Fill, Fullmetal Alchemist, "Drink Up"evil_little_dogJanuary 31 2016, 01:53:00 UTC
"Wh-whash thish?" Maes asked, holding up a red bottle that glowed venomously in the bar light.
"Sit say onna label?" Roy peered at the letters, trying to force them to focus rather than sway from side to side.
Maes adjusted his glasses and leaned closer until his nose pressed against the bottle's neck. "Cin...sin...'min." Squinting his eyes down to narrow slits, he read more. "Snaps."
The little warning bell which usually rang in the back of Roy's skull had been drowned out by all the other booze they'd tossed back this evening. "Sure," he said, shoving his shot glass toward Maes. "Pour."
Maes did, only sloshing a little onto the bar. He poured another shot for himself and they raised their glasses to each other before tossing back the booze.
Liquid fire ignited Roy's throat, making him feel like a dragon. His eyes watered. He swallowed hard to keep from spitting flames all over the bar top (Aunt Chris would skin him and wear his flesh like a cape if he set her bar on fire). Through an indeterminable time (forever), a conflagration burned in his gut, eating away all the other booze lodged there and rising back up the chimney of Roy's throat in a belch that rattled the glasses and shook the mirror behind the bar.
"What the hell was that?" Maes asked, his voice sounding scorched and wavery.
"Lava," Roy gasped against the burn. He grabbed for the bottle, catching it on the first try. "Le'sh have another."
"Sit say onna label?" Roy peered at the letters, trying to force them to focus rather than sway from side to side.
Maes adjusted his glasses and leaned closer until his nose pressed against the bottle's neck. "Cin...sin...'min." Squinting his eyes down to narrow slits, he read more. "Snaps."
The little warning bell which usually rang in the back of Roy's skull had been drowned out by all the other booze they'd tossed back this evening. "Sure," he said, shoving his shot glass toward Maes. "Pour."
Maes did, only sloshing a little onto the bar. He poured another shot for himself and they raised their glasses to each other before tossing back the booze.
Liquid fire ignited Roy's throat, making him feel like a dragon. His eyes watered. He swallowed hard to keep from spitting flames all over the bar top (Aunt Chris would skin him and wear his flesh like a cape if he set her bar on fire). Through an indeterminable time (forever), a conflagration burned in his gut, eating away all the other booze lodged there and rising back up the chimney of Roy's throat in a belch that rattled the glasses and shook the mirror behind the bar.
"What the hell was that?" Maes asked, his voice sounding scorched and wavery.
"Lava," Roy gasped against the burn. He grabbed for the bottle, catching it on the first try. "Le'sh have another."
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BRILLIANT. LOVE.
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This was great!
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