[ Valmont examines the drink critically. Well, he guesses it looks good enough for his refined palate. Perhaps the criminally fashion-impaired can be good for something after all. ]
Cheers, I suppose.
[ He drops a P500 bill on the counter, raises his cup, and takes a generous sip.
And chokes. ]
Oh god - what -
[ He doubles over as the cup falls to the floor, nutmeg-infused nog spilling everywhere. This, though, is the least of Valmont's worries. His throat is on fire, oh god ]
no subject
Cheers, I suppose.
[ He drops a P500 bill on the counter, raises his cup, and takes a generous sip.
And chokes. ]
Oh god - what -
[ He doubles over as the cup falls to the floor, nutmeg-infused nog spilling everywhere. This, though, is the least of Valmont's worries. His throat is on fire, oh god ]
...what did you... do to me...