Romans & histoires Mikasa Double Old Fashioned Glass

she said, fidgeting with her bracelet. Michael turned around and placed two heavy glass tumblers on the counter. Beside the glasses, he placed a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve bourbon. Maggie frowned slightly and looked up at him. "This isn't the same bottle I gave you a few years ago, is it?" He grinned. "Yes, it is." She shook her head. "But how…? I mean, why didn't you drink it?" Her face fell. "You didn't like it."

Mark Susan spoke again. "Yes... The reception bar should have a large beer cup, a crystal glass that can probably hold a pound of wine." The waiter said. "Okay, here it is. Give me a few large glasses. We want to drink." Mark Susan turned around to look behind the people who were talking. It's pretty good, the more you play, the bigger it gets. First, wanted twenty bottles of maotai, and now want a large crystal glass of wine. These students look crazy, right?

He stays looking towards the waitress, ignoring her request. "I've already got that figured out," he replied "What drink is it, Mr Dasher?" she asked. He squints, his eyes mockingly pretending to think very hard before taking a deep breath. "Normally you would go for gin with something fruity raspberry or cranberry maybe but you aren't in that kind of mood, it is too refreshing, too made for summer. I think the red wine, specifically the Chateau Des Bardes will do that for you. Close?" he asked.

Anthony retrieves the bottle and glasses from the maid and dismisses her with a nod. "I like what you've done with your hair" he informs, filling the glasses. "One more thing we have to thank Kenzie for" he hands me a champaign flute. "Cheers" I raise my glass and he clinks it with his. The champaign's a pale, rose color and it tastes deliciously crisp. "Here" he hands me a large, silver pouch that was lying on the centre table. I reach into it and pull out a black masquerade mask. It's beautiful, it has gold ribbons threaded around the edges and stunning gold filigree around the eyes and intricate patterns in gold, thin lines.

When I looked up at her with a puzzling look she smiled. “On the house,” she smiled. “Juice?” I asked. “No, no,” she laughed as she placed shot glasses on the table. “Sake.” "Oh,” I giggle. “Thank you so much!” “Very strong. Only a little bit,” she warned. Nyx and I watched her as she walked away. When we turned back to the table, Clara had already popped off the lid and filled up our shots. She lifted her glass and when she felt our eyes on her, she looked up at us.

I looked over at a drink in a beta’s hand and said, “I believe he’s got a Tom Collins.” Zane made an impressed-looking face, then scouted around. “What about the beta female in the white cocktail dress? What’s she got?” I shot him a look. “You picked an easy one. That’s a margarita glass, and they don’t serve anything else in those.” He hummed and looked around some more. “Oh, I don’t recognize that one the alpha female in the green maxi dress has.” “It’s a Pink Lady. You make it with an egg white and grenadine to get it that color.”

I turned quickly, grabbing bottles and mixing the drinks with practiced ease. It only took a few minutes before I carried them back over but they weren’t sitting in their usual spot. Instead, they’d taken a table off to the side, tucked into a darker corner that gave them a clear view of the entire bar. It was… different and strategic but Mike, he wasn’t relaxed. His eyes kept drifting to the entrance and his posture tense like he was waiting for something or someone. “Four Long Islands,” I said, setting the glasses down. They each took a sip, exchanging glances before nodding. “This is really good,” Michael said.

The bartender, a tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes, greeted me with a nod. "What can I get for you?" he asked. "Just a whiskey. Make it a triple. Wolfsbane." The bartender poured me a glass of whiskey and handed it to me and left. I took a sip, drumming my fingers on the table. "Whiskey," a familiar voice said behind me. "A double."

Having almost everyone doing the popular dance move of sticking their head in and out to the beat. George pulled up to a stop at the bar. "Two glasses of tequila and an ice cake" He ordered to the waiter, settling down opposite where she sat as they waited for their drinks which arrived in a second. "Cake and alcohol? That's some weird combination." "I love weird. What made you change your mind about attending the party?" "You." She said in simple directness, eating a piece of the cake. He drew his head backwards, brows arched up as he stared at her in flummox, "Oh wow! I didn't see that coming."

Glasses clinked, voices rose, and the air smelled faintly of bourbon and fried food. As Marcus and Atlan approached, the guys offered brief nods and handshakes. Atlan took a seat, his posture stiff but trying not to show it. A waitress swooped over almost immediately. “Two shots of bourbon,” Marcus ordered smoothly. “And a shot of tequila for my friend here.” “Uh…no ice,” Atlan added quickly, forcing a half-smile. “Trying to, you know, stay away from cold stuff. Arteries and all that.”