[ Damn. Liem's really not in a good place, huh. Gen raises an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically sarcastic response he gets, then -- kneejerk, without really thinking -- responds with an equally dry: ]
Usually takes a bit more than that [ jerking his head towards the cups laid on the table ] to get me feeling shitty in the morning.
[ Oh, the benefits of being young, huge, and in possession of a healthier liver than he really deserves. (Let's not talk about his crispy lungs.)
Still, as shitty as he is, Gen isn't all mindless cruelty. And there's nothing particularly enticing about the prospects of kicking a guy when he's already down -- especially not when Liem is looking particularly pathetic today, between the alcohol and the sickly-anime-mom-coughs. Though he'd been fixing a long stare on Liem, Gen looks aside when the waiter brings him his drink (a nice, strong, but no-frills beer, Liem might be happy to note; nothing that'll break the bank for him) and takes a sip before leaning forward to place it on the table alongside Liem's many empties. It's at a deadpan when he asks -- ]
What's the occasion, then.
[ He can guess, of course. The days stuck in that miserable chamber hadn't treated anyone particularly kindly, and he knows Liem probably has his own demons he'd been forced to face down there. But he's never had much practice being frank, being gentle -- and so Gen prods, instead. Surely Liem will talk if he's poked hard enough. ]
Figured a guy like you would go someplace way more prissy. Someplace with the same vibe as those cooking classes of yours. Just wanted to try something different, hm? [ As if. ]
no subject
Usually takes a bit more than that [ jerking his head towards the cups laid on the table ] to get me feeling shitty in the morning.
[ Oh, the benefits of being young, huge, and in possession of a healthier liver than he really deserves. (Let's not talk about his crispy lungs.)
Still, as shitty as he is, Gen isn't all mindless cruelty. And there's nothing particularly enticing about the prospects of kicking a guy when he's already down -- especially not when Liem is looking particularly pathetic today, between the alcohol and the sickly-anime-mom-coughs. Though he'd been fixing a long stare on Liem, Gen looks aside when the waiter brings him his drink (a nice, strong, but no-frills beer, Liem might be happy to note; nothing that'll break the bank for him) and takes a sip before leaning forward to place it on the table alongside Liem's many empties. It's at a deadpan when he asks -- ]
What's the occasion, then.
[ He can guess, of course. The days stuck in that miserable chamber hadn't treated anyone particularly kindly, and he knows Liem probably has his own demons he'd been forced to face down there. But he's never had much practice being frank, being gentle -- and so Gen prods, instead. Surely Liem will talk if he's poked hard enough. ]
Figured a guy like you would go someplace way more prissy. Someplace with the same vibe as those cooking classes of yours. Just wanted to try something different, hm? [ As if. ]