lucetilogs | Fever Time, Baby!

Entry tags:

Fever Time, Baby!

Who:

luceti (especially those of you who were in the draft).
What: Impromptu house party at House 28!
When: Backdated to 10th June
Where: House 28 (Graces House).
Summary: Pascal is throwing a house party to try and cheer everyone up, especially those of you who returned from the draft and have since filled her journal inbox with sadness and woe. It's B.Y.O.B. and everyone is invited, so bring tasty things to eat and drink! There will beverages both alcoholic and non. There is also a big banana cream cake. It's a casual party for fun and mingling, so no real activities have been planned in advance. Aside from drinking games.
Rating: PG-13, for Party Goodtimes x 13!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bring Brownies You Bake.

[A beat. That is the most logical explanation to these initials so far.

Noticing Marica leans near her, she allows the journal to be seen by her, too. That's when Daisy finds what Pascal intended to write.]

Bring your own beer?

I don't know if beer would go well with brownies. And I like brownies just as much as the next person, but having an entire party's worth of people bringing them seems like overkill, don't you think?

[She lowers her head to look at Marica. Then nods. ]

Some variety would be nice. Maybe muffins. [How do you expect a 7ft tall armored killing machine to do her job is she has no sweets and baked goods to do her job?

But, the subject of beer is one that sparks curiosity.]

... I've never tasted beer before.

[She's never tasted a drop of liquor, for that matter. SPARTAN-II regulations.]

... You know, me neither. It's always seemed... off-limits. Did you wanna try?

[She turns to her journal.]

I never thought about it. [Not only it seemed off-limits. It just never seemed like her kind of thing.] They wouldn't let Spartans drink. Not that it'd do much to me, but...

[Well, this place is also about trying new things, isn't it?

Daisy's fingers grasp one of the ice-cold beers, looking at her.]

Think our CO's will cut some slack?

... CO's?

--Commanding Officer. [She needed to learn to tone down the military language.] Sorry.

My world's Command is not here, and Captain Adell is permissive. So...

Oh. I don't know how the commanding officer in your world was, but in mine... Well, he had a saying: "You don't know until you try." I can't say how much I advocate that message, though.

But just a taste couldn't hurt, right?

[She softly taps Marica's cup with her own.]

Nothing risked, nothing gained.

[And she does.]

[And she drinks it without coughing or shutting her nose only because she had gotten used to drinking and eating even worse things.

It tastes horrible.]

Blegh! What the heck is this?! Did we get the wrong drink?

It has to be the brand. Why else would people drink this?

[Though in over four milennia of human civilization, man would have somehow gained resistance to the taste of something that can intoxicate him.

She looks at the beer, trying to see the brand, and the alcohol content. Her mind makes the mental calculations of her weight, the beer's liquid ounces, and the alcohol content. She'd need seven beers in less than an hour to even feel tipsy. Being optimistic.]

Can't imagine how much I'd need to get me drunk...

Enough to deaden your taste buds, I guess. It always seems like bigger people get drunk slower, so you'd... probably need a lot, I imagine. For better or worse.

I've seen officers drink stronger stuff. [...Enough to hammer squadron down. A common amount when you're a naval CO in a losing war.] I'd need too much.

[More than she'd like, by the taste of it.

Her eyes scan other drinks around the area. Surely other things would taste better? Whiskey is the favourite of the brass, constantly rejected by Spartans back at her world.

Daisy picks the bottle up in curiosity. After a stunned pause, she turns to Marica.

She can smell the ethanol.]

I think I'll stick to what I've got, thanks.

[Daisy looks at Marica. But she understands her reasons to reject it.

Daisy sips from the cup of whiskey. Her eye twitches.

She puts the cup down. Officers do not care about taste so long as they find a way to cope, SPARTAN-023 quickly learns.]

Well, they stand the taste.

[The more alcohol it has, the worse it tastes. Being strong against toxics, Daisy still doesn't understand why people like it. There has to be something kinder to them. Sweeter, preferrably.

...

She sees a compilation of juices surrounding a transparent bottle in cyrillic.]

Are... Are you okay? One sec!

Here!

[As it was mentioned, Daisy has tasted far less pleasant things, and likewise, she has been poisoned before with even worse. It didn't change the fact that cup tasted like somebody polluted the water and let the remains to rot in the sun.

Daisy takes the cup, and drinks from with patience. She blinks.]

This isn't bad.

[In Spartan language, and Daisy having a supressed sweet tooth, it means it tastes rather good.]

Either you have taste buds of steel or you've really been working on your poker face...

Both of them. [MREs.] I've had worse things.

[Daisy offers a cup of the punch she was given. She could smell the alcohol of it, but strangely... It actually improved the taste.]

This one's decent.

Are you sure? Well, here goes nothing.

Hey, not bad. Sweet, but with a certain kick to it.

[Marica also noticed the "kick", but still liked the flavor. Daisy sniffes her cup, trying to see what else was there - instinct and training to see if something would be poisoned.]

...Yeah [She nods to herself.] This one also has alcohol.

[A beat. Daisy looks at Marica, wondering how much would she be able to take. The taller girl then shrugs as she drinks again. They both liked the taste, no?]

I figured... Guess you gotta be careful about what people are putting in the drinks.

Hey, did you say that you were making brownies?

[Having no experience with alcohol, but knowing the effects they cause on the human body, Daisy drinks bigger doses... Which would hardly have any effect on her, by the looks of it.]

... Just something crazy I agreed with a friend. [Daisy's expressions do not change much, but she blushes at the idea of it.] There is no money in Luceti, so we're going to make a poker night betting on baked goods.

[...It make sense in context. She chews one of the chips, then remembering how little taste and nutritional value they had.]

Don't know if you'd want to come.

Is that all right? I wouldn't be intruding?

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