(Untitled)

[petitbaron]

So, Georges is sprawled across a couch, with a bottle of absinthe and a pile of papers nearby, writing rather busily. He's completely forgotten his birthday was yesterday; he looks like he hasn't gotten sleep in a few days. What can we say, when the muse finally appears, she arrives with a vengeance. (In other words, yes, he has been writing for

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[serveditindrag]

Dave's not a birthday-celebrating sort of guy. Yeah, he'll raise up a glass but damned if he'd ever go out of his way to make it special for someone else. He's got a healthy appetite for the glass-raising, though, and looks at the bottle incredulously. "Shit! Is that what I think it is?"

[petitbaron]

Georges arches an eyebrow and looks up from his papers, giving Dave a slight grin. "Depends on what you think it is, doesn't it?"

[serveditindrag]

Dave picks up the bottle and regards it solemnly. "I think it's an illegal bottle of fucking green liquor. Am I right?"

[petitbaron]

"Might be illegal where you're from, but it's not in Paris," he says cheerfully. "But yes, it is absinthe. Want some?"

[keeptothelight]

"What are you writing?" Louisa, who has never really counted manners as one of her strong points, asks. And then, with much greater curiosity, "What are you drinking?"

[petitbaron]

"A novel, hopefully," he says without looking up. "And that's absinthe, cherie," he adds with an absent smile.

[keeptothelight]

"What's absinthe?" she asks, interest only growing.

[petitbaron]

"It's very strong liquor," he says and gives Louisa another smile. "Definitely not appropriate for young ladies, I'm afraid -- and I can't believe I just said that."