Day 11: Reflection

Seydlitz walked into the bar and hung up her coat, trying to project a sense of confidence that she didn't feel. The Commandant had suggested she spend a bit of time socializing with other ships in a relaxed context. Now, she did understand what that meant– she wasn't Gascogne, bless her– but it still seemed a bit of a challenge.

Ordering her to relax a bit… well, she'd do her best, she supposed.

The bar was modern looking– and blessedly warm compared to the chill night outside– with glass tables and high seats, filled with other shipgirls relaxing after long days at sea. She found herself drifting toward a table at the bar proper, where Astoria moved from side to side in front of a sprawling mirror. Every drink Seydlitz could name and a few dozen that she couldn't sat on glass shelves, causing all sorts of reflections.

She took one of the seats, regretting that it didn't have a back to lean against, and waited for Astoria to make her way over. After Astoria had given Curlew and Curacoa a sort of yellow-green drink with white froth on top, she headed over to Seydlitz.

"Hey, Seyd! Can I call you Seyd?"

"Sure."

"Great. Feeling like anything in particular?"

"I don't know. What did they have?" She glanced at Curacoa, who had put away a lot more drink than her sister.

"Pisco sour. It's, uh… Peruvian, I think? Think we're out of eggs, though. Sorry."

"Egg?" Seydlitz asked.

"Yeah. I thought the recipe book was wrong, but nope! Just the whites. Somebody handles the yolks though, so it all works out great."

Egg white, huh? Seydlitz wouldn't knock anybody's taste, especially not ladies who knew fancy drink better than she did, but this was a far cry from simply throwing back whatever drink you could get your hands on. Still…
"Do you have something…" Normal wasn't quite the right word, was it? "...Something like a normal drink?"

"Like, a virgin cocktail, or a drink that tastes like something non-alcoholic?"

"The latter."

"I can do that. You like hot chocolate?"

"I suppose." The Commandant had asked her to make two cups once– for him and for her– and it was nice, as drinks went…

"You don't mind peppermint?"

"It's fine."

"I'll get that to ya!" It turned out that Seydlitz had asked for something of a complex drink, even if she didn't mean to. Hot cocoa required heating the drink, after all. Still, Astoria stayed chipper, chatting easily.

"How strong would you like it, Seyd?"

"Strong." At the very least, she could handle her drink. Astoria nodded and poured in a fair helping of strong peppermint schnapps, before placing the drink in front of Seydlitz. A sip proved it to be good. "Thanks, Astoria."

"Anytime. I'd stay and chat but I think I see somebody wavin' me over…"

Seydlitz felt the urge to offer her assistance, even though it certainly wasn't her job, and she barely knew the first thing about the job. Astoria did occasionally check a little red book (who was Mr. Boston?) in the process of making the recipes, but there was a certain… style to it all. Extravagant, definitely, but remarkable.

She wondered if the Commandant appreciated that sort of thing. He permitted the bar on base, but permission was different from actually enjoying the thing…

Which was what she was supposed to be doing, technically. The drink was certainly good, and she was scoping out some of the other groups of girls to see who she might join when two people sat down on either side of her, just seeming to appear out of nowhere.

Both had distinctive sharp ears, although they differed in several other ways: Britain's Duke of York had pink hair, and Russia's own Sevastopol had white. Not like Seydlitz could talk, considering her own hair, but it was a distinctive trait, one she noticed as soon as he realized they were there.

"Hey, you two! Are you feeling like the usual?" Astoria had come over to talk to the two.

"If thou would be so kind, a Singapore Sling?"

"An El Presidente, please."

"Comin' right up!" Astoria went back to mixing, grabbing some curaçao liquor– huh, that was funny, considering Curacoa was a few seats over– and a few other ingredients, like grenadine and vermouth. Their bar seemed almost as international as Azur Lane was, although Seydlitz didn't actually see much Asian stuff…

"I see this German battlecruiser has not yet taken her quiet repose…" That was Duke.

"The Commandant suggested I spend some time socializing."

"We're glad to have you, Comrade!" Sevastopol grinned, looking at her cup curiously. "What's that you're drinking?"

"Hot cocoa with schnapps."

"O, sweet temptation," Duke muttered, before grinning when Astoria laid a tall glass of something red in front of her. "I thank thee, for the delivery of this nectar divine–"

"No problem, Duke." Astoria responded, vainly attempting to cut the British woman off as she went to make Sevastopol's drink. It didn't work, and Duke continued to wax poetic.

"The El Presidente is actually a very bourgeois drink," Sevastopol admitted, like that was something to be ashamed of. Perhaps it was, for a Soviet ship such as herself. "Very popular among the Cuban upper class, before the revolution."

Seydlitz wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Was the correct response agreement, or would it perhaps be better to deflect in hopes of brightening the atmosphere? "Is it good?"

"It's great. Perhaps this will sound a touch greedy, but don't you think a bar on board your ship would be nice?"

"I wouldn't mind nicer conditions during missions."

"Exactly!" Astoria laid Sevastopol's drink in front of her. "Cheers, Astoria!" She raised the glass and drank deeply… which almost felt like a waste of Astoria's hard work, seeing it vanish so quickly.

Speaking of, Astoria really was working hard– she had dashed over to the other side of the bar and was working on some other concoction, but she seemed to be having a spot of trouble…

"Hey, can one of you guys tell me where I left the Cherry Heering?"

Not one to ignore a call for help, Seydlitz scanned the glasses behind the bar, looking for this Cherry Heering stuff. And then she noticed something completely unrelated to the bottles.

It took her a moment or two to realize what was wrong, and why Duke and Sevastopol's arrival had surprised her so much. Looking between the amber glasses of whiskey and a bottle of triple sec, she could see the spot where their reflections were supposed to be. The El Presidente and the Singapore Sling were still there, but no one sat behind them, drinking.

Seydlitz took a particularly large swig of her drink. This was… a bit more than the fun and games they had near Halloween. Lutzow wasn't the genuine article.