Happy Birthday Laffers! Here's to the our love of Bones and alcohol. Love you lady! Remember don't get deported, if you do – make it good.
If there was diverse group of people anywhere in the vicinity of Daisy Wick, she couldn't help interjecting into whatever conversation was happening around her.
This particular night, the Jeffersonian team had just finished a case that had taken a toll on the team - late nights, sleeping at their desks, the makeup of yesterday still on. So, what better way to end it but a night out at Founding Father's?
As the team filed in, Daisy was keen on learning what everyone was drinking. She was trying to see if she could guess before they ordered. She knew she was judging on a preconceived notion but to her, it was fun.
Her mentor and someday, best friend Dr. Brennan ordered a red wine. Daisy was aware that she ordered differently from time to time but the bartender brought that along with Booth's scotch. Daisy wondered if Brennan had actually wanted it. But she knew that Brennan would speak up if she thought about something else to drink.
Angela ordered a 'Sex on the Beach" (That was typical of Ms. Montenegro and her ever ready libido.) Her husband just ordered a beer.
Her Lancelot always ventured to try to new things, but he enjoyed his raspberry mojito.
Dr. Saroyan was no nonsense at the office but let her hair down when she went out, sometimes.
"I'm surprised no one else ordered something with vodka in it." Daisy proclaimed. "Do you know the statistics of vodka drinkers to non-vodka drinkers?"
"I'm sure you are going to tell us." Booth said sarcastically. Whether Daisy knew if it was sarcastic is an entirely different matter.
"Well, if you must know. . . " Daisy started, "Prior to the 1950's, vodka was not consumed outside of Europe. In the 20th century, it gained more drinkers because there is no smell of liquor left on your breath, and its seemingly neutral flavor allows the vodka to be mixed in a variety of cocktails."
The group sitting around the table looked at each other, looked at their drinks then all took a sip.
"How do you know so much about vodka, Miss Wick?"
She had hardly swallowed her drink before she went and answered her mentor. "Dr. Brennan, during an undergraduate spring break, my friends and I travelled to the Vodka Belt in Europe."
"The Vodka What?" Hodgins chimed in.
"The Vodka Belt - it's an informal nickname - but we visited Russia, Ukraine and Poland. We didn't have time to visit the Baltic or the Nordic states."
"Alrighty, then." Booth chimed in again just before he swigged the rest of scotch. "Any one need another drink?"
Cam added, "Anyone want to switch to vodka?"
Everyone shook their heads no.
Daisy kept talking. "Vodka can be distilled from any starch or sugar-rich plant base, though today it's mainly distilled from grains. . . " She was determined for everyone to her thoughts on this important subject matter yet conversations continued around her.
"In 1430, a monk called Isidore from Chudov Monastery inside the Kremlin made a recipe for the first vodka."
Booth came back with a few drinks and joined in the conversations. Even Sweets wasn't listening to Daisy - perhaps he'd heard this before.
"So, how are Michael and Christine doing?"
"Until the mid 18th century, the alcohol content was still very low."
"So, is Michelle excited to start college in the fall?"
"The most popular brands today are Stolichnaya and Russian Standard. Smirnoff is still relatively mainstream."
Daisy kept talking and kept her blessed vodka. It seemed that everyone else was slowly filtering out. She wanted to flit about the bar and see if anyone else was drinking vodka. Sweets had suggested it was time to go home. She nodded slightly to him. She couldn't remember how many drinks she'd had.
"Daisy, you're not in Russia anymore. You need to slow down."
"I'm done, Lancelot." Daisy grabbed her purse with the guidance of Sweets. She shouted, "Vodka is aqua vitae. Nobody knows Latin anymore? The water of life, people."
No one glanced over at her. No one seemed to care.
Sweets brought her home, tucked her into bed, then left ibuprofen and water on her nightstand. He kissed her forehead and took the couch. He knew she needed her space when a hangover was the end result.
He settled on the couch but didn't sleep very well knowing Daisy was in the other room. He knew something wrong when he woke up and couldn't hear his girlfriend talking in her sleep. (Her brain never really slowed down.) He leaped from the couch and tiptoed into her room. He leaned over to kiss her, that usually stirred her but she didn't move.
He said, "Daisy. . . Daisy, wake up."
Nothing.
"Daisy, you're not funny."
Still nothing.
He checked her pulse. He tried everything. It was too late.
Daisy was dead.
Last night, Daisy forgot to mention during her lecture was that researchers, scholars and others said that vodka will leave you breathless and for Miss Wick truer words would never be uttered.