(no subject)
Once in a while, it's a nice thing to make your own drink, and with gin that was not distilled two hours ago in a contraption that involves one of Trapper McIntyre's (clean, or so he says) tube socks. Hawkeye has never been shy; when he places a hand on the countertop -- almost as if preparing to dance -- and inquires, "May I?" he receives a note on a napkin.
"Why, certainly," he says, blithe. "You charmer." He winks at the Bar and steps around.
SPECIALS:
Martini (dry)
He leans comfortably over the bar in a habitual hunch; says, "Bring me your tired, your hungry, your longing for a good whiskey sour." He takes a sip of his (perfect) martini.
It is probably best for everyone involved that Hawkeye is not wearing the blindfold that he was seen in the last few times that he was in the bar.
[ETA: Hhhhhallo, happy fun people! Bartending is officially closed for the evening; thank you for all tags, and I'll be picking up slowtimes at the earliest opportunity!]
"Why, certainly," he says, blithe. "You charmer." He winks at the Bar and steps around.
SPECIALS:
Martini (dry)
He leans comfortably over the bar in a habitual hunch; says, "Bring me your tired, your hungry, your longing for a good whiskey sour." He takes a sip of his (perfect) martini.
It is probably best for everyone involved that Hawkeye is not wearing the blindfold that he was seen in the last few times that he was in the bar.
[ETA: Hhhhhallo, happy fun people! Bartending is officially closed for the evening; thank you for all tags, and I'll be picking up slowtimes at the earliest opportunity!]