fennhavelock:
This girl is here to party, Fenn thought to himself, grinning. Hell yeah.
“Nice to meet you Bev,” Fenn grinned as he accepted the bottle. He plonked down on the floor beside the mixing cabinet, cross-legged, as he swigged from the bottle.”Fucking hell,” he gasped. “Whatever that is should not be allowed.” He felt the pink liquid burning down to his stomach. “I love it.”
He grabbed two glasses and two strawberries from the cabinet just above his head, put a strawberry in each and filled them with the drink. “There - it’s basically a fruit salad.” He offered a glass to Bev.
“So, Bev. I’ll hazard a guess that you’re not a mixologist by trade - what do you do?” Fenn laughed.
she sat down on the floor next to him without hesitation, taking the glass and another liberal sip. the strawberry did absolutely nothing to improve the taste, but at least it looked a whole lot nicer. “i’m from district six.” which she supposed was meant to conjure up some sort of imagery of cars, trains, progress. people putting all their time into movement. but she couldn’t say she’d ever participated in her district’s trade. she was more of a passive observer while her father ran a company stable enough to support the family. “i’m just a girl.” an ornament to the family name, posing no real threat. “and you’re a chef? i mean this fruit salad is great.”








