"Between the Sheets," Adjutor says from the bar, "Which is where you might end up spending most of your time here, if you happen to be fortunate enough."
Time blinked at the answer. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the individual's apt choice in alcohol given the audible lovemaking in the air. But what the hell, there's alcohol to be drunk.
"May fortune smile upon me," the swordsman raised the glass in honor towards him and drank again to finish the last of the strong cocktail. He almost coughed at the next dose, the taste smarted strongly, "I definitely want more of this."
She grinned at Time enjoying his drink and said, "Try a Scotch Sour next then. It . . ." a frown crossed her face as her indigo eyes darkened, "It was my g- son's favorite."
He took note at the woman's shifting expression, despite the creeping dull sensation threatening to overtake his senses. There is pain in those eyes hiding behind that exterior, this he was sure. Time looked on at her with a warmer grin.
He replied softly, "Aye, lady. I'd imagine it would make for good booze."
Not realizing this, two more tendrils carry the now Reinforced Scotch Sours to Time (talks too much) and the pale blond thing (Nice legs, can't tell about the ass right now, as she's sitting in a chair.).
His lips widened into a bigger smile, "You. You're alright. I like you already."
He accepted the offer from the metallic appendages with much anticipation. He was already starting to get somewhat sluggish. Surely, these things would be just as good if not better than the last. Now, where would he end up this time once he drinks this magical drink of random teleportation? His gut instinctively feels he'd end up in the lavatory again in some convoluted sleeping posture.
Just as he was about to take a sip--
"So what about you Time?"
"Me? Nothing special. I guess woodcutting would be my profession back at home," he made a casual shrug as the fluid sloshed a bit in the glass, "I work at some tavern--err, bar in Nexus. Not a bad place... Yeah."
He somberly looked into the glass. His regrets from that snow-covered mountain came back to him. Despite all those years of faithful guarding, Lady Natasha was taken from him. To add salt to the wound, he never got to teach Enzu in his art. What an utter shame.
Time downed down the alcohol dubbed as Scotch Sour. He hissed quietly at acerbic taste of lemons. Sour, but good. Not quite his thing, though strong nevertheless. Warm. He was getting very warm and sluggish in a rather nice manner.
"Yeeaahhhh... This is great," he grinned as his speech slurred, "I want some more."
This would obviously be the cue for that guy with tendrils to let open the floodgates of booze.
"And dat... th'ng aboot CE...O? You just gotta... scare dem and ma'ke dem... piss their pants, Tommy."
Oh yeah, he is starting to feel the buzz.