"This? This is an Olivje salad. It goes very well with vodka because it is a Russian food." Chekov gestures for her to help herself and carefully pours a couple fingers' worth of alcohol into the shot glasses. "The first thing to know about vodka--other than that it was invented in Russia--is that you don't drink it with an empty stomach."
He thanks her and starts in on the salad. It's not as good as his great-aunt's, but, all things considered, it isn't terrible. Too much pickle juice, maybe.
"What drinks do you have at home, if you have no vodka? Other than water and wine."
"It doesn't do that to the fey. Just mortals," she says, eating the salad. "They like giving it to mortals because ... well... it's more fun that way."
"The fey are actually more like the deities... but not as powerful. They can be rather malicious and don't exactly think the same way people like us do because they exist in terms of ... pure magic and timelessness.
"They think a drunk mortal is more fun because there's less inhibitions and so they can get them to things that they'd normally wouldn't do."
"They sound very like the deities. I have no desire to meet any of them; one group of beings with powers and some control over us is more than enough."
"They created you? Then no, you're good to be wary. Anyone with the power to create likely has just as much power to destroy."
But that's not terribly cheerful. Chekov brightens and pushes one of the shot glasses closer to Laruna. "You have eaten enough to try this without many ill effects, I should think."
"All of life is canon fodder, creator or not," he replies cheerfully. It's just a fact.
"No, no, but you are allowed to do that. At home, we never drink without a toast." Chekov raises his own shot glass. "Za tvajo zdarovye. And now we drink."
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"What about what you brought?" If they have to eat something, that's a good thing to start with.
Shot glasses! Interesting.
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"What drinks do you have at home, if you have no vodka? Other than water and wine."
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"Dragonsfire. There's fey wine which you really, really don't want to drink."
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"What is more fun? And the word fey... I don't know it. Are they at all like wizards?"
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"They think a drunk mortal is more fun because there's less inhibitions and so they can get them to things that they'd normally wouldn't do."
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But that's not terribly cheerful. Chekov brightens and pushes one of the shot glasses closer to Laruna. "You have eaten enough to try this without many ill effects, I should think."
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But! Onto drinking because she needs one now.
"Good. Do you just down it?" Because she will.
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"No, no, but you are allowed to do that. At home, we never drink without a toast." Chekov raises his own shot glass. "Za tvajo zdarovye. And now we drink."
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Then she drinks a horribly thoughtful expression on her face.
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"What do you think of it?"
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Give her a few more tries.
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"It has a different bite to it," she says.
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And, more seriously: "Laruna, what do you like to do? For fun, I mean."
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