"You've gone absolutely daffy, Bols, if you think you can drink the Gene Genie cross-eyed." Clink goes the shot glass upside down on the counter.
"I think I went mad a long time ago, Guv." Alex winces down the shot. Clink.
"Ain't that the truth." clink.
"Shouldn't we be building a pyramid or something?" clink.
"Too much work." Gene swishes the whiskey around his mouth a moment longer than should be allowed. clink.
"Figures." Alex mutters, beginning to despise whiskey. Clink.
They're the last two in Luigi's, as per usual, and he's left the light on, just the one above them. Hoping that it will dry them out, or that they scurry away like a pair of drunken roaches. Eventually they will. When neither of them can forget why exactly they're sitting there with the good glasses and half eaten plates of spag bol.
"Nip of whiskey's good for you." Clink.
"Then what's this then?" Clink.
"Premt…preem…preventative measures, Bols." Clink.
"Ah…" Clink. It doesn't burn so much on the way down, and she smiles lamely, thinking about how nice his hair looks in the dim light.