Out of Character:
Closed to BlackandBlueEyes. For background on how Josh and Madison met check out Slow Ride on the Easy Train.


Two months prior, at Dirks Estate

Amber whisky poured from the bottle in a long, thin stream. I filled the tumbler halfway then re-corked the bottle. Reached behind me and placed it blindly on the shelf. It clinked off a few similar glass flagons, a cacaphony of off-pitch notes that echoed within the wooden cupboard. I smiled as I squeezed a fresh lime over the drink, adding a few drops of citrus to the strong drink. I loved the smell of whisky, rising from a glass as I swirled it in my hand. I reminded me of my father, a bear of a man lounging in his easy chair, omnipresent glass of rye cluthedin one powerful hand. Silently, I toasted to his memory and sipped the potent elixir. Heat seemed to blaze from my stomach to the top of my head, a pleasant sensation. One can never be alone with a good bottle of whisky.

The wine cellar of the Dirks Estate was a friendly place, even when I occupied it alone. Finely crafted wooden tables dotted the oaken floor in no particular pattern, chairs upturned on top of them. The bar occupied an entire corner, a broad polished counter lined with four identical stools. I sat on the lone stool behind the bar. An old habit my father had drilled into my head made me sit with my back to a wall, no matter what. Besides, I liked being within easy reach of the shelves that held bottles and bottles of booze. On the occasional time that more than a few members of Imperial occupied the estate I enjoyed playing bartender. It facilitated the process of getting to know my warriors better, without the awkwardness of formal interviews.

I sipped the drink and sighed, hundred proof breath rushing past my lips. As good a companion as the bottle made, I wished I had someone to talk to.

The mansion answered my thoughts with the sudden patter of light footfalls on the staircase. My ears twitched, honing in on the sound. Far too dainty for a man. I smiled, thinking of Skie Nito. The succubae had shared drinks with me often in that very room. Conversing with a moontae never failed to be entertaining. Without looking I reached backwards and pulled a clean tumbler from the lower shelf. Rolled it around my hand then plunked it onto the counter with a resolute thud. The footsteps had almost reached the bottom of the staircase.

"May I fix you a drink?"

My voice reverbrated off the basement walls like a drum, filling the torchlit interior with life. I couldn't help but feel cheerful.

"Finally, some decent company."