Eyebrow raised at the pirate's sudden laughter, Adjutor finds himself being led back into the main room. Leaving the pirate's grip, the teen makes his way behind the bar once more, tendrils slipping out of his arms to mix more drinks as he pulls a familiar journal out of a pocket and starts reading again.
...Bored...
...You know, with those three over there apparently not giving a fuck about having sex in public, I find myself strangely reminded of that time I walked in o- Whoops.
Well, sounds like you're not entirely immune to rookie mistakes yourself.
And you're clearly not immune to masochists in bondage gear.
Goddammit...whoever you are... I get the feeling that this is going to get old real fast.
Then don't concern yourself with me. If all goes well, you'll never know who I was.
And why is that a good thing?!
Spoilers.
Fuck you.
Adjutor closes the journal with a loud snap, tossing the book aside in a moment of frustration. Said book goes on to embed itself in a nearby wall with a small cloud of woodchips and masonry dust from the force of the impact.
Taking a moment to master himself again, Adjutor continues mixing various cocktails as a hollow feeling creeps over him.
Nothing that goes on here really matters, does it...
Hey, it...well...damn...
...
Allowing a moment to sigh, Adjutor blindly snatches up the nearest drink and takes a long drink before nearly gagging at the sudden fruity burst. Coughing for a moment as he sets the glass down roughly, Adjutor takes a look at the amalgamation of fruity liquors that suddenly tastes like nothing.
The Minnow Farmer...well, fuck.
Setting the drink aside, he reaches for another one without looking, fumbling with the glass a bit before managing to get some of the alcohol down his throat before gagging once more at the sheer harshness of the drink.
That many different alcohols...This must be the Iced Tea...
Tossing the glass aside, Adjutor now takes a good look at the drinks arrayed before him.
Scotch Sours, Minnow Farmers, Long Island Iced Teas, Screaming Orgasms, Slow Comfortable Screws, Rum and Coke, Silk Panties.
Shaking his head, Adjutor turns away from the cocktails to find himself staring at an array of straight drinks. Without even bothering to take a proper look, he can already guess what he's poured. Cognac, Wine, and Ale, all in the appropriate glasses.
Come one and all! The drink station is fully stocked with all your favorites! All that your server asks is that you keep him from thinking of the mess he's bound to turn into and/or already is! Fuck.