Yup.
Amusing thought.
Chink. Tinkle. Ker-klunk.
"Another?"
Raised arm.
"Another."
"Oi, two more!" a call through the thong of other patrons.
Somehow, when he'd been ordered to search the city for other Servants and their Masters, he'd not expected to end up in a situation in any way reminiscent of this one.
Slurp.
But the beer was good, and the single malt was better, and frankly it had been far too long since he'd had either to care about the inevitable fallout.
The runt was matching him drink for drink, though it probably had something to do with the fact he'd mentioned about alcohol no longer working. Not that it did much to him anymore either. Just gave him a bit of a buzz, these modern spirits did.
How could a good Irish boy get properly plastered out of his mind on this watered down piss. Admittedly, it was decently tasting watered down piss, but still ...
And why the hell was the thing the runt was nursing called an 'Irish' coffee anyway?
Eh. Times changed. Who could figure whichever way they'd go?
They drank the drinks.
"So, go outside and try and kill one another like civilized people?" the runt asked. It was refreshing to be able to speak in even the butchered approximation of his old tongue that this English language had become, rather than whatever it was these Nihongese used.
Cu Chullain considered, shrugged. "Nae, night's young yet, and there's still spirits here I've not touched."
"Fair enough, guv. Your turn, I think."
"Aye," the Hound of Ulster nodded, and raised the empty mug. "Another two!"
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
Amusing thought.
Chink. Tinkle. Ker-klunk.
"Another?"
Raised arm.
"Another."
"Oi, two more!" a call through the thong of other patrons.
Somehow, when he'd been ordered to search the city for other Servants and their Masters, he'd not expected to end up in a situation in any way reminiscent of this one.
Slurp.
But the beer was good, and the single malt was better, and frankly it had been far too long since he'd had either to care about the inevitable fallout.
The runt was matching him drink for drink, though it probably had something to do with the fact he'd mentioned about alcohol no longer working. Not that it did much to him anymore either. Just gave him a bit of a buzz, these modern spirits did.
How could a good Irish boy get properly plastered out of his mind on this watered down piss. Admittedly, it was decently tasting watered down piss, but still ...
And why the hell was the thing the runt was nursing called an 'Irish' coffee anyway?
Eh. Times changed. Who could figure whichever way they'd go?
They drank the drinks.
"So, go outside and try and kill one another like civilized people?" the runt asked. It was refreshing to be able to speak in even the butchered approximation of his old tongue that this English language had become, rather than whatever it was these Nihongese used.
Cu Chullain considered, shrugged. "Nae, night's young yet, and there's still spirits here I've not touched."
"Fair enough, guv. Your turn, I think."
"Aye," the Hound of Ulster nodded, and raised the empty mug. "Another two!"
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm