our conversations ain't long but you know what is (fearisgone) wrote in immune_ic,
Jax had had his share of teenage experiences, but nothing nearly as cool as making moonshine. His had been mostly stupid pranks, petty larceny, illicit sex. Well... a couple of instances of illicit sex with the class slut. What? He was a guy and he'd been super curious about it. Everyone had to get experience somehow. Then, of course, the world had ended, and so had teenage experimentation. But now he was living in a reasonably stable environment again, so who knew what would happen?
"Maybe it's early Alzheimer's," Jax cracked. "My grandpa used to crack me up... he called it Old Timer's. Like, he thought that was really the name of it." His gramps had died before the zombies struck, which was really a good thing, in a way. He'd been ninety-five, and by the time people got that old, it was time to go, anyway. He hoped he was dead long before he got to be that age, because the thought of being extremely old gave him the heebies.
"Yeah, you should keep an eye on me," he said. "'Cause sometimes I do tricks." Har de har. Jax had forgotten about being cold; maybe the liquor really was warming him up. He exhaled a snort, scoffing at her question. "I've totally drank before," he argued. "Just not much at a time. So I gotta break my record tonight." He watched with admiration as she tipped the bottle back and let the whiskey slide smoothly down her throat. Nothing like a woman who could drink. Once she'd had her turn, Jax took the bottle back, careful to try to look cooler this time. He might not have gotten as much down at one go as she had, but at least he didn't cough this time.