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[Please... he can't sustain himself on peanuts alone. He sighs and slumps, getting his elbows all over the bar and frowning at his pretty drink. Really, the moment Greed says this isn't a drink for beginners, he's never wanted to chug a beautiful blue mystery more...

But he won't. He looks up again.]

Well, with what, then?

Bunch of shots.

[He gestures, demonstrating where the few glasses would go.]

Whiskey, vodka, beer, tequila . . . get you used to what each one's like and what it means.

[Space out each shot generously, then then cut him off quick and give him an enormous amount of water, because he doesn't actually want the kid to die.]

This stuff's fine if you know what you want, but you don't have any idea what's in it. So you'd drink and you'd think it was fine, and you'd order another, and then two drinks later you'd be throwing up in the alley.

[Hm... shots. Would be better if they were pretty, but he supposes Greed is the expert.]

You'd let me wind up puking in the alley... I'm not that bad, am I?

[Hmm, so...]

Is it time for shots?

Dark beer.

[Is all he says as he reaches beneath the counter and grabs a few shot glasses. Apparently it is, yes, though Ling's going to pay for them . . . but he has a tab, so it's fine. Tequila first, and so that demands the addition of lime and salt as well.]

You know how to do this?

[Dark beer! His most foolish moment. That gets him to laugh, mostly sheepish, and casually slide the cocktail to the side to watch Greed do his thing. Do a cool bartender trick!!]

I've seen it done.

[Vote of confidence, see, he's good at this.]

I can do a shot!

All right.

[He does not do a cool bartender trick, or at least he does not do it with tequila. Maybe later, because he does like showing off and he is good at that flashy shit. For now: a simple shot of tequila (only half full), along with some cut-up lime bits and a salt-shaker.]

All yours, kiddo.

[God, he hopes this isn't the night some cop wanders in. That'd be just the thing . . .]

[Don't call him kiddo, he has a shitty fake ID. He looks at this... display... There are a few extra accessories here he actually was not expecting. Shit!

So the tequila is going well. He looks at this spread for about twenty seconds, not sure what to pick up first for the least horrible experience.]

Okay, I lied.

[He laughs. It's not entirely mean. It's a little fond, honestly.]

No shit.

[The bar is empty, is the thing. Oh, Roa is somewhere in back, and undoubtedly there are a few people lurking around downstairs, but in the bar proper, it's just he and Ling. And while the kid is underage, he's not actually a kid, just not . . . twenty-one. Not too much younger than Greed himself, honestly.

So why not, is more or less the conclusion he comes to, why not, and that's all the go-ahead he's ever needed.

One hand darts forward, catching Ling's. He turns it over, the inside of his wrist up.]

The order's salt, drink, lime, right? Salt to stop the burn, lime as a chaser. So you just--

[He brings his wrist up to his mouth, his eyes locked on Ling's. He wants to come down to the shitty side of town? He wants to play at being a big man and strutting with the criminals? Fine. But he's got to learn actions have consequences.

It's a quick lick, nothing crude or overly sexual. But it's reddened tongue against pale skin; it's heat and wetness and nothing like the kid's ever experienced, and he'll be thinking of it long after he leaves the bar tonight.

Gently, a smirk on his face, he sets his hand down on the back. His fingers still have a tight grip there, keeping him in place, and he sprinkles a bit of salt.]

Think you can handle that?

Edited 2018-05-01 23:07 (UTC)

[Well, it's not the lesson he was expecting. He can't seem to find his voice to ask what Greed is doing grabbing his hand like that, doesn't even think to tug his hand back and make some half-assed posturing about not grabbing people whenever he wants. It's just Ling sitting there in silence, eyes locked on Greed, half-coherent thought about salt, drink, lime just barely managing to form.

Salt-drink-lime. Why do people drink this shit if it burns and they have to eat salt, pure salt, first?

Ling shows up at the bar a few times in a month, maybe less, it depends, and he never thinks anything out of the ordinary will happen.

Salt, then— ugly girls on Tuesdays, and Ling has flirted around, stolen a kiss or two here and there, but the girls in his family's circles are soft and pretty and none of them can capture his attention like someone rude and loud and as far from soft as a person can be. Greed does whatever he wants and Ling should object to it, surely, pull his hand away and stop this stupid drink lesson and maybe even go home, but it's too late now; the spot on his wrist feels electric. His ears burn, embarrassed; all it takes is that? He's not fucking twelve.

Clearly, this is why people drink.]

Salt, drink, lime. [This is a bad idea, but what's life without a couple terminally bad ideas?] Okay.

Okay.

[It's a piss-poor idea to drink on the job, and Greed normally never entertains the thought. But it's a slow night, and he's off in an hour, and the kid looks so tempting right now, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, oh, he can't resist.

His tongue slides against his finger (a little because he doesn't have room on his wrist thanks to those leather bracelets he wears; mostly because he wants Ling to turn red as he thinks about Greed's mouth and fingers), wetting it enough to take a little salt. It's been forever since he's done this, but it's a fun little ritual.

A glass is procured one-handed; tequila is poured (his own shot is a little bigger than Ling's, because he himself is a little bigger than Ling), and he flashes a grin.]

Remember to swallow.

[And with that absolutely-not-innuendo-no-sir advice given, he licks the salt off his finger and downs the shot.]

[Ling turns red alright—redder, after the wrist move, just sitting there for a second before he remembers to lift said wrist and get ready for the actual shot part of doing shots. He's still staring at Greed, so it makes a ridiculous picture, holding his wrist up and not even looking at it or at the alcohol, and he blinks and looks down only when he nearly fumbles the shot glass all over the bar.

Salt-drink-lime, salt-mistakes-lime, fingers-wrist-mouth, jesus—he sputters for a second when Greed tells him to swallow, then throws caution to the wind, licks the salt and throws back the shot.

Then he actually does cough, once, twice, not huge choking coughs but smaller, still embarrassing wheezes. The salt does nothing to help the burn, he understands now, and picks up the lime to all but shove the whole thing in his mouth out of pure frustration.

Well, he didn't die. He's quiet for a moment and then speaks around the piece of lime, because of course he does,] I paid real money not to taste anything.

You've been paying real money not to taste anything for six months. At least this time you'll get drunk off it.

[And he'll get a kick out of things. He doesn't bother with a lime, too used to the taste to need it, and watches with no small amount of amusement as Ling sucks on it.]

This stuff'll knock you flat if you're not careful. It won't hit right away, though. So let's give it a few minutes, huh?

Oh, [Ling says, because that is true. But he didn't wheeze on pretty drinks he didn't actually drink, so was it really the lesser option...?? He almost says something truly absurd like I don't want to get drunk, but at least this time remembers he is in a bar where adults who like alcohol go.

Also he's going to eat this lime down to the rind like it's a fucking orange slice, just watch him.]

There's so much more waiting in drinking than I expected.

It's only long to you because you've got nothing else to think about.

[He gestures with his empty glass, indicating the empty bar.]

It's different when the place is packed. When you're thinking about other people, about whether that girl over there is gonna let you take her into the alley or if you've got competition from that asshole two seats down.

Then, it hits pretty quick. And you decide that you want another shot to get your courage up, and that's how I make money.

[See, that... sounds... incredibly boring, actually. Ling makes a face - he even sticks his tongue out for a second, to emphasize both how uninteresting that sounds and also what a baby he is - because honestly, he gets enough practice manipulating the situation^TM from his own family to need it from strangers.

Leaving aside that he's the least subtle person who comes into this bar except for maybe Greed himself, who has time for all of that when you can just ask—]

We already talked about how I'm not here to see girls. [Are there more limes and, important, can he eat them all? He's going to, in the absence of the cherries he so politely asked for.] Ah, but— the alley?

[That's gross... he's spoiled.]

[He is not getting at the limes. He is allowed the one lime, which he's already consumed, and the rest is staying safely beneath the bar.]

What, too good for it?

[He's spoiled, but that's no surprise. Idly, his movements carelessly graceful, he pours out some whiskey. He wants taste, he'll get taste. This stuff's a little more expensive, if only because he wants the kid to have a good first impression.]

[Please give him more limes? He is a paying customer.]

Haha, am I supposed to be politely embarrassed about not wanting to fool around in the alley out back? I don't think so.

[There is actually a limit to how many times he can be tricked into checking his privilege, and not wanting to fuck in a dirty alley is way past it.

Now, please do a cool bartender trick with the whiskey.]

You should be embarrassed because you don't know a whole lot about sex if you think getting blown in an alley is something to turn your nose up at.

[He does, in fact, do a cool bartender trick, neatly flipping the bottle midair before pouring it into two glasses. He offers Ling a little grin, a touch leering.]

What, you want it in your feather bed all the time? Her flat on her back, and maybe you two can cuddle after?

[Hang on, he's taking a moment to do a polite little golf clap for the bartender trick. This is completely genuine; he is earnestly delighted by bottle flipping.

Anyway he still doesn't want alley head, gross!! Next to the trash!!]

I don't think you know me well enough to ask me about that! Does this drink have a many-step process?

Nah. Just down it.

[He sets the bottle down, then puts his hand over both glasses, stopping Ling from taking his just yet.]

You think I don't know you well?

[He is, again, paying for that, let him wheeze in peace. He raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing Greed for just a moment.]

Yes, pretty much that.

[He stares down at him, expression unreadable. Then:]

Ling Yao, who wants to figure out some way to bump his family up so they're the head of the Xing clan instead of somewhere in the middle. Who comes down here almost every week, who buys a drink and doesn't touch it, who sits around and talks and talks and looks at everyone to see if they might be able to help him get a lead.

Who is eighteen, not twenty-three, and who needs to learn to get somebody better to do his dirty work when it comes to getting illegal shit. Who just had his first drink, who definitely hasn't fucked anyone . . .

[He takes his hand off the glasses, curling two fingers beneath his chin and tipping his head up. His eyes are darker, a smirk tugging at his lips.]

And who wouldn't say no if I took him to that alley.

[This is supposed to prove a point, Ling thinks when Greed starts in, this is supposed to prove him so wrong so he'll concede that Greed, uh, has ears like everyone else in this bar he's babbled to at length—but Ling is too busy being stupidly, childishly giddy that Greed actually paid attention at least once. Even this rather biting call out is something!

Ling has low standards for positive attention, see. Probably not hugged enough as a young cutthroat business baby. Even his shitty fake ID being so blatantly pointed out just makes him smile a little, stupid, and he's already leaned halfway across the bar in rapt attention (while Greed goes on about what a virgin he is, well, he's not embarrassed about that either!!) when Greed touches him again and he loses track of the whole thing for a second.

Oh, then, oh—] Uh—

[That's a mental image for the ages, something else to take home with him and think about for days, that makes him blush again now.]

You'd be surprised. [no. what? huh?] I don't see what the big deal is about the alley.

[You'd be surprised, no he damn well wouldn't. He can see it in the kid's face, the way he's leaning into this, the way he's staring at Greed with a mixture of rapt delight and intelligent skepticism . . . no, he wouldn't be surprised, because he'd expect Ling to follow him wherever he led if he snapped his fingers.

(He's going to be surprised).]

And you won't til you get there.

[He releases him, pushing one of the shot glasses towards him.]

But you'll see. Now: swallow it fast.

[It's going to burn more afterwards then while it's in his mouth, stinging sharply, leaving him sputtering, but ah, well, you have to learn how to get used to whiskey.]

[Ling is bad at plans and worse at business but he isn't a complete moron; if he doesn't want to do something he just isn't going to do it. He loves the attention, but how many people does Greed take to the alley whenever he wants? He has no idea, but he's sure he isn't particularly unique, so.

So, whiskey, apparently. He gives Greed one more look, eyes narrowed, defiant even as he picks up the glass and downs it without nearly as much hesitation as the last one. Give him a second—

And there comes the coughing, Ling rubbing at his neck like that's going to help lessen the sting. He wants to look at pretty cocktails again instead of this...]

Don't you have any that taste good?

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