09-28-2015, 03:04 PM
The tall glass hit the bar, the frothy suds washing out over the side and onto the counter. The French barkeep smiled broadly and accepted the wad of currency. Dean grabbed the glass handle and held it up high, cheerfully adding “And keep the tap open, pal.”
The demon chugged down the entire brew and grabbed the second that was already waiting for him. “Mm, who knew the friggin’ Nazis made such good beer,” he chimed, his eyes flashing black for just an instant as he pondered the implications of his statement. “Eh, I guess they were, ah, are, German.”
Sinestro’s eyebrow quirked and he slowly unfolded his arms, grabbing the stool next to his partner and pulling it out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he sighed, sitting down beside him. He pulled his hat from his head and hung it on one of the convenient hooks below the counter. “But I’m glad you like your drink, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean took another long drink, exhaling with refreshment after he was done. “What do they drink out on Korugaru, anyways? Space spritzes? Cosmic martinis?”
“Korugar,” the alien corrected with a smile, “and during my time, nothing. It was my belief at the time that an abolition of narcotics was a wise decision.” He sighed and tilted his head in concession, “However, in retrospect I believe that may have been one of the major contributing factors to the rebellion.”
Dean laughed and slapped Sinestro on the back, “Yeah, that’d get me ready to revolt, that’s for damn sure.”
Smirking, Sinestro nodded, “A note for the next time.”
“Well, what did you drink before all of… whatever world domination bull crap you pulled?” Dean asked passively as he ogled one of the passing women, her 1940’s dress glimmering playfully in the soft incandescent lighting.
“Nothing, it impedes willpower. It breaks your focus.” The piano started up in the background, the gentle tinkling of the notes allowing for a light, unobtrusive atmosphere. A few heads turned towards the player, one of the dapperly-dressed women shaking her head and murmuring about what a shame it was that there was no singer. “Besides, it didn’t do much for me after I got the ring.” Sinestro took a deep breath and idly rubbed his temple, “Though, long before inclusion in the Lanterns, I enjoyed the occasional drink.” He laughed softly to himself, “It seems as though creating alcohol through fermentation is almost universal, for even the most primitive societies.”
Drinking down the rest of the brew, Dean planted his glass back down. “Alright, so what’s your poison? Beer? Liquor? Some kinda other weird, space booze?”
“We called it ‘mancha’. It was a dark, almost black alcohol that was made from a fruit native to Korugar. It was generally distilled, at various potencies. It was sometimes herbed, other times more sweet.” He shrugged and leaned back, again folding his arms over his chest. “Though I doubt they have it here.”
“Huh. Sounds exotic.” Dean made eye contact with the bartender and tapped the bar with his fingers. “I’m a beer and whiskey kind of guy. They make it with wheat and hops and, you know, stuff. It takes like piss but it grows on ya.” Glancing over to the ex-lantern, he shrugged, “So you want a soda or something?”
Thaal shrugged, “I’m fine, as soon as they bring me my steak.” A waiter emerged from the kitchen with two plates in his hands, the double doors flapping back and forth. The plate slid down and he grinned at the meal, taking up the fork and knife. “Perfect timing.”
“Speak of the devil,” Dean scoffed, leaning back as his steaming burger was placed in front of him. “Well, you know you could make one, if you really wanted. Get the ol’ omnilium swirling.”
The alien pushed a bite of his meal into his mouth eagerly, “I won’t spend my reserves on something as petty as a drink, Dean.”
Shrugging, Dean sunk into his burger, chewing loudly. “Fine, that… fruit stuff kinda sounds like wine. Order one of those, I’ll cover you.”
Sinestro waved his hand, picking up a napkin and wiping the grease from his dirty face. He swallowed and shook his head, “No. No thank you, really.”
“Too late,” the demon laughed and accepted the tall glass, filled with the dark red fluid. “Yeah, here you go you stuck up bastard. Drink up.”
Sighing heavily, Sinestro snatched the glass, swirling it under his nose. “This smells awful,” he said flatly.
“It is. It’s wine.” The hunter took another messy bite.
Sinestro’s lip curled as he gave it another sniff, “Ah yes, how inspiring.” Finally he brought it to his lips and took a small sip. “Oh, that’s why it smelled awful. Because it’s awful.” He placed the glass down and took another long, pained breath. “Alright, fine,” he said in an exacerbated tone.
“Fine?” Dean asked, pushing fries into his face, “What’s fine?”
Rolling his eyes, Sinestro held his hand out in front of him, a tiny glow emanating from his palm. “Fine.”
Dean’s eyes went wide, gawking as he slapped the counter. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said with a guffaw. “Well, actually, I guess I already was.”
A small, clear glass appeared in the alien’s fingers, quickly filled with a transparent, black fluid. He grasped it, turning it back and forth in the light. He smiled in quiet amazement at his creation, watching as the crystal glinted in the light. “This is the first thing I have made in this place. The very first use of my power in this place.”
Dean nodded solemnly. “Well uh…” he tipped his cup up to his partner, “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” They tapped their glasses together and the night went on, the music that played around them strangely absent of a singer.
The demon chugged down the entire brew and grabbed the second that was already waiting for him. “Mm, who knew the friggin’ Nazis made such good beer,” he chimed, his eyes flashing black for just an instant as he pondered the implications of his statement. “Eh, I guess they were, ah, are, German.”
Sinestro’s eyebrow quirked and he slowly unfolded his arms, grabbing the stool next to his partner and pulling it out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he sighed, sitting down beside him. He pulled his hat from his head and hung it on one of the convenient hooks below the counter. “But I’m glad you like your drink, Mr. Winchester.”
Dean took another long drink, exhaling with refreshment after he was done. “What do they drink out on Korugaru, anyways? Space spritzes? Cosmic martinis?”
“Korugar,” the alien corrected with a smile, “and during my time, nothing. It was my belief at the time that an abolition of narcotics was a wise decision.” He sighed and tilted his head in concession, “However, in retrospect I believe that may have been one of the major contributing factors to the rebellion.”
Dean laughed and slapped Sinestro on the back, “Yeah, that’d get me ready to revolt, that’s for damn sure.”
Smirking, Sinestro nodded, “A note for the next time.”
“Well, what did you drink before all of… whatever world domination bull crap you pulled?” Dean asked passively as he ogled one of the passing women, her 1940’s dress glimmering playfully in the soft incandescent lighting.
“Nothing, it impedes willpower. It breaks your focus.” The piano started up in the background, the gentle tinkling of the notes allowing for a light, unobtrusive atmosphere. A few heads turned towards the player, one of the dapperly-dressed women shaking her head and murmuring about what a shame it was that there was no singer. “Besides, it didn’t do much for me after I got the ring.” Sinestro took a deep breath and idly rubbed his temple, “Though, long before inclusion in the Lanterns, I enjoyed the occasional drink.” He laughed softly to himself, “It seems as though creating alcohol through fermentation is almost universal, for even the most primitive societies.”
Drinking down the rest of the brew, Dean planted his glass back down. “Alright, so what’s your poison? Beer? Liquor? Some kinda other weird, space booze?”
“We called it ‘mancha’. It was a dark, almost black alcohol that was made from a fruit native to Korugar. It was generally distilled, at various potencies. It was sometimes herbed, other times more sweet.” He shrugged and leaned back, again folding his arms over his chest. “Though I doubt they have it here.”
“Huh. Sounds exotic.” Dean made eye contact with the bartender and tapped the bar with his fingers. “I’m a beer and whiskey kind of guy. They make it with wheat and hops and, you know, stuff. It takes like piss but it grows on ya.” Glancing over to the ex-lantern, he shrugged, “So you want a soda or something?”
Thaal shrugged, “I’m fine, as soon as they bring me my steak.” A waiter emerged from the kitchen with two plates in his hands, the double doors flapping back and forth. The plate slid down and he grinned at the meal, taking up the fork and knife. “Perfect timing.”
“Speak of the devil,” Dean scoffed, leaning back as his steaming burger was placed in front of him. “Well, you know you could make one, if you really wanted. Get the ol’ omnilium swirling.”
The alien pushed a bite of his meal into his mouth eagerly, “I won’t spend my reserves on something as petty as a drink, Dean.”
Shrugging, Dean sunk into his burger, chewing loudly. “Fine, that… fruit stuff kinda sounds like wine. Order one of those, I’ll cover you.”
Sinestro waved his hand, picking up a napkin and wiping the grease from his dirty face. He swallowed and shook his head, “No. No thank you, really.”
“Too late,” the demon laughed and accepted the tall glass, filled with the dark red fluid. “Yeah, here you go you stuck up bastard. Drink up.”
Sighing heavily, Sinestro snatched the glass, swirling it under his nose. “This smells awful,” he said flatly.
“It is. It’s wine.” The hunter took another messy bite.
Sinestro’s lip curled as he gave it another sniff, “Ah yes, how inspiring.” Finally he brought it to his lips and took a small sip. “Oh, that’s why it smelled awful. Because it’s awful.” He placed the glass down and took another long, pained breath. “Alright, fine,” he said in an exacerbated tone.
“Fine?” Dean asked, pushing fries into his face, “What’s fine?”
Rolling his eyes, Sinestro held his hand out in front of him, a tiny glow emanating from his palm. “Fine.”
Dean’s eyes went wide, gawking as he slapped the counter. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said with a guffaw. “Well, actually, I guess I already was.”
A small, clear glass appeared in the alien’s fingers, quickly filled with a transparent, black fluid. He grasped it, turning it back and forth in the light. He smiled in quiet amazement at his creation, watching as the crystal glinted in the light. “This is the first thing I have made in this place. The very first use of my power in this place.”
Dean nodded solemnly. “Well uh…” he tipped his cup up to his partner, “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” They tapped their glasses together and the night went on, the music that played around them strangely absent of a singer.
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