[ By doesn't like the amusement, but he does relax, a little of the tension going out of his face. In response to the question, he fishes his flask out of his pocket - there's some truly high-octane moonshine in it, enough to keep his spins going for a long time. He shakes it a moment, demonstrating its fullness, and then takes a heavy gulp off it. ]
Want some?
[ No fool he, though; his grip on it is firm. He wouldn't be surprised if fucking Buzzkill Party Mom there took it from him and poured it out. ]
no subject
Want some?
[ No fool he, though; his grip on it is firm. He wouldn't be surprised if fucking Buzzkill Party Mom there took it from him and poured it out. ]