She smiles, pleased to find someone who feels like listening to her ramble. Loren would have too, though he was rather busy given his own full time occupation. Korbin had no such interest (or the ability to hear, at the moment), and though Noah might care they usually ended up talking about hunting. Their conversations might change with her out in the field less, though she will never cease to be a hunter. ”I like willing students, though I admit, I know almost nothing about you. Where did you come from, and what did you do?” she asks, curious about their new Outlander resident.
Weaver sips from her own glass as well, listening to his assessment. It’s exactly what she’d been going for. ”Well don’t worry, I have sweeter drinks on the menu. But I wanted dry because the flavors should give it a little more sweetness, and I don’t want the sugar to overpower.” She puts the glass down, going to a nearby shelf full of various spices and extracts. It is her favorite shelf, collected from Torchline and the Grounds, full of things you cannot get in Halo. She grabs a stick of cinnamon and a nutmeg seed, along with a grater, grating a bit of each into the glasses. ”I’ll actually infuse the batch with these in a barrel which will impart the oak flavor too, but I just like to make sure I think it’ll work before I waste all that booze. Mix,” she says, a command, using her finger to swirl her own drink. She’s not all that proper. She sips again, letting the taste linger on her tongue, and then waiting for Chuy to give her an assessment.
Weaver sips from her own glass as well, listening to his assessment. It’s exactly what she’d been going for. ”Well don’t worry, I have sweeter drinks on the menu. But I wanted dry because the flavors should give it a little more sweetness, and I don’t want the sugar to overpower.” She puts the glass down, going to a nearby shelf full of various spices and extracts. It is her favorite shelf, collected from Torchline and the Grounds, full of things you cannot get in Halo. She grabs a stick of cinnamon and a nutmeg seed, along with a grater, grating a bit of each into the glasses. ”I’ll actually infuse the batch with these in a barrel which will impart the oak flavor too, but I just like to make sure I think it’ll work before I waste all that booze. Mix,” she says, a command, using her finger to swirl her own drink. She’s not all that proper. She sips again, letting the taste linger on her tongue, and then waiting for Chuy to give her an assessment.
weaver
-- kiss you like a whiskey fire --
