[So dubious. Drinking at teenagers house could be taken so wrong... and also lead to poor life choices. But. A chance to get drunk in company and prove Kitty wrong about her drinking abilities is too much of a lure.]
[ When Jeff shows up, the place doesn't exactly seem set up for drunken revelry - Kitty has made tea, which she's set out on the table, and there are stacks of papers. She's dressed more nicely than usual: she usually defaults to a sort of greaser-punk style here in Heropa, always wearing a scuffed leather jacket and usually with her hair held back with a bandanna tied around her head. But tonight she's in a teenager's approximation of professional clothes: button-down shirt, slacks, just a little hint of make-up. All very worn and not exactly in-style, because Kitty shops at Goodwill, but she does make it work.
[When Jeff arrives he's got a paper grocery bag tucked under an arm that clinks lightly as he shifts his grip on it. He's opted for jeans, t-shirt and hooded jacket for his casual drinks clothing choice, so Kitty's selection of shirt and slacks has him arching a brow. Is she just trying to make a good impression? Ugh, he has a bad feeling about this.]
Uh. Couple of bottles of scotch. Pack of beers... You look... nice...?
[He thinks. He's not sure any more, even as he invites himself in.]
Here, I'll put the beers in the fridge. A few bottles of scotch, though - that's ambitious, isn't it. And a bit reckless. We British invented scotch, didn't we.
Yeah. One of the only things you were good for was alcohol.
[He passes the bag over and immediately lets his hands stuff into the pockets of his jeans. He takes a few lazy steps around the room, his attention drifting onto the table of tea and paper. Not exactly drunken fun time.]
Where do you keep your glasses? [Needs booze now plz.]
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Jeff Winger. You fail, we bail.
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Hi Mr Winger. Happy Rosh Hashanah.
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Is it...?
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I bet I can outdrink you.
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[ It's definitely not part of a cunning plot. ]
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[That and he can totally cheat with his super power.]
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Fine. I can do that. I'll even drop you off at the hospital after inevitable alcohol poisoning.
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[So dubious. Drinking at teenagers house could be taken so wrong... and also lead to poor life choices. But. A chance to get drunk in company and prove Kitty wrong about her drinking abilities is too much of a lure.]
Yeah. Whatever. I'll be there.
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[ When Jeff shows up, the place doesn't exactly seem set up for drunken revelry - Kitty has made tea, which she's set out on the table, and there are stacks of papers. She's dressed more nicely than usual: she usually defaults to a sort of greaser-punk style here in Heropa, always wearing a scuffed leather jacket and usually with her hair held back with a bandanna tied around her head. But tonight she's in a teenager's approximation of professional clothes: button-down shirt, slacks, just a little hint of make-up. All very worn and not exactly in-style, because Kitty shops at Goodwill, but she does make it work.
But her opening salvo is: ]
So, what did you bring?
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Uh. Couple of bottles of scotch. Pack of beers... You look... nice...?
[He thinks. He's not sure any more, even as he invites himself in.]
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Thanks!
[ And then she holds out her hands for the bag. ]
Here, I'll put the beers in the fridge. A few bottles of scotch, though - that's ambitious, isn't it. And a bit reckless. We British invented scotch, didn't we.
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[He passes the bag over and immediately lets his hands stuff into the pockets of his jeans. He takes a few lazy steps around the room, his attention drifting onto the table of tea and paper. Not exactly drunken fun time.]
Where do you keep your glasses? [Needs booze now plz.]
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