The world's second oldest pastime
Who: Reimu and everybody. It's open!
What: Drinks and people, both getting drunk. One more than the other.
When: Evening.
Where: One of the no-doubt countless pubs on the SS Thor.
Why: For CR!
Warnings: Underage drinking. Is there a drinking age in space?
Reimu didn't have much money. Donations were only bringing in the slightest trickle of funds, as usual, and she didn't have any other job. Thus, most of her money went towards having food to eat. The rest of it? Booze.
It was fairly early into the evening, so Reimu wasn't very drunk yet. One empty beer glass next to her at the bar, she looked at the menu, getting a little bored with the usual beverages. She pointed at one at random, looking up at the alien bartender. "What's this one?"
The bartender made a contemplative gesture with two arms, and a nervous one with the other four. "Er, that's called the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, but... it's very..."
"I'll take one." Reimu watched the bartender as he mixed the eight ingredients of the legendary cocktail. He nervously placed it in front of her, a thin wisp of smoke drifting up from its surface. A more perceptive person may have noticed that the olive already seemed to be disintegrating. She looked at it incredulously for a few seconds, before bringing it to her lips to take a tenative sip.
Several seconds later, her vision returned, and her sense of spatial orientation righted itself enough to determine that she was no longer on her stool. The far wall seemed to look suspiciously like the ceiling for a while, until her eyes focused enough to determine that it was indeed the ceiling, and she was lying on her back. The drink itself seemed to have somehow mostly avoided spilling - just a couple drops had escaped the shot glass, and had probably already left a permanent mark on the bar's surface.
Content in the knowledge that in the worst case scenario, only everybody in the entire bar had seen this, Reimu began the long, ardous journey from the floor back to her seat, which seemed at the moment to tower high above her like an unassailable tower.
What: Drinks and people, both getting drunk. One more than the other.
When: Evening.
Where: One of the no-doubt countless pubs on the SS Thor.
Why: For CR!
Warnings: Underage drinking. Is there a drinking age in space?
Reimu didn't have much money. Donations were only bringing in the slightest trickle of funds, as usual, and she didn't have any other job. Thus, most of her money went towards having food to eat. The rest of it? Booze.
It was fairly early into the evening, so Reimu wasn't very drunk yet. One empty beer glass next to her at the bar, she looked at the menu, getting a little bored with the usual beverages. She pointed at one at random, looking up at the alien bartender. "What's this one?"
The bartender made a contemplative gesture with two arms, and a nervous one with the other four. "Er, that's called the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, but... it's very..."
"I'll take one." Reimu watched the bartender as he mixed the eight ingredients of the legendary cocktail. He nervously placed it in front of her, a thin wisp of smoke drifting up from its surface. A more perceptive person may have noticed that the olive already seemed to be disintegrating. She looked at it incredulously for a few seconds, before bringing it to her lips to take a tenative sip.
Several seconds later, her vision returned, and her sense of spatial orientation righted itself enough to determine that she was no longer on her stool. The far wall seemed to look suspiciously like the ceiling for a while, until her eyes focused enough to determine that it was indeed the ceiling, and she was lying on her back. The drink itself seemed to have somehow mostly avoided spilling - just a couple drops had escaped the shot glass, and had probably already left a permanent mark on the bar's surface.
Content in the knowledge that in the worst case scenario, only everybody in the entire bar had seen this, Reimu began the long, ardous journey from the floor back to her seat, which seemed at the moment to tower high above her like an unassailable tower.