(oh. marc had definitely thought he'd be getting a pour of just vodka, it hadn't twigged that amos would decide to split the drink in half and top it up with vodka. his eyebrows dart up towards his hairline briefly, a quick flicker of realisation tinged with doubt. it's not a judgement he's especially wed to — he's a man that has and will put almost anything into his body if he considers it necessary, without a single flicker of consideration as to what it'll do to him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have preferences. )
Mostly, it explains why you thought that wasn't that bad, ( he half-answers, a shoulder lifting in a small, tight shrug. it's as much of an admission that he hadn't thought about it that deeply as he'll give, as well as a hint that this — light-hearted conversation — isn't something he does often.
still. )
I have a friend, ( therapist, he means his therapist. ) Who seems to think that a drink preference says something about a person. ( and it's not quite how she put it, but you know. conversation. ) Scotch for the serious. Rum for rascals. ( it's not the word marc would use for jake, but the alliteration fits. ) I never caught what she thought of vodka. ( 'volatile', maybe. it'd fit.
and for tequila? the first word that comes to mind is troublesome, which describes well enough some of the nights his younger self had after drinking it, but here and now, it's not a word that strikes him as suitable for amos.
a twitch of his lips and instead of elaborating or adding anything else, he picks up his glass and holds up to the light. it's still just as blue as it had been, and for a sharp, sudden second, marc thinks it's weird that they're on a resort that's clearly not on earth but has so many earth alcohols. his gaze slides back towards thomas, who has moved on to loading the glasswasher. from where marc is, he can't see what he's putting into it, but he'd be willing to put money on it not being dirty glasses.
whatever it is, it's accompanied by another inane icebreaker directed at a woman who's just sat down, an if you were a type of cookie, what would you be and why? that earns a soft inhale of breath from marc. then, a sip of his remade drink, gaze lifting to meet amos's. )
no subject
Mostly, it explains why you thought that wasn't that bad, ( he half-answers, a shoulder lifting in a small, tight shrug. it's as much of an admission that he hadn't thought about it that deeply as he'll give, as well as a hint that this — light-hearted conversation — isn't something he does often.
still. )
I have a friend, ( therapist, he means his therapist. ) Who seems to think that a drink preference says something about a person. ( and it's not quite how she put it, but you know. conversation. ) Scotch for the serious. Rum for rascals. ( it's not the word marc would use for jake, but the alliteration fits. ) I never caught what she thought of vodka. ( 'volatile', maybe. it'd fit.
and for tequila? the first word that comes to mind is troublesome, which describes well enough some of the nights his younger self had after drinking it, but here and now, it's not a word that strikes him as suitable for amos.
a twitch of his lips and instead of elaborating or adding anything else, he picks up his glass and holds up to the light. it's still just as blue as it had been, and for a sharp, sudden second, marc thinks it's weird that they're on a resort that's clearly not on earth but has so many earth alcohols. his gaze slides back towards thomas, who has moved on to loading the glasswasher. from where marc is, he can't see what he's putting into it, but he'd be willing to put money on it not being dirty glasses.
whatever it is, it's accompanied by another inane icebreaker directed at a woman who's just sat down, an if you were a type of cookie, what would you be and why? that earns a soft inhale of breath from marc. then, a sip of his remade drink, gaze lifting to meet amos's. )
I won't tell him that you could take his job.