My name is Max. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadwarrior) wrote2016-10-07 12:29 pm
theroadwarrior) wrote2016-10-07 12:29 pm
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etraya
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(Good fuckin' luck.)
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(Good fuckin' luck.)
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[He looks at it, studies the ingredients. You don't get things with ingredients like this anymore; a lot of it would sound fake to anyone out there. Just imagining a knobheaded war boy trying to translate...]
Water's nothing like it, though. Haven't tried it yet? [He pulls the tab; the hissing sound conjures a series of blurry memories. As he pushes it toward her, he speaks with a touch of amusement:] Not poisonous.
[He knows well enough what her thought process was.]
kombuchagirlmeme.jpeg
You want me to drink it?
[ Even if he affirms it's not poison. She opened one before. It hissed and fizzed. It was brown! It looks like water she's scooped out of the most rank mud puddle she could find on a good day.
She takes the can from him, fingers grasping around it while she lifts it to her nose. She sniffs at it suspiciously, the fizz hitting her nose strangely. Cautiously, she takes a sip, her mouth still pulled into a near grimace as she does. Taunting someone into eating or drinking something rancid is among the easiest and most popular entertainment available to the Black Thumbs and War Boys, so she's really trusting Max on this. ]
Mmn— [ she pulls away quickly with a mildly offended noise. Her face scrunches, considering, like she can't even really identify the flavor. Her tongue roves over her teeth, the odd flavor coming with a strange feeling. ]
It's so sweet. I feel like my teeth are gonna fall out.
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He takes the can and swallows down a few swigs, then hums.]
Mm. People used to like how it burned.
[Not unlike moonshine, but, well. Moonshine is harder to keep down.]
Any back home would be flat now. No bubbles. Tastes much worse then.
[Is this Max admitting he has drank really, really old sodapop?
Uh. Yeah.]
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And then she huffs. Old worlders, they didn't have enough adrenaline in their day to day they had to microdose drinking acid. She'd say she doesn't get it like the garage rats wouldn't get bored enough to try licking batteries or touching live wires just to feel the spark of something.
She takes the can back for a second. There's a whole pack of them, she realizes belatedly, that they could each have their own, but sharing a limited ration just feels so much more embedded into how she operates it doesn't even occur to her.
She takes a bigger drink this time, not as surprised by it. The carbonation makes her burp, which she does naturally and without concern or any concept of why it might be impolite as she passes the can back to him. ]
Yeah but when all you've got is dirty Aqua Cola and mother's milk that's turned rancid, can't say I'd turn it down.
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Max will sign that decree, but that's probably not a surprise.
As he takes another swig, he toys with the can absently between his fingertips. The two healed fingers that the wheel of the war rig had crushed don't quite bend the same way the rest of them do, but that's to be expected. Parts of you stop working, and it's a sign that you're long-lasting, that you made it where you are with a lot of stubbornness and grit. It's easy to lose track of all the marks you get, the patches of hair you no longer have thanks to the scars ricochetting bullets leave.
But then suddenly, they're in a normal apartment kitchenette, drinking brand new cans of soda.
It's bizarre.]
Lot of different kinds, too. Rainbows of flavors.
Should see the long list of options at the diner.