Buffy left his apartment door swinging open while she adventured down to the communal kitchen. The flavoured vodka had come with a funny little brochure, full of promises for what could actually be achieved with such a niche product. For niche it was -- few of her regulars ever wanted to drink artificially flavoured second-shelf vodka. Good for them; they were missing out. Because Buffy had it on good authority (AKA her gut instinct) that a Birthday Suit would be a delicious shot. One part vodka, smothered in whipped cream and multi-coloured sprinkles.
Ludicrous? Yes. Absolutely. But ludicrousness was sort of the point. She intended to break up the monotony of however-many whiskey bottles with something else. It wasn't about saccharine attempts to coax smiles. It wasn't even about making Jack Horner feel better. It was about being there, being different, and trying to find some kind of down-payment for what she saw as a debt owed.
Upon her return, she was balancing a tray of six cream-topped shots. Apologetically: "There were no shot glasses. I had to settle for ramekins. Look at this way...now they're all doubles. Now stop staring at the wall, deal us poker hands, and at least try to sit up straight."
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Buffy left his apartment door swinging open while she adventured down to the communal kitchen. The flavoured vodka had come with a funny little brochure, full of promises for what could actually be achieved with such a niche product. For niche it was -- few of her regulars ever wanted to drink artificially flavoured second-shelf vodka. Good for them; they were missing out. Because Buffy had it on good authority (AKA her gut instinct) that a Birthday Suit would be a delicious shot. One part vodka, smothered in whipped cream and multi-coloured sprinkles.
Ludicrous? Yes. Absolutely. But ludicrousness was sort of the point. She intended to break up the monotony of however-many whiskey bottles with something else. It wasn't about saccharine attempts to coax smiles. It wasn't even about making Jack Horner feel better. It was about being there, being different, and trying to find some kind of down-payment for what she saw as a debt owed.
Upon her return, she was balancing a tray of six cream-topped shots. Apologetically: "There were no shot glasses. I had to settle for ramekins. Look at this way...now they're all doubles. Now stop staring at the wall, deal us poker hands, and at least try to sit up straight."
We'll get through this.