"Never heard of Venti, have you?" Alex mutters as he eyes the small cups, holding a sip of coffee, barely. The smell simmers and torn between the coffee and the alcohol, in glasses no-one should own and people only break when they are too drunk to give a care, he goes for the alcohol first and leaves the coffee to waft steam on the table.
Buried into the couch, brandy cradled in his hand and lifted to his lips he sips steadily, not setting down the glass, eyeing Cesare through the glass with one eye and over the rim with the other, distorting facial features to abstract paintings, broken people.
Mouth full of brandy he swallows, leans his head to the couch. "Someone's idea of a joke?" He shrugs. "Miracle from that god of yours that dressed you up in pink panties? Fucked if I know."
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Date: 2008-12-31 05:27 am (UTC)Buried into the couch, brandy cradled in his hand and lifted to his lips he sips steadily, not setting down the glass, eyeing Cesare through the glass with one eye and over the rim with the other, distorting facial features to abstract paintings, broken people.
Mouth full of brandy he swallows, leans his head to the couch. "Someone's idea of a joke?" He shrugs. "Miracle from that god of yours that dressed you up in pink panties? Fucked if I know."