fandomhigh | Aesthetics of Badassery [Monday, Period One]

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Aesthetics of Badassery [Monday, Period One]

Bond's class actually had a teacher this week, and had been told to meet him at the Danger Shop, which was set up as a high-end bar, with a wide array of bottles behind it and the ubiquitous coffee and pastries on top of it.

"I apologise for my unavoidable absence last week, though I understand that Bobby performed admirably, and would like to state for the record that chess is one of the more badass games out there," Bond said, leaning against the bar. "But for those of you with differing opinions, I hope this week's is more to your satisfaction."

"Now, even if you have no interest or desire in consuming alcohol, which should be all of you, given you're underage in this state, the fact remains that having well rounded knowledge of the various kinds of alcohol, be they wines, beers, or in today's case, spirits, will improve your badass credentials in the eyes of many, especially if you are able to pull off that trick of being able to not only name the kind of drink in a blind tasting, but also to narrow down where it came from." Not that Bond had ever tried impressing anyone like that. Not that could be proved anyway.

"So today you'll be experimenting with making cocktails, there are refrence guides if you want to try existing recipes, or you can attempt to devise your own. Since the drinks are all simulated, there will be no actual alcohol content in anything you try." It would probably be wrong on a number of levels for him to give them real drinks, and besides they already had Caritas for that. "This exercise is merely so you can understand how various tastes work or don't work together."

[ooc: ~~wait for~~ ocd up]

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"I don't wear panties!" Bobby protested. Because that was the point here. But she was right. "And...I don't know. I don't like stuff you can get addicted to. Plus we're all kids, and we really shouldn't be drinking anyway."

"Maybe you and your tight white drawers are kids, but I'm seventeen going on forever and alcohol is a far better hunger management system than a snack of teen boy." Because it was her and a bunch of boys and she had no desire to bite any of them. Just a bit of an urge she was constantly suppressing. "There should be separate rules for that."

"Why are we talking about my underwear? I wouldn't bring up yours!" he contemplated. Possibly because talking about her underwear would make him explode with embarrassment.

"As long as you don't drink and drive," Bobby decided.

"There are no cars here," she pointed out smartly. Finally, she sounded smart! "And we're not talking about your underwear, you were the one complaining about my choice of terms!"

"There are after you graduate!" he retorted. So nyah. "I don't think any guy would want to wear panties. Only girls do that. Well, though I guess we shouldn't judge if a guy wanted to? But I don't. Not high heels either."

"Oh yeah? But girls can wear boxers no problem, right?" If Bobby knew what was good for him he'd avoid this conversation.

Bobby eyed her suspiciously. "They're still not panties. Cause they're boxers."

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted in interest. "So what, you think I'd say boxers were panties just because a girl wore them? Nice jump there, Bobby. I thought you were like, a feminist or something."

"You were totally going to say that if they're panties when a girl wears them than they'd be when a boy wears them," Bobby postulated. "And then I'd have to say I wear panties. I don't want to go there."

"No, I was going to say that if girls can wear boxers and it's fine, then boy can wear our underwear and be fine, God." He was totally assuming she was at a higher level of thinking than the obvious. This didn't stop her from smirking and adding, "But you did just say you wear panties. Technically."

"Well, it'd be fine if guys did but I don't want to," Bobby said. "...they look itchy."

Oh God, why was this conversation happening?

"Um, why would anyone wear underwear that itched? That seems totally backwards," Caroline replied, wondering what made him think that girls would do anything that made them scratch their rears on purpose.

"They might if they thought they looked good," he pointed out. He grinned triumphantly. "Like high heels!"

"Yes, but you can see my shoes," Caroline reminded him, just barely managing not to give his shin a tap as she recalled the no touching rule. "You can't see my underwear."

And now Bobby was thinking about her underwear. A lot. Thank you, Caroline.

He looked down at her shoes, and all that leg made him think about her underwear more, and...

"...you might wear them for you?"

Again, not something to think about.

"I didn't say they weren't pretty!" God, she thought he was weird. "Just not itchy. You're totally imagining my underwear now, aren't you?"

Bobby flushed bright red. "No!" he lied squeakily.

Change the subject. Change it now. "What drink were you making?"

"Liar," she sing-songed before turning back to her barely sipped glass. "But I won't ignore your sad attempt at a topic change since I would actually prefer not to know exactly what I'm wearing in your spank bank image." She held up her murky glass. "I was trying to mix a whiskey sour but it just tastes sour and nasty. Ew."

Bobby gaped at her for a long moment. She'd said words that he knew, but they sounded so different coming out of a girl's lips.

Oh God. He was going to die because...

"See...cause...with the name? I thought it would be sour?"

Caroline rolled her eyes as his obvious issues with her frankness. He was lucky she had a boyfriend or she'd probably take that as an invitation to be a little cruel. "Yes, but not gross," she said, shoving the drink at him. "Try it. Without choking."

For everyone's sake, it was probably good that Caroline did have a boyfriend.

He took the glass, still totally focusing on it because this was the class assignment! Very important! Way more important than whatever underwear Caroline was or was not wearing. "It smells weird," he pointed out, taking a little sip and making an awful face. "...Gross."

"I think it's the whiskey, having no redeeming alcoholic content to make us remember why we should ever take a second swig. Ugh," she shuddered at the idea. "What're you making?"

Hopefully nothing with a dirty name.

"So whiskey never tastes good? I've got an apple martini," Bobby told her, offering her his glass. "I liked the green."

Caroline was no stranger to sharing strange drinks and sipped it for taste. "Mmm, who knew you'd end up with the girliest drink ever?"

He frowned at her. "...this is girly? But it's apples! How are apples girly?"

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