Ishizu wiped her eyes as the tequila flooded her throat, the bite of the salt and the sting of the lime juice adding another kick to the strength of the drink. "Your turn."

Seto smiled lazily at her from across the low coffee table and reached for the bottle of clear liquid and the shot glass, pouring himself a healthy dose without spilling a drop. Then those graceful hands reached for another slice of lime. The glass saltshaker, the spilled grains forming a fine layer on the wooden table.

He sprinkled a bit of salt on the webbing between his thumb and index finger, pausing for a moment before commencing with his turn.

Ishizu noticed his movements grow slow, a tiny, teasing smile lighting at one corner of her mouth. "Had enough already?"

Seto's eyes gleamed darkly. "Far from it." And as Ishizu watched intently, eyes nearly fixated on his lips, he licked the salt off his hand, knocking it back with the cheap liquor, followed by the bite of lime to chase it all down.

He closed his eyes and winced slightly as something like the ninth or tenth such drink slid down his throat. Yet Ishizu seemed barely touched by the copious amounts of alcohol she'd consumed, and there was no way in hell he was losing.

"How in the hell does a museum curator know how to drink so well?" he groused as Ishizu reached for the bottle of tequila, and poured herself another shot.

Her smile was seraphic as she sprinkled salt on her hand and moved another slice of lime in front of her. "You'd be surprised how much alcohol is consumed at museum galas. Being able to hold your liquor better than some rich patron is always advantageous in such matters."

Seto ducked his head in acknowledgment as he watched her take her shot, accompanied by her salt and lime slice. Watched her lick her lips as she shook her head, breath coming out in a slight cough.

He smirked. "Had enough?"

Ishizu coughed again and held up a hand, trying to breathe more deeply. "Went… down… the wrong pipe…" Her shoulders shook as she coughed again, this time a bit more cleanly, eyes watering as she blushed under his triumphant gaze.

As she recovered, she moved the bottle and shot glass back towards his side of the table. "Gods, this tequila tastes terrible–"

Seto's smirk widened, feeling something flutter in his chest as he grabbed ahold of her wrist.

"I can think of something that tastes better."

Noticing a bit of salt still lingering on her hand, he leaned forward slightly and gently licked it off, eyes never leaving hers as his tongue brushed against her skin, lingering longer than was wholly necessary.

Ishizu inhaled sharply as his words sent vibrations through her skin. Her belly. Her thighs.

"Well?" she managed to get out in as even a tone as possible.

He looked positively triumphant as he pulled on her wrist, forcing her to lean across the table towards him, her other arm bracing against the wood for balance.

"I think there's room for further exploration. Wouldn't you say so?"

And he leaned forward to press his lips to hers, them both tasting salt, lime, cheap tequila, and something much sweeter altogether.

Victory was a better flavor than he had anticipated.