[ juno doesn't sip the drink experimentally. we knock this back like fools! juno's had some strong booze in his day - paint-thinner quality, whatever is around - but this is... well it's heated and pleasant. sharp, and smooth. it's whiskey, but it's got some kind of namesake-driven fiery tinge to it that when he pulls the glass from his lips, he's pressing them together still just to savor the remnants of it. the liquid in the glass sways just a little bit as he looks down at it, gives the cup a little swirl.
when he looks up from the drink, nick is there with her hands spread, waiting for a response. ]
Not bad, [ he says, leaning back on his stool, feigning a contemplative look, chin stroke and all. ] I give it aaaaaaaaaaa... seven out of ten.
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when he looks up from the drink, nick is there with her hands spread, waiting for a response. ]
Not bad, [ he says, leaning back on his stool, feigning a contemplative look, chin stroke and all. ] I give it aaaaaaaaaaa... seven out of ten.