So, apparently, the well-thought-out evil genius plan these days is blowing things up. Chuck doesn't know why, because he's nowhere near the evil genius status
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"I'll guess that Buzz is just a brand of beer I don't know. But the others...where's Tarkalea, for starters? And was do you add to a martini to make it say vespers?" He's not going to order any of them. He's just curious.
"Buzz is actually a caffeinated beer. I don't... actually remember where Tarkalea is, but they make really good tea. And a Vesper Martini is three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel."
Here, have a mutant, finally recovered from that whole being-worshipped thing over the weekend. He's in a good mood, even if he is walking proof that it is possible to have an impressive case of bed-hair on one's tail, if one happens to have a tail.
He grins at the specials board.
"You got a favorite, out of those? One you'd recommend?"
"What is that?" he asks. "I don't think we have it back home--or at least, not that I've heard. I'm usually a beer or soda man, myself, but what's the point of living if you never try new things?"
It has been a good long while indeed since the floorboards of Milliways creaked from the light, unassuming step of this particular humble tailor.
Back on the station, things are slowly settling into a monotonous rut of sorts only ever highlighted by his shiny new habit of approximately weekly lunch dates with the station's commanding medical officer.
However, he didn't expect to see such familiar drink options on the Happy Hour Specials board. It's...interesting.
Sidling up close to the bar, carefully assessing the strange features of the human barkeep (he's never quite moved past his fascination for aliens, do forgive him). "I am given to understand the Tarkalean tea is very good, but I have never had the opportunity to try a genuine cup of it. Please, barkeep, a cup if you will."
Sliding the tall glass-with-thin-graceful-handle along the polished wood, Garak then cups his hands around the delicate piece of art and inhales deeply of the fragrant fumes.
Spicier, more scintillating in scent than anything the Replimat could ever replicate, and suddenly he gets a sense of the whys and wherefores of his young friend's endless fascination with the stuff.
"My name is Garak." He looks up with a congenial smile and his chin tilted slightly up. "I don't believe we have met."
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"Excuse me...can you tell me about these drinks?"
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Yep.
It's a Bond drink.
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He grins at the specials board.
"You got a favorite, out of those? One you'd recommend?"
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But her detour to the mall somehow gets even more detoured.
Oh well. She wanders up to the bar, still in her scrubs from work.
"Chocolate milk? Really?"
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HE LOVES HIS CHOCOLATE MILK D:
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Then she reads the rest.
"... or most of those," she concedes. At least she knows what "chocolate milk" is.
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CHOCOLATE MILK IS COMPLETELY APPROPRIATE.
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Tommy sits at the bar, takes one look at the specials...
"What the hell kinda crap is that?"
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"Drinks."
Do not insult his drinks. :|
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-_-
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Back on the station, things are slowly settling into a monotonous rut of sorts only ever highlighted by his shiny new habit of approximately weekly lunch dates with the station's commanding medical officer.
However, he didn't expect to see such familiar drink options on the Happy Hour Specials board. It's...interesting.
Sidling up close to the bar, carefully assessing the strange features of the human barkeep (he's never quite moved past his fascination for aliens, do forgive him). "I am given to understand the Tarkalean tea is very good, but I have never had the opportunity to try a genuine cup of it. Please, barkeep, a cup if you will."
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WE MEAN.
"Absolutely."
:D :D :D
He has his tea in short order.
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Sliding the tall glass-with-thin-graceful-handle along the polished wood, Garak then cups his hands around the delicate piece of art and inhales deeply of the fragrant fumes.
Spicier, more scintillating in scent than anything the Replimat could ever replicate, and suddenly he gets a sense of the whys and wherefores of his young friend's endless fascination with the stuff.
"My name is Garak." He looks up with a congenial smile and his chin tilted slightly up. "I don't believe we have met."
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:D!
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