Severus nodded his consent regarding Blacks and their propensity towards vainglorious attention to appearances. He even smiled.
"I promise to tell no one about this egregious breach in decorum."
"Tea leaves can bite my scrawny arse." Severus knew all too well that the future can and would take him up on that offer, time and time again - as it already had.
But the point of the evening was the forget about the future, and in doing so, present a pointed, meaningful middle finger to all the lay before them. They were well on their way to the symbolic gesture, but what they needed was a boost. Severus surveyed the bottles again, taking in their colorful labels, and when his eyes alighted on a clear bottle his smiled turned somewhat wicked. He waved the bartender over and pointed to the bottle with the silver label. She smiled at him, winked even as she pulled down the bottle - it might have been the alcohol singing, but Severus was sure a chorus of angel heralded the placement of the liquor before them.
"Tequila, you'll either love it or hate it, mate, never middle ground, and this'll certainly give you plausible deniability - after this stuff, forget hazy, everything'll be a pitch black smear of a memory not even the best memory recalling charms will help."
Severus poured them each a shot-glassful - Regulus would have to understand the reason for the small glasses after this try - and raised his glass to his lips, mentally picturing the rude 'Fuck you, Future' as he did so.