america's pastime, uniting people on warm summer days

[androidvictoriam]

Who: Danse, Deacon, open to everyone
What: Free homemade booze and light conversation
When: Late August/early September
Where: The Hubcap bar
Warnings: Drinking, nothing else at the moment


Throughout the past month or so, there's been a project in the works in the convoy kitchen, taking up space in the fridge and on the countertops, with little explanation other than a neat and sternly-worded label describing it as alcoholic and instructing people not to touch it. If anyone has done so in spite of the note, it hasn't impacted the end product, which is now lined up along the bartop in a few salvaged and carefully-washed bottles.

Also at the bar, in casual periodic shifts or occasionally together, are the two guys responsible for this. Their world may not have any such thing as food safety regulations, and everything consumable there tends to come with a light-to-moderate seasoning of radiation contamination, but neither of them thinks this should disqualify them from sharing the fruits of their labor with the rest of the convoy. (Although the further under eighteen you might look, the more suspiciously Danse will squint at you before pouring a sample. Might want to wait until Deacon is at the bar instead and impress him with a perfectly-crafted lie.)

Come enjoy some passably-decent fruit brandy and have a chat!

Comments

[solitarysoul]

Levi occasionally ducks into the bar to grab himself something, but he doesn't know how to mix drinks so when he passes by this time and sees someone at it he pauses. They wouldn't be behind the bar if they didn't mean to tend it, right? Daan had stepped behind the bar at PRHVL Bop and he had been 100% ready to serve drinks.

So he bellies up to the bar with a smile. "You got any specials?"

[androidvictoriam]

"Only if you don't need steady aim for anything in the next couple hours." The warning is in good-natured jest for once rather than stern, because even if Danse does find himself unconsciously thinking of himself as Levi's CO sometimes, they're all at leisure right now. And he isn't exactly sure how old Levi is, but if he's old enough to have served a five-year tour of duty, he's old enough for some fortified cider.

"Try this. My friend and I could use the feedback." He pours Levi a little of the hooch and slides it over. It's strong, sweet, and maybe a little heavy on the spice blend.

[solitarysoul]

Levi thinks of him almost as a CO anyway.
"Nah, I think I'm due a break even if only of a few hours." He takes a seat and grabs the drink, swirling it around a bit before taking a sip. "...huh. Don't think I've had this before."

[androidvictoriam]

"Neither have I, technically speaking. The forage available here isn't like any fruit I've ever had before, but I don't know whether that's because it's alien or because anything back home that used to resemble it is mutated beyond recognition now." It's possible that it can be two things.

"I don't suppose you know what an apple is supposed to taste like."

[solitarysoul]

Mutated plants? The only mutations he knows about are the ones he saw in Termina, so he can't help but wonder if any of those plants attack people.

"Yeah...I'm not sure I can describe a taste. But the ones I've seen here don't taste like apples, usually like some other fruit or something."

[androidvictoriam]

"Well, that's good to know. Disappointing, though. I had a feeling I probably wasn't getting the authentic pre-war culinary experience."

Of all the things Danse would love to experience that existed before the bombs, fresh apples are not really that high on the list, but it would have been nice.

[solitarysoul]

"If we ever end up finding something that tastes like what I remember it tasting like I'll let you know." He takes a drink, thinking for a moment.

"I wonder if that's normal for here, though. Or something with that impact or whatever fucked up plants too."

[androidvictoriam]

"Let's watch the language." At another time, this might be more sincerely stern, but off the clock and without a 'soldier' appended to it, Danse is mostly kidding.

"I think all this business with the moon has affected the whole landscape more than we even realize. I'm no researcher, but I'm glad we've got some people keeping the database updated so I can be sure this stuff won't poison anyone. I'm not sure we can rely on accounts of what might have been safe to eat beforehand."

[solitarysoul]

Levi raises an eyebrow at the warning, not sure if he should be taking it seriously or not.

"I mean it must have. I find it hard to believe that places like the weird gravity area existed before everything went to hell." ...Does that count as language? 'Everything went to heck' is pretty stupid.

[propatriamori]

The note hasn't deterred Edward, because he can't read. Fortunately, he's a polite Englishman and hasn't messed with it, since it would be rude to tinker with what is obviously some kind of project.

He would appreciate the stern wording, though.

After a long, dusty day with the convoy, Edward heads to the bar, hoping that someone has perhaps unearthed a bottle of wine somewhere. When he enters, he's nearly bowled over by the heady stink of bathtub hooch.

"It smells like a London public house in here." Please note, that isn't a complaint, as evidenced by how Edward approaches the bar. "Is this something new?"

[facethefacts]

"Is that good or bad? I've never been to one." Deacon replies blandly from behind the bar, where he's slumped over crookedly on a stool he's dragged there with a weird little puzzle book he'd plucked from the register of the last abandoned pitstop they'd made. The pages are brown at the edges, but the text inside is still readable, and Deacon needed a hobby that didn't involve spying on everyone in the convoy as if they were his own personal soap opera.

"Uhhh, guess so. It's moonshine made from fruit. I'm pretty sure they were apples, but I'd never seen one in person before," he answers, not moving from where he's perched.

"You can try some if you want. Hey, real quick... what's a six-letter word for 'Make more subtle'?" he asks, after chewing on his pen for a moment. He'll grab Edward a glass in a moment, but this one's been giving him a headache.

I absolutely googled this crossword clue

[propatriamori]

"It's familiar." Which is, in this world, a compliment in and of itself. Edward comes up to the bar and slides onto one of the stools.

"Do you come from somewhere without apple trees?" A few weeks ago, that idea would have been shocking to Edward, but now, he's starting to get more used to it. There are other worlds than the one he knows, and it's possible some of them might not have apple trees.

He thinks on the crossword clue for a moment. "Would rarefy fit?"

I mean I couldn't have guessed it

[facethefacts]

"Mmn," Deacon hums solemnly, brow furrowed above dark shades. "Kind of. They're all mutated... so really it's kind of a whole different fruit. Mutfruit, literally."

Deacon's expression lights up, penning in the word and nodding. He sets the book aside and grins at his company, then grabs an empty glass and sets it on the bar. "Thanks, pal," he replies, reaching for one of the jars he's set on the bar and twisting it open. He starts to poura bit into the glass. "So this is a first try at home-brewing," he says more officially, pushing the glass toward Edward, "I went a bit ape shit with the spices, admittedly, but tell me what you think needs tweaking for the next batch."

[propatriamori]

Edward isn't terribly surprised by Deacon's answer. His vibrations have that shimmery look that Edward is starting to associate with The Final War World, where Danse, Len, and Arcade live. So when Deacon mentions mutated fruit and not having seen an apple before, he makes the tenuous connection.

"Of course, happy to help." He lifts the glass he's been given in a small salute, then takes a sip. He manages to not cough immediately, but it's a near thing.

"You made it powerful, that's for certain." Now that he knows what he's in for, Edward takes another sip. "It tastes like... like the blend you'd use in mulled wine at the holidays. Just stronger."

[facethefacts]

"Powerful sounds like a good thing, yeah? Takes less of it to get a person drunk. That's what I call rations-friendly booze." He claps his hands together proudly, chuckling as he folds his arms across his chest and waits for the full reaction.

"Sounds yummy. I'd say that's a win, unless you're about to tell me mulled wine is repulsive. Anyway, you can have as much as you'd like. as long as you keep feeding me crossword answers."

[propatriamori]

"Never let it be said that I complained about powerful alcohol." Edward tilts the glass and takes another sip. He noticed the comment about rations, but he keeps it to himself for now.

"No, mulled wine is lovely. Have you tried warming this up and serving it hot?" He associates spiced alcohol with winter and cold weather, hence drinking it warm. "And I'm happy to keep helping you with your crossword."

He offers a hand across the bar. "Edward Courtenay. I don't believe we've met yet."

[facethefacts]

"Oh, of course not!" Deacon laughs at that quip about the potency of the drink. As long as its tolerable, he thinks the strength is a win. The suggestion to heat it piques his interest and he gives Edward an intrigued smile.

"Hey, there's an idea..." he remarks, little cogs turning in his brain. "I mean, I haven't yet, but we should totally give it a shot."

"No, I think I'd remember you. I'm Colt."

[warneverchanged]

"So this has what you've been up to..." Nora says as she walks into the bar. She'd noticed them wandering off at times, but hadn't followed, she'd been busy trying to do some repairs on her little truck. And, you know, make it able to run smoothly while carrying more weight (read: scrap).

"Been making our own Convoy Moonshine?"

[facethefacts]

"A man's gotta have a hobby," Deacon replies easily, fetching her a glass without hesitation. "I know you'll tell me if it's awful..."

He pours her a shot to taste, but leaves the jar open between them in case she wants more. It's made with apples, and all the cozy spices Deacon could get his grubby little hands on.

[warneverchanged]

"Definitely. But if I wake up in a random part of the convoy, I'm vetoing it completely."

She takes the shot, before looking at the glass and setting it down.

"It's not bad. Apple pie moonshine? Definitely better than that Nukashine stuff."

[androidvictoriam]

"I've heard rumors about that stuff." Danse has caught only the tail end of this conversation, returning from the kitchen area with a fresh bucket of ice, but he already sounds uncharacteristically upbeat and intrigued. They do like their booze up on the Prydwen.

"There was an initiate we recruited whose family came from...I want to say somewhere in West Virginia." Danse's knowledge of West Virginia comes largely from John Denver lyrics, but at least he knows where it used to be.

"She used to tell us local stories about it, but we all thought she was exaggerating. Some of the company kept trying to recreate the recipe, but they could never get it that strong, so we thought it was a myth."

[warneverchanged]

"Sounds right. Someone told me it was originally from South of the Commonwealth. I ran into a tiny settlement somewhere and the family had part of a bottle left. They said it was bartered for supplies months before." She reaches for the bottle of moonshine and pours another drink.

"I'm not sure if it was pure or not, but man, two shots of that and I woke up near Sanctuary Hills, luckily, in some scrap shopping cart. That was an interesting walk of shame."

[facethefacts]

"Two shots?" Deacon whistles as if he's impressed. He's teasing, obviously. "I guess that's what happens to your tolerance when you're on ice for a couple hundred years."

Apparently, his confidence when it comes to downing Nuka-Shine is unwavering. Or at least that's the play.

"The last time I got wasted on Nuka-Shine, I apparently entered a game of strip poker and won. The weird part is, I remember being the only one naked."

[warneverchanged]

"Yeah, yeah. Quiet." She laughs though, setting her glass back down. "I was frozen for 200ish years, and before that, I had a baby. So I wasn't drinking much then either. That stuff isn't like what existed before the War anyway."

She goes to stand up, setting her hand on the counter before falling forward through it. She scowls, pulling her hand out.

"Forgot I can do that. And it's harder to control with alcohol." She looks up at Deacon. "Yeah, I know. Lightweight."

[facethefacts]

Deacon's eyebrows rise above his glasses and his hands instinctively shoot out to grab her and stop her from falling, not really considering the fact that she might phaze through him, too.

"It was one shot, buddy!" he cackles, "It'll probably take me a few more before I start going all fuzzy."

Literally and figuratively, to be clear. Deacon doesn't just get fuzzy in the head, anymore. This world's made the whole face-swapping master-of-disguise thing more convenient, starting with his visage going blurry altogether. He hasn't really figured out how to control that, either.