Slowly nodding along as she spoke, in which she proposed her ‘challenge,’ for the pair. His mind, which has thankfully had time over the past year to adjust to such a lifestyle, immediately thought of a few options that he remembered serving in their old menu. At first, his mind drifted to a recipe he hadn’t tried before, one with a little
kick.
“. . .Think you can handle that?” Glancing to Ela, it dawned on him that maybe now was not a good time to experiment. With yet another mutual reassurance in gaze, he looked forward, nodding his head some,
“Yes, miss.” As he shifted to stand from the seat.
Assuming Phaelix had shifted aside to let the newcomers try their hand, they stepped toward the bar, Samuel stooping to murmur to the other,
“Just do what comes natural, you’ll do better’n me.” In a jesting reassurance, to calm whatever nerves she might’ve had from the proposal. Having moved behind the counter, there was a brief survey of what they had at their disposal. Given the status of the Star Lounge, it had just about everything they could need for however many combinations. He, however, thinks he’d play it safe - do a tried-and-true drink he’s done before. Getting to work with yet another nod to his companion, hands moved to place glasses down, with a soft hum to himself in an attempt to center his focus.
After spending a solid moment staring at the vast wall of different ingredients, there was a lean and a quiet murmur to the other,
“Where’s the fruit juices..?” And after some help, he gave a thankful nod, and began the process. Samuel had good hand-eye coordination. It was natural, instinct honed over time - but he didn’t think he’d ever use it like this.
Think of it like loading a blaster, thought to himself as he took one of the bottles, pouring it into one of the glasses set out earlier. Set the clip aside - the bottle was placed away, grabbing another one without paying attention. Another brief correction from the other - such is the 10 year gap between them - and he was pouring the next brightly-colored bottle into the glass, swirling it as he did so to thoroughly mix, before setting the bottle down with the glass still in his hand, careful not to spill. Stooping below the counter, he was swift in his movements, taking yet another bottle of some exotic citrus, along with some old-fashioned rum, and adding it to his concoction two-a-time.
It took some time, but eventually, the glass was set down, and slid forwards to the opposite side of the bar. The glass was tall, and red in coloration, as a
cloudy mist rose from the glass whilst the contents began to settle from the thorough mixing.
"Done, miss."