this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
"Booo," Niki says, quietly and all too reasonably, given that he readily accepts sliders and fries instead and completely misses the sampler plate Sunjata also orders. He's too busy holding the whiskey up to the light, as if the shine of it through the glass might offer some hidden insight, and he hums his approval. "Do you think the types of drinks we enjoy say things about our personalities?" he muses, before taking a sip.
Spicier is right, the necromancer giving a sharp shake of his head and hissing in a breath, though it's not nearly the negative reaction he'd given the tequila. "I can see why it'd appeal," he admits. "Though I don't think I would want more than a sip." Still, if an old fashioned is the Heartless's go-to, it only seems right to try it, and so he reaches for the mini cocktail and gives it a sniff.
"Smells... citrusy?" he tries.
Spicier is right, the necromancer giving a sharp shake of his head and hissing in a breath, though it's not nearly the negative reaction he'd given the tequila. "I can see why it'd appeal," he admits. "Though I don't think I would want more than a sip." Still, if an old fashioned is the Heartless's go-to, it only seems right to try it, and so he reaches for the mini cocktail and gives it a sniff.
"Smells... citrusy?" he tries.
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
