03-22-2010, 07:38 PM
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Not weird at all! Oh gosh, I wrote "palate" when I meant "palette" in my last reply. 300+  Kansas didn't recognize the smell of the alcohol; he exclusively knew that it was alcohol. He'd only ever drank wine, whose smell was fruity, strong and unmistakable for what it was. He did not enjoy the taste of wine, only the burning feeling as it coated his mouth and ran down his throat, into his belly. He liked the simplicity of his thoughts afterward, the relaxed comfort he felt. After drinking with Savina and enjoying the time he'd spent slightly tipsy, the smell of the stranger's beverage in this cellar had him curious and perhaps a bit hopeful that he could partake. The older man was not surprised when his pale blue eyes saw Kansas, and the boy hadn't expected him to be, as he purposefully hadn't made his entrance silent. Relief calmed him when he saw that the gray werewolf was smiling in a kind manner, tipping the bottle of rum (that was its name, then) in his direction. The boy hesitated, thinking of his promise, a promise he didn't wish to break. But he took the bottle awkwardly in his hand, where it hung in his uncertain grip. "Oh," he said quietly. Would it be reckless? Immature? Disloyal? He was aware now that his mate had smoked marijuana with a man he did not know; perhaps taking a few swigs of this rum wouldn't harm anything. "Thank you." He put the bottle to his lips and drank, relishing the warming feeling of the alcohol. He was always more open when he had a substance in him, be it pot or booze. Maybe he could gain a friend today, which would be more valuable to him than firewood or any scavenged thing in the house. "My name is Kansas... Do you, uh, live here?" he drank again and handed the bottle back to the older wolf, wiping his mouth against his other arm. |