((Aphartimed to vague point, pre-Deek-departure. . .))

[dead_comrade]

There is alcohol.

There is enough to get three people under the table, even if two have very good constitutions.

There were two invites given out.

There's a bioweapon hanging out in his room, waiting for company.

There is, indeed, alcohol.

Stop in?

Comments

[somebodysdog]

Alcohol.

Honest-to-gods professionally distilled doesn't-burn-your-mouth-too-much alcohol.

Angua right now feels she needs it.

So she's pretty prompt up there, really.

[jediatemybrain]

Decan pretty much feels the same way.

But he tripped coming down the stairs so he arrives a few seconds after Angua.

Scrape on the arm for being in a hurry? Totally worth it.

[dead_comrade]

Krauser glances down at the nearest bottle of potent unconsciousness, and is glad it's there.

"Angua. Decan." He moves back to let them in. It's bare, it's clean, and it's nondescript. He's been redecorating. "Sorry this couldn't happen earlier. Rosters have gotten tight. We're not always free at once."

[somebodysdog]

And some people have children and boyfriends to look after as well.

But she's shaking her head as she comes in, giving the place the requisite look around. "It's OK. The job's suddenly got really hectic. Murders, attempted murders. Interrogations. It's like being at home again."

Which means she really needs a drink.