The jar landed on the table, and Vesper yapped short laughter. She had to swallow another laugh when she watched Asher being maneuvered around, but he very much seemed okay with the manhandling and held the cups like they were precious chalices. He planted his scrawny ass in the chair, dreamily watching the Cajun cook, as Ves leaned back in the precarious construction and inhaled the odd aroma of cooked food. She hoped that her taste buds could enjoy it as much as her nose did.
“I’m sure it is,” the Centurion told Rémy warmly, grabbing the clear jar and watching its contents slosh back and forth. She looked at all three coydog males then took it upon herself to pour each of them a drink. Sniffing curiously, Asher managed to tear his eyes away from the cook long enough to grab his cup and knock back a mouthful; he immediately started coughing, and Ves had to smile cockily at him. At least drinking hard luperci-made vodka with Helotes had prepared her for a more social drinking session.
“How much longer until you think that’s finished?” Asher managed to sputter, and Ves didn’t know if he meant the moonshine or the food.
let the drinkin' begin
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