behind the bar, cleaning glasses while he waits for potential customers. He has a little blowtorch all ready.

Comments

[notablueblood.livejournal.com]

"Tell me, what's a flaming blow job?"

After all, he was told his first drink is free.

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

Atton gives Johnny a long look. He's not mistaking him for Will (different hair, for a start, and he smells different and walks differently), but the resemblance amuses him.
"Hey, s'Will Mark II. The Flaming Blow Job is a drink, that burns. And then you drink it, and it still burns, which probably explains why it isn't popular."

[notablueblood.livejournal.com]

He laughs a bit, and makes a little face at the Will reference -- he's bound to run into this guy at some point or another.

"Don't see why that wouldn't be popular, then. I'll have one of those."

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

Atton mixes up the drink, sets it alight and slides it over.

"What's your name?"

[notablueblood.livejournal.com]

"Max."

It's easy, now.

"Max Campion."

He watches the flames burn, and there's a small smile on his face as they die out and he takes a sip.

Then the smile's not really there anymore.

"You?" He coughs out.

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings, Atton Rand," Teja says, turning up by the bar.

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"Hey, Tejman."

[ostro_goth]

This amuses Teja. "What use is an abbreviation that is longer than the original?"

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"Style. Speaking of which, I have an alarm and a sonic-gun for you."

[ostro_goth]

"I was going to ask about those," Teja says, "when I had a drink. Which I was going to let you properly burn up, this time."

[undignified]

"Why do you have a blowtorch?"

Wes is terrified. Or amused. They might be the same thing.

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"For burning stuff!" Cheerfully.

[undignified]

Wes covers his hair with a hand. Just in case.

"Did people sign the right release forms for this?"

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"What release forms?"

[undignified]

"You know, the ones where if you blow yourself up, I get your stuff."

What? It makes sense.

[hopefulpoet.livejournal.com]

Christian knows he has a problem.

Well, he has several problems, actually, but visiting the bar almost every night is one of them.

Drink to remember, drink to forget...

He looks at the specials and asks the person tending this evening, "What's in a 'Flaming Confederate'?"

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"Fire, mostly. Also, alcohol."

[hopefulpoet.livejournal.com]

He gives the man a sideways look. "No, really? I wouldn't have thought that at all, what with the word 'flaming' in use and this being a bar."

He sighs and sits down. "I'll have one of those, please."

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"Annoying me with sarcasm makes drinks double in price." Atton says, brightly, mixing the drink (though possibly it shouldn't have chilli peppers in it), setting it alight and sliding it over.

[hopefulpoet.livejournal.com]

Christian puts his elbows on the bar and head in his hands.

"Sorry. Another bad day in paradise."

He picks up the drink, looks suspiciously at the things floating in it, and raises his eyebrows. "Thank you," he says, and takes a sip.

When he spits it back up, most of it returns to the glass.

"Oh, that's flaming..."

[mycursedface]

"What's that?" She's pointing at the blowtorch.

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"A burnifyer."

[mycursedface]

"For sitting the drinks on fire?"

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"Indeed."

[mycursedface]

"Why?"