Partial credit, [he says, for the drink's name. Red yes, Desert no, but effective enough? Sure. He's a split-second late to move his glass to meet Viktor's for that clink, so it's a little louder than it should be; just another one of those normal living people things he isn't used to anymore. This drink he sips more readily than the sweetmilk, if only because he knows what to expect, but his gaze lingers on Viktor over the rim of the glass, to see what he thinks of it.
Ah, and it's a grand success, so he'll allow himself a moment to feel smug and accomplished about that. He's doing so good at this.]
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Ah, and it's a grand success, so he'll allow himself a moment to feel smug and accomplished about that. He's doing so good at this.]
I thought you might. Try the cherry.