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old wives' tale || lucky & mulce
by thegirlnamedcrow Thu Sep 17, 2015 9:56 am
She spent a good minute at the replicator, rather annoying the chap in line behind her, but never mind that,
She had it down to two choices. There was the newest addition to their replicators recipe collection, Alpacian Comfort, something that miraculously managed to taste exactly hot chocolate while being exceptionally alcoholic. And then there was the infamous Trogian Whiskey, which they'd picked up on their last supplies run and which, until now, had been the only liquor available to a crew in desperate need of a drink. It burned like the fires of Pompeii on the way down, but it didn't half loosen a gob.
She went with the whiskey. It seemed more his color. Still, she made herself a cup of the Alpacian Comfort for good measure.
She had a feeling she didn't want to be entirely sober hearing this one out.
Moving gingerly through the halls of the ship so as not to spill the drinks, she made her way to her crew mate's quarters.
Bastard would choose the room all the way on the other god damned side of the ship.
When finally she made it, she was proud to say that she'd only spilled about a quarter of the whiskey, and she hadn't spilled any of the Alpacian Comfort. Because she'd just drunk the top few inches of the brew instead.
Now, she could have done the polite thing and knocked, but she had two drinks in her hand. She could have done the slightly less polite thing and simply yelled for him to let her in.
No time for that. These doors were shoddy – apply pressure to the right place and they popped right open.
She took a moment to steady herself, took aim, then kicked the door firmly.
As she walked into the room, her smile shone as brightly as a collapsing star. "Oi, Mulciber. I brought you a drink – " here she waggled the whiskey appealingly (she hoped) " – and so you, my friend, have to talk to me."
She looked around, located the nearest appropriate sitting-surface, and, as one tends to do with those, she sat.
"How does that sound?"
She had it down to two choices. There was the newest addition to their replicators recipe collection, Alpacian Comfort, something that miraculously managed to taste exactly hot chocolate while being exceptionally alcoholic. And then there was the infamous Trogian Whiskey, which they'd picked up on their last supplies run and which, until now, had been the only liquor available to a crew in desperate need of a drink. It burned like the fires of Pompeii on the way down, but it didn't half loosen a gob.
She went with the whiskey. It seemed more his color. Still, she made herself a cup of the Alpacian Comfort for good measure.
She had a feeling she didn't want to be entirely sober hearing this one out.
Moving gingerly through the halls of the ship so as not to spill the drinks, she made her way to her crew mate's quarters.
Bastard would choose the room all the way on the other god damned side of the ship.
When finally she made it, she was proud to say that she'd only spilled about a quarter of the whiskey, and she hadn't spilled any of the Alpacian Comfort. Because she'd just drunk the top few inches of the brew instead.
Now, she could have done the polite thing and knocked, but she had two drinks in her hand. She could have done the slightly less polite thing and simply yelled for him to let her in.
No time for that. These doors were shoddy – apply pressure to the right place and they popped right open.
She took a moment to steady herself, took aim, then kicked the door firmly.
As she walked into the room, her smile shone as brightly as a collapsing star. "Oi, Mulciber. I brought you a drink – " here she waggled the whiskey appealingly (she hoped) " – and so you, my friend, have to talk to me."
She looked around, located the nearest appropriate sitting-surface, and, as one tends to do with those, she sat.
"How does that sound?"
thegirlnamedcrow- Admin
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Join date : 2015-01-31
Age : 31 -
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