berthathebrave:
“Another,” Bertha said to the bartender at the Hog’s Head, throwing back her shot of fire whiskey, ignoring the irritation that coursed through her.
Lucius wasn’t in the habit of going into establishments with reputations for being less than the best. But unfortunately the Hog’s Head was the only place within Scotland where he could buy a sort of whiskey he favoured. He glanced over at Bertha as she ordered another drink. “That seems a dangerous pass time.”










