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

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

Booze? You just said the magic word. It didn't matter that Jim Raynor had never heard of this holiday, he wasn't going to pass up a chance to have the alcohol he'd been denied since he'd gotten on this damned ship.

"If y'all are offering, I ain't the type to turn a drink down, son."

[st-veritas.livejournal.com]

"Well, fuck, then join up and drink!" And Jim's got a beaker full of nice, clear, god-knows-what pushed at him by an enthusiastic Connor.

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

"You're too kind." Jim takes the beaker and doesn't bother to smell or examine it - it's been too damn long since he's had a drink - before kicking it back. It packs a wallop, but Jim Raynor's a man who can handle his liquor.

"One hell of a kick," he nods appreciatively with a genuine grin as he hands the beaker back. "Where you boys find somethin' like this, anyway?"

[st-veritas.livejournal.com]

"That's homemade, that is. Ma's recipe-- more or less, really. Been drinkin' it since we was little." He grins widely.

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

"Must be doin' yer momma proud, then." Jim chuckles before extending a rough hand. "Jim Raynor."

[st-veritas.livejournal.com]

"I'm Connor Macmanus-- my idiot little brother's Murphy." Connor shakes his hand. "And our ma is fuckin' proud of everything we do, obviously."

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

"A pleasure to meet the both of you boys, then, and I'm sure she is." Jim pauses for a moment. "So what holiday did you say this was, again? Don't think I'm familiar with it."

[st-veritas.livejournal.com]

"Saint Paddy's-- 'S mostly for drinkin' and shouting about how you're Irish, anymore. 'Least, in anywhere but Ireland it is." Connor's grinning lop-sidedly.

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

"Can't say I've ever heard of the place," he admits with a shrug. "...Old Earth, then?"

[st-veritas.livejournal.com]

"..Probably." Connor shrugs. "Don't matter, can't tell the day anyway."

[spacecowboyjim.livejournal.com]

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Ain't that the truth. Well, good to see you boys havin' a little fun. And good to see that someone's found a way to properly wet your whistle 'round these parts."