The Old Fashioned Is Commonly Held To Have Been Invented In 1880

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU
What: Settling in, dealing with things, making friends
When: Late March
Where: Oak & Iron, the woods, around
Warnings: Discussion of death & the ethics of suicide, trauma, whatever you bring with you




Gallery Style | Oak & Iron

Oak & Iron undergoes a few renovations, just a couple days' worth, to expand the bar area and add labels in Braille (thanks Gerry). When they're done, Pumpkin Hollow has a new bartender, a winged lass in a blindfold wreathed in the scents of sex and gunpowder. She quickly picks up a reputation for almost prescient service; good suggestions for drinks, never leaving a glass empty long, and a firm hand for when you're cut off. Though every now and again there's an odd dance where someone isn't cut off and instead drinks enough to, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking die - except they don't die, and instead just get normal drunk.

A rather extensive cocktail menu manifests too (thanks Magne, with your working eyes). It's cut up into various flavors, with the ingredients clearly laid out (thanks Max Maximum, with your knowledge of food allergies), but at the tail end of the menu is a change in theme; two sections labeled by nation instead of flavor. The countries in question are Gallery, and Japan.

Gangster Style | The Woods

Here's the needle Erin has to thread: she can't overload herself socially, but she also can't listen to the urge to isolate. So one day she goes out into the woods just at the edge of town and digs a pair of graves in the soft soil, leaving the dirt in a huge pile off to the side. You might find her out here, just laying in one, trying to listen to the sounds of the forest, but if she knows you, well, you might have been invited. "Six feet deep, best rest you'll get."

Tourist Style | Wildcard

Come get your bird lady.

Comments

[abhorrently]

Max, you are a pearl among men.

"So, if I forewent my promised death by cocktail..."

Just asking. Like she said, Erin's working, and Fever knows when to lay off.

[crushed_pearls]

"Oh we're locked in now," Erin teases, leaning in with a coy smile. "But if you're not spoken for tomorrow night, drop by my place. Dinner, chat, separate bedrooms...if you want to keep them separate anyway."

Can't just exclude Daisy off the jump.

[abhorrently]

Max is spared from having to cover, then.

"Give me the address and a good time, and then you can consider me spoken for."

The separate bedrooms will be a question she'll save for dinner tomorrow, if it doesn't become apparent.

[crushed_pearls]

"Living with Daisy not too far from the bar." Erin gives directions the author won't narrate because he's not opening the map on this damn phone. "Call it around six, six thirty? Figure worst case is I crash with Daisy, save you a bad walk home."

[abhorrently]

"Are you going to tell your wife I'm coming over, or am I a surprise?"

She has no idea what the worst case would be, and has no inclination to find out.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin wheezes and needs A Minute Here, but when she recovers she takes her sending stone from her pocket and waggles it. Shall she call now?

[abhorrently]

Oh, no, Erin. That call needs to be your own entirely, in both senses of the word. Fever just takes a drink and leans back, recusing herself from the decision.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin leans back against the shelves behind the bar and decides that she hasn't subjected Daisy to enough no-context bullshit lately.

So what Daisy gets is this:

"Dinner with a sexy homewrecker tomorrow, love?"

[hadnoright]

A solid few seconds go by without an actual response, though the mumbled 'what the fuck, Erin—?' might be audible despite her best efforts, before there's a sigh and:

"—Fever. Right?"

[crushed_pearls]

"Got it in one. Tonight's no good, I'm working, so...?"

[hadnoright]

"If you were making that joke about anyone else I'd've had a lot more questions." Snorts. "Yeah. Alright. Sure."

[crushed_pearls]

"Best wife ever, see ya after work."

And back forward to the bar, grinning like a fox.

[abhorrently]

Fever is desperately trying to not laugh, but it's clear in her voice.

"She has good intuition."

What does one bring to a dinner like this apart from themselves...

[crushed_pearls]

"Don't expect miracles from my cooking," Erin warns, grinning warmly herself. "If you want something special you'll need to bring it yourself. Me, I'm gonna see if I can shake Mister Sims down for some good tea."

[abhorrently]

"I'm nothing spectacular in the kitchen, but I'm sure I can figure out a decent side and a suitable bottle of wine. Tell Daisy this time we're not repeating the flaming glasses - she'll understand."

If only because you can only flirt with a woman that way once before it loses its charm.

[maximumcake]

"Flaming glasses?" Max says as he arrives back at the bar with a big tray of sauced fruits some bread and butter and all the other miscellaneous ingredients they need to multiply Fever's vision by four.

"I didn't hear that story. Now I wanna know."

There's laughter evident in his voice. He's been listening and cracking up to all of this. Like, yes, Erin and Daisy are both basically family to him but that just means he loves hearing they are having a good time even more.

[abhorrently]

"It's not as out there as the term would imply, but after the Village, when I was sulking about things, I ran into Daisy and we got to talking. Found a drink from where I came from - fireswill is the name, from the spices and the strength, and between her strength and my magic, we decided to see if she could drink literal fire. Just to say she did, if she could."

In truth, born from another of Those Fucking Weeks, but that would just make her sound depressing.

"Turns out, she can. And she's beautiful when she does. But I don't think she'd be inclined to make it her party trick."

[maximumcake]

Normal people might hear this story and be horrified, but Max just laughs. "Yeah, that sounds like the Daisy I know and love. You know I'm going to have to tease her from now on by calling her 'hot lips' right?" He winks. He might be able to say it once, just once, and live.

"I'm so glad she's making more friends. And you too. I propose a toast to that!"

[crushed_pearls]

"Let me finish her drink," Erin teases. "You wanna scoot around the bar and get the two of us something to toast with while I handle it?"

The trick of the thing is the weight and viscosity of the mixes. Erin picks each up in turn, wiggling each gently, and puts them in order on the left side of the glass. To each is added a different liquor, and then they're slowly poured down the side of the barspoon. The chunked fruits are added to layers that match their color, until, at last, in front of Fever is a rainbow glass with the spoon down the side.

Erin offers her a steel straw: "The sanctioned action is to sip while dragging the straw up through the layers, but you do you."

quick little one

[maximumcake]

"Sure. I'll grab something a little less likely to put us both in a coma." What he ends up putting together for them is a simple Daiquiri--with extra sugar for Erin.

"All right, everyone ready?"

[abhorrently]

Pushing aside the first drink so there's room for the second, Fever's eyes are practically sparkling. It's a work of art. It will probably lay her out flat. It's perfect.

Putting the straw in, she lifts the glass for their little toast.

"To friendships, old and new."

Right, so she's supposed to drag the straw up for this. It's delicious, and she can absolutely see how she's going to die. The way her eyebrows lift says enough about her opinion on it.

[maximumcake]

"And," Max adds with a hint of melancholy, "To the friends we lost. They won't be forgotten." He lifts his glass and takes a swig.

He's just swallowing when he glances over and catches the look on Fever's face. He chokes on a laugh. "I think we got a winner here, Erin."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin raises her glass and takes a deep drink, smiling knowingly at Fever. "Fun fact - on my world cocktails like that are 'girly' because they hide the flavor of the alcohol. The implications are fucked, but the taste? Amazing."

[abhorrently]

"Your world must think an awful lot of its girls."

The glint in her eye says she knows Erin's not implying that, but the way it'll hit her later, she can't help but laugh at the idea.

"This is for sure utterly dangerous, and I can't thank the pair of you enough for it."

[maximumcake]

Max snorts into his drink. "Pff, yeah. Guys used to say that to me all the time when I'd order these. I'd tell them I like it fruity and give 'em a wink. Sometimes I got laid. Most of the time they looked like I'd just called their mother a bad name and stomped off in a huff."

He laughs like that's a fun memory. To be fair, it was. It made him a popular drinking buddy for ladies in college. They felt safer with him looking over them, knowing he was a teddy bear of a man despite his size.

"Wait to thank us until tomorrow." He lifts his glass once more time in cheers. She's really going to be feeling it later. Rest in peace, Fever.