Leon idly watched the seconds climb higher on the timer function of his wrist communicator. So far, the drink had been whistling, bubbling, and steaming for 5 minutes uninterrupted. He'd tasted it early on and discovered that, despite being clear (aside from the bubbles), it had a viscus texture and tasted like a fruit salad passed by plain gelatin created with vodka. Like any sane individual, he'd decided that he'd time how long it kept whistling (and steaming, and bubbling) instead of drinking it.
From the rate it was going, that probably would have entertained him for a good half an hour, but at around 12 minutes and 47 seconds, someone slid into the seat next to him and started talking. Ah, shit, and they also talked to him. He probably would have just ignored them like he did with the last couple people, but the mention of his drink had him immediately shaking his head and saying,
"Please don't. She broke 3 glasses making this one. There's- ah," he paused, not sure how to describe the process, "a dance involved." If pressed for details, he'd probably say it looked something like a shimmy and twirl she did while using the cocktail shaker. It looked as if the twirl was supposed to end with her gracefully pouring the liquid into the glass, but the first time she attempted it she only succeeded at chucking the damn thing at said glass so hard both the shaker and shards got a good 20 feet away. It had been an experience. She'd insisted on trying again. He didn't know how to ask for a different drink without hurting her feelings.
"I'd offer you mine, but it's the only thing keeping her from making me another drink. They've been getting more complicated." And he was somewhat terrified that the next one would involve the blowtorch he absolutely knew she had behind the counter.
At his accidental offer, Leon finally looked at his new bar neighbor. The first thing he noticed was pink. The second was that was a nice dress, maybe something Noel might like. Maybe not in that exact color, but something like it. Although she'd wanted to steer more away from dresses lately to prevent public fondling. Which made him remember where she was. Being privately fondled. Which he'd been trying not to think about. His gaze shifted back to his wrist communicator, watching the seconds tick by. The drink was still whistling. Maybe if he downed it like a shot he could ignore the texture? He was pretty sure this one was alcoholic so maybe he'd earn back his lost buzz.
From the rate it was going, that probably would have entertained him for a good half an hour, but at around 12 minutes and 47 seconds, someone slid into the seat next to him and started talking. Ah, shit, and they also talked to him. He probably would have just ignored them like he did with the last couple people, but the mention of his drink had him immediately shaking his head and saying,
"Please don't. She broke 3 glasses making this one. There's- ah," he paused, not sure how to describe the process, "a dance involved." If pressed for details, he'd probably say it looked something like a shimmy and twirl she did while using the cocktail shaker. It looked as if the twirl was supposed to end with her gracefully pouring the liquid into the glass, but the first time she attempted it she only succeeded at chucking the damn thing at said glass so hard both the shaker and shards got a good 20 feet away. It had been an experience. She'd insisted on trying again. He didn't know how to ask for a different drink without hurting her feelings.
"I'd offer you mine, but it's the only thing keeping her from making me another drink. They've been getting more complicated." And he was somewhat terrified that the next one would involve the blowtorch he absolutely knew she had behind the counter.
At his accidental offer, Leon finally looked at his new bar neighbor. The first thing he noticed was pink. The second was that was a nice dress, maybe something Noel might like. Maybe not in that exact color, but something like it. Although she'd wanted to steer more away from dresses lately to prevent public fondling. Which made him remember where she was. Being privately fondled. Which he'd been trying not to think about. His gaze shifted back to his wrist communicator, watching the seconds tick by. The drink was still whistling. Maybe if he downed it like a shot he could ignore the texture? He was pretty sure this one was alcoholic so maybe he'd earn back his lost buzz.
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On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-01-2020, 05:28 PM
RE: On Your Mark - by skiesofpurple - 09-01-2020, 05:33 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-01-2020, 06:08 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-01-2020, 06:51 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-01-2020, 07:17 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-01-2020, 07:55 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-01-2020, 08:24 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-02-2020, 01:01 AM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-02-2020, 08:12 AM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-02-2020, 08:46 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-02-2020, 09:12 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-03-2020, 12:07 AM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-03-2020, 12:33 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-13-2020, 02:56 AM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-13-2020, 04:12 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-21-2020, 10:17 AM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-21-2020, 12:04 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-21-2020, 12:43 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-21-2020, 01:08 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by skiesofpurple - 09-29-2020, 09:04 PM
RE: On Your Mark [closed] - by SolitareLee - 09-30-2020, 04:05 PM