[ Quentin snorts at that, shoving his hair out of his face before motioning for the other to help himself to the bag, opening the bottle of tequila for himself and taking a healthy swig. He doesn't even wince, used to at least feeling a little numb.
Not as much as Eliot. That one-off comment about liver damage he made ages ago is probably true--he still might drink and party his way into an early grave, even as High King.
Hopefully not without Quentin. ]
Maybe stick to champagne for now, get that right first.
[ It's a teasing smile as he hands the bottle over to the taller man, a silent invitation to take a sip if he hasn't picked his own poison. ]
no subject
Not as much as Eliot. That one-off comment about liver damage he made ages ago is probably true--he still might drink and party his way into an early grave, even as High King.
Hopefully not without Quentin. ]
Maybe stick to champagne for now, get that right first.
[ It's a teasing smile as he hands the bottle over to the taller man, a silent invitation to take a sip if he hasn't picked his own poison. ]