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Ta kill ya (open to anyone at Caritas)
"Anything. As long as it's not whiskey. How about...that." Amelia pointed at a bottle at random. It was something she couldn't pronounce, and she knew for a fact she had never tried it before. The bartender asked her if she wanted a margarita, or straight up. She had no idea what a margarita was, and figured her best bet was to find out if she even liked the alcohol before mixing it with something, so she went with the straight up. The bartender filled a shot glass, placing it in front of her, following it up with a salt shaker and a small dish of lime slices.
Amelia eyed the salt and limes in confusion. Was she supposed to put those in the shot? Not wanting to appear completely inept, she smiled at the bartender. "Can I get you one?" She wondered if his smile was simple acknowledgement of the offer, or if he already suspected she had no clue what to do with it. If he knew, he had the decency to pretend not to notice as he slowly went through the maneuvers of licking his hand and sprinkling the salt on it, then waited for her to do the same as he took the shot in his hand.
He licked his hand? Amelia could think of little that could be more disgusting and unsanitary at the moment. It was something she NEVER would have done before. Which meant it was exactly what she was going to do now. Following the bartender's lead, she sprinkled the salt, then held the glass up as if to toast.
"Ready?" asked the bartender. "Lick, drink, bite." Amelia followed him in near unison, licking the salt and slamming back the shot. It caught her breath, but as soon as she put the lime slice in her mouth, the sensation seemed to ebb.
"Mmmmm. That's good! I'll have another, please."
"Careful with that. It'll get to you fast. There's a reason they call it 'Ta Kill Ya.'"
Amelia nodded, not really listening, or caring. She had always been able to hold her whiskey fairly well. How bad could it be? The bartender, for his part, declined her offer of another, apologizing that he was on duty, and had to keep a clear head.
This time, as she lifted the glass to drink, she mumbled to herself bitterly, "Here's to you, Elizabeth Peters."
Amelia eyed the salt and limes in confusion. Was she supposed to put those in the shot? Not wanting to appear completely inept, she smiled at the bartender. "Can I get you one?" She wondered if his smile was simple acknowledgement of the offer, or if he already suspected she had no clue what to do with it. If he knew, he had the decency to pretend not to notice as he slowly went through the maneuvers of licking his hand and sprinkling the salt on it, then waited for her to do the same as he took the shot in his hand.
He licked his hand? Amelia could think of little that could be more disgusting and unsanitary at the moment. It was something she NEVER would have done before. Which meant it was exactly what she was going to do now. Following the bartender's lead, she sprinkled the salt, then held the glass up as if to toast.
"Ready?" asked the bartender. "Lick, drink, bite." Amelia followed him in near unison, licking the salt and slamming back the shot. It caught her breath, but as soon as she put the lime slice in her mouth, the sensation seemed to ebb.
"Mmmmm. That's good! I'll have another, please."
"Careful with that. It'll get to you fast. There's a reason they call it 'Ta Kill Ya.'"
Amelia nodded, not really listening, or caring. She had always been able to hold her whiskey fairly well. How bad could it be? The bartender, for his part, declined her offer of another, apologizing that he was on duty, and had to keep a clear head.
This time, as she lifted the glass to drink, she mumbled to herself bitterly, "Here's to you, Elizabeth Peters."