[Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/35foN5l.jpeg[/img][/center] [color=darkgray]Come one, come all. A few of the B-52s disappeared off the counter, with nary a word, from opportunists. Thankful to take a free drink with no cost, no effort and no small talk. But Bax didn’t mind. He was just warming up, after all. The bass in his head beat hard, and he kept bobbing his head to an unheard rhythm. [color=04ed42]“Damn… where did you learn to serve like that?”[/color] One decided to break the ice. Ironic, since he hadn’t used any. He shrugged, but never lost tempo. Neither of the music in his head, nor momentum from his concoctions. [color=firebrick]“Always could. Don’t get much time with a self serve bar, though.”[/color] Because the few instances where he had, the parties had turned to… …well, he had to keep moving. His hand swung in percussive beat to the music, as he continued. He knocked back the mead, his eyebrows raised at the impressive brewmanship. As the taste swirled across his palette, possibilities revealed themselves as to complementary flavours. It stood on its own feet as a mead as well, which was impressive – but the possibilities of a unique experience for party-goers, with a cocktail which used it as a base, personalising the night. Giving these people a moment, a taste, a fulfilled desire that would stand in time. Connecting these people with the man who had been so selfless as to bring the bottle, the product of his own efforts, himself? Such a prospect was irresistible. His head bobbed, merlot eyes flickered behind the spring green paint which crossed his face. He had it, he was sure… [color=66356a]“Seriously, you’re a beast,”[/color] The shots were attracting a crowd, and the crowd was attracting interest in himself. A blond woman sidled up to the bar, and continued the red headed man’s discourse. She passed on the few remaining B-52 shots on the bar and called for her own custom request. An open palm, a strong wrist and forearms resting on his bar. [color=66356a]“Alright, surprise me.”[/color] Bax’s smile broadened. Someone who was open to discovering what they wanted, or rather new what she didn’t want – having passed on the sweeter creamy B-52 crème liqeur based shots. A challenge. His hands clapped together excitedly behind the bar. An opportunity to divine desire and taste. He quickly discounted the ‘cheating’ method, as her body language immediately shut down any interest in wanting him to ‘learn more from unspoken means’ with her. Another glance at taut, muscular forearms. Possibly with ultraviolence. So the puzzle required its own deduction. Powerful, blunt, no interest in wasted words or saccharine sweetness. [i]‘You’re telling yourself you want something strong, or something bitter…’[/i] Bax told himself. [color=87e3ff]"Hey, bar-man,"[/color] They greeted. [color=87e3ff]"What's a fella gotta do around here to get some water around here?"[/color] Bax flicked a bottle of water from below the bar with a toe drag, and a quick flick to his hands. Wanting to waste no more time with… ugh… water, than he had to, when real fun was at hand. He slid it down the bar to the order with the mop of hair. His effort to withhold a grunt of disapproval, constituting immaculate customer service in his eyes. [i]‘But beer or bourbon… that’s a trap. Strength and flavour.’[/i] With a flicker of merlot eyes, and a broadened smirk of confidence, [color=firebrick]“I think I gotcha.”[/color] He turned and pulled three rums and multiple liquers. Syrups, juice and fruit garnish. [color=firebrick] “You, I’m gonna make you something special. Tell me if I got you wrong, but I think this will hit right…”[/color] She seemed to tense, seeing how much he grabbed presumably anticipating a long wait, but with how quickly he worked, it didn’t justify the brief agitation. Then a bottle of the regular mead. He pulled a cocktail shaker and a regular tumbler. Ice, rum, coconut rum, fruit juices, grenadine and banana syrups, and 151 proof rum. He started shaking the cocktail with his left, whilst prepping layering of a tumbler glass with his right. Thick white cacao liqeur, kahlua, banana syrup and a comfortable layer of mead. He sped up the shake with his left as he felt less resistance and rattle from ice. He concentrated as he poured a layer from the shaker, supported with a spoon, using his powers to assist in not breaching the surface tension of any of the layers as it somehow held together, seemingly defying physics to not collapse upon itself. With a single cut he sliced pineapple and added it to the side of the glass. Satisfied with his work he slid the glass over. [color=firebrick] “The cocktail mix was mostly a Hawaiian hammer, but layered into a baby… and it should work with the straight mead from that guy over there as a foundation.”[/color] [color=firebrick]“Call it a… Honey Baby Hammer. Tell me how that goes for you.”[/color] More began to gather, and the tense silence would have suggested significant pressure of leaving the blonde woman any less than pleased… if Baxter were the kind of person who could make sense of that. Instead he grinned like an idiot, and went back to making other drinks. Another woman had helped herself to malibu and coke, further highlighting how much he’d been slacking, concentrating on the blonde woman’s drink. But he’d do it all over. He loved the challenge. [/color] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Nate, Trinity, Marlen [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Forest and Veronica [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]