Freya leaned back and slugged the alcoholic drink down her throat. It burned so much as it went down that it felt like she was breathing fire. It tasted like an old whiskey, barrel aged and everything.
When she set down her old-fashioned glass, Eris immediately poured another splash into it. She then poured some into her own glass, which she picked up and sipped.
The two were seated alone in a small drinking lounge somewhere on Eris’ flagship. It was small, dark, and cozy.
“I see you’re not a whiskey person,” she said.
“Getting drunk was never my thing,’ Freya answered. “Though I’ve been feeling the need lately… Why? Is this whiskey special or something? Didja take this from some Fed admiral or something? Pried it from his cold, dead hands sorta thing?”
Eris chuckled lightly.
“Naw, nothing like that,” she said. “This is actually some cheap whiskey. The kind you’d find at a gas station or the corner store. I kinda missed it, so I had some people on the fleet recreate it.”