(Untitled)

[400rabbits]

Ometochtli will not let himself be overshadowed by some upstart European. Especially not one who appears to make alcohol out of fruit. That's just weird.

To achieve this, he has set up a large, open barrel of pulque (which, incidentally, seems to be bottomless) in a readily visible spot against a wall. Next to it, is a low table covered in stacks of

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[dionysos_evios]

He's just an old man, old Dionysos with a comic mask, and he makes a low bow for the rabbit. "What's this, what's this? Something for sharing?"

Typist: I have always adored your Centzon Totochtin, but now that they have declared a BOOZE WAR, I love them even more.

[400rabbits]

Ometochtli twitches and ear, opens his eyes and hops out from under the table. "It's pulque."

[dionysos_evios]

"Then you are as foreign here as I am. Let me drink to you," he says, dipping himself a little fruit-cup of pulque. He hesitates, the jicara cup halfway to his mouth.

[400rabbits]

Ometochtli twitches his ears.