9th widows web - Dictated

[well_assembled]

Ok, short and sweet, this has been a week that deserves drinking.

I have two bottles of Glenfiddich 30 Year Old single malt Scotch.

I don't want to drink it alone.

If your interested, let me know.

Comments

Dictated

[sandoval]

... ah, you were that woman from the drinking game! Hello again!

What is a "Scotch"? It sounds interesting, though! Is Glenfiddich where it's from?

[samson]

That's really not a bad idea.

[compromisedarrow]

You don't need to ask me twice. I think I'm starting to become an alcoholic.

[originalcopy]

[This has been exactly the kind of week that makes him wish he could just get drunk and forget about shit.]

Tempting as that is, I think I have to pass this time.

But have one for me.

[whichwayyoulean]

As fun as that sounds, I remember Drunk Nat from last time, so I'm going to go with a 'no' on that.

Dictated

[well_assembled]

Right, Hi.

It's an intoxicant, some of the best ever made in my opinion. Glenfiddich is an old word, something about deer in a field or something, my Gaelic isn't great. But it's from a small city in Scotland from my home world. Brews from there are often called Scotch for that reason.

[well_assembled]

So get up to 2007 before my generosity runs out.

[well_assembled]

It's not a habit, it's just to take the edge off. Suck it up Barton.

[well_assembled]

Your loss. I'll have a couple.

So.. how are you doing after...everything?

[well_assembled]

I didn't....

Oh, that. Sorry about that. I'll try to avoid your tower from now on.

[originalcopy]

Heh, not too many though. I don't want to have to go pick you up off any floors.

I'm dealing. At least I can see now.

You?

[well_assembled]

I can hold my liquor fine, and two bottles is not nearly enough to get me that drunk.

Good.

I'm always fine, it's my natural state of being.

[whichwayyoulean]

Hey, it's okay. At least you didn't throw up on anything.

[originalcopy]

[uh huh, sure.]

Good.

[well_assembled]

So we're done.

[well_assembled]

Not since I was 12.

[samson]

Yes, ma'am.

[And he does!! There is a knock on the door after a few minutes.]

[well_assembled]

[She opened the door and looked..up...waaay the hell up at him. Jesus, what the hell was this guy? Another norse god?]

You must be Brock, I'm Natasha. You made good time.

[She left the door open for him to see himself in and she was already pouring three fingers in a glass for them both.]

[originalcopy]

I guess so.

[He's not going to push. If she really doesn't want to talk that's her business. Not that he cares or anything.]

Have fun.

[whichwayyoulean]

...Oh.

Okay that's kind of impressive.

[samson]

[Swedish! But close.

He mostly successfully manages not to check her out, and instead just moseys inside her apartment.]

It was a really motivating offer.

[well_assembled]

[Don't feel bad about it Brok, she's pretty obviously checking you out. One part ogling and one part threat assessment..because yeah.]

The good stuff generally is.

[She handed him a glass of the elegantly smokey, woodsy amber liquid. Even at arms length the soft warm aroma of barrel ages scotch teased the senses.]

[well_assembled]

Ok then.

[Nope, there is no caring going on. Not at all.]

Oh, I will.

[well_assembled]

It's a gift.

[And by gift she means one of the things the program gave her, so there might be a bitter edge in her thoughts about it.]

[samson]

[Brock is enormous and pretty obviously built for punching people's faces in, but he's in a genial mood at the moment! Because classy booze -- speaking of which, he gratefully takes the glass, pausing to let the aroma reach his senses.]

Any special occasion? Aside from magic castle-induced trauma.