Glory be to Paddy, but they're drinkin' it straight. [OPEN, R for Cussing]

[st-aequitas.livejournal.com]

Earlier, somewhere in the Vatican's outbuildings:
Carefully, Murphy poured a little of the precious liquid into a dish, then placed the bottle far, far away. He nodded to his brother who then, with great ceremony (and from a safe distance) lit a match and tossed it in.

The flame burnt fast, bright, and blue.

The twins grinned.

******

The next flame burnt a decidedly different color, and distinctly higher. The boys jumped back, laughed, and Murphy pointed at his twin.

"You're trying it first!"



Now, nearly everywhere:
Connor and Murphy paraded through the city, past the library, the sensoriums, through the sleeping quarters, winding their way to the cafeteria. The two, who had been strangely difficult to pin down lately, were now laughing, chanting, and banging on pots they'd scrounged from somewhere. They'd each a large jug or two slung on make-shift straps over their shoulders, and their chant seemed to go something like this:

"Two Irishmen, two Irishmen were digging in a ditch,
one called the other a dirty son of a
Peter Murphy, Peter Murphy, sitting on a dock;
along came a bumblebee and stung him on the
cocktail, ginger ale, five cents a glass.
If ya do not like it, ya can ram it up your--
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
If you're hit with a pail of shit, PLEASE CLOSE YOUR EYES!"

Between rounds of it, they were sipping from flasks and shouting "Come on, it's fuckin' Saint Paddy's Day! Free drinks in the mess! Get your arses in there with yer fags put out, or we're fucking partying without ya!"


[ooc note]

Comments

[reaverkiller.livejournal.com]

It was a party. There was no singing and dancing yet, but the alcohol was sure to fix that eventually. River would be more than happy to dance if someone provided music. But until then, the Captain currently wasn't with her, and her brother wasn't around at all, and there was alcohol.

She'd never tried alcohol before.

"I'd like some," she told the twins in a perfect Irish accent. It was best to get into the spirit of the holiday, after all.

[st-aequitas.livejournal.com]

The twins have a bit of a mental checklist, when it comes to the crew members, and who gets what amount of alcohol.

Having never met River before, and not knowing of her, Murphy cares about only one thing; she's apparently Irish, and so she gets a full serving poured into her beaker, albeit of the weaker stuff.

He's not sure how old she is, after all.

"There ya are, miss. Drink up."

[reaverkiller.livejournal.com]

Seventeen probably wasn't old enough on most worlds, but if they weren't going to ask, River wasn't going to tell. She grins at the offering of a full beaker and takes it with thanks.

Taking a cautious sip, she's a bit surprised by the unique burn of it, and the taste that could easily be described as awful. It makes her cough too, and she has to stop herself from grimacing, but as the drink settles, she discovers she likes the pleasant warmth spreading through her veins. She takes a larger sip the second time around. It still doesn't taste great, but she doesn't have to cough again. She wonders if it'll taste like heaven by the time she gets to the bottom of the mug.

[st-aequitas.livejournal.com]

Murphy watched her and grinned. "This your first taste of the real stuff?"

[reaverkiller.livejournal.com]

River grins back. She keeps the Irish accent when she speaks, determined to test how intoxicated she has to get before she can't hold it anymore. "My brother never let me have any. Captain won't either if he sees me." She scans the room dramatically for effect, as if the man could pop up at any moment and snatch the mug from her grasp.

[st-aequitas.livejournal.com]

"But that's a fucking crime!" Murphy cries, and he means it. He throws a companionable arm across her shoulders. "Don't you fucking worry. Me'n Connor'll stand up for ya. You're plenty old, ain't no one got the right to refuse ya a drink when you fucking well want one."

[reaverkiller.livejournal.com]

"They can be a little overprotective," River defends lightly, but she takes a big gulp in agreement too. She decides she likes Murphy, and by default that means she likes Connor, because she knows they're inseparable. But that leaves the twins at a disadvantage, because the twins don't know much about her. Better fix that.

"I'm River," she introduces. "I'm not really Irish, it's just for the occasion." She drops the accent during the last half of the sentence to prove it.

[st-aequitas.livejournal.com]

"Aren't you, now?" Murphy is a little surprised, but doesn't mind too much. "Well, you're in luck. Because everyone's Irish today. You're just a whole fuck-ton better at it than most of these sorry bastards."