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[coppelganger]

crystal | letters | in-person

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[coppelganger]

[ Oh, now here's an idea she can get behind. ]

Shit, I'd do just just to have better whiskey to drink.

[periastron]

Right? Never ending reserve, custom made for you.

( So dramatically said, like she's some 1950s car salesman. )

I had a mate who used to make beer, but other than that I gotta admit my personal experience with booze making is limited, so it might take a bit of research. And extensive testing.

[coppelganger]

I've never actually done it, but we could get the ingredients here, I think. It'd take a bit to age, but...

[ She's dreaming of some decent bourbon. ]

[periastron]

But it's be totally worth it. And there's all kinds of magic bullshit here. Maybe there's a magic bullshit that'd help whiskey age a little faster without fucking it up.

And there's always uh— the clear stuff, in the meantime. I think it's just called white whiskey, like it's unaged or something?

[coppelganger]

That hipster shite.

[ On the one hand, her pride. On the other, yeah, skipping the three-plus months of aging would mean faster cash in hand. ]

[periastron]

( Her hand comes to rest over her heart, even if Sarah can't see it. )

As a Melburnian, any disparagin' remarks about hipster shite cut me to the bloody bone. Not that you're wrong, mind, but there's nothing saying you couldn't be making the hipster shite and the "proper" shite at the same time.

( Hearing an Australian say "shite" is just wrong, fyi )

[coppelganger]

[ pfft ]

Whatever, as long as we're not serving it in empty lightbulbs.

[periastron]

That just sounds like a health hazard. It'd be pretty wild to find lightbulbs here, but.

No, I was thinking we could serve them in hollowed out skulls. That seems more fitting for the aesthetic here.

[coppelganger]

Very metal of you.

[periastron]

Oh what, like you aren't metal, leatherpants mceyeliner.

[coppelganger]

[ Wowwww okay no ]

Punk and metal are completely different, you tit.

[periastron]

Sure they are. I'm really convinced.

[coppelganger]

They are, but I'm not gonna sit you through a music theory lesson. Some things can't be taught.

[periastron]

So you can only be a punk rebel if you're inherently a punk rebel? That's a bit harsh.

[coppelganger]

I hate to break it to you, but life's harsh.

[periastron]

You're breaking my heart. I had no idea.

[coppelganger]

Caring for koalas and kangaroos all day must be nice.

[periastron]

In my bloody dreams. But if you're saying kangaroos aren't punk then you've never been more wrong in your life.

[coppelganger]

Never met one.

[periastron]

That's a bloody tragedy. Sadly I only got a koala hanging about - shame.

( and then she snorts a laugh, ) We could call the whiskey Kangabooze.

[coppelganger]

Yeah, no thanks.

[periastron]

Alright, alright. What would you call it?

[coppelganger]

[ A sigh, while she thinks it over. ]

Dragonfire, Phoenixfire, Somethingfire? Pick an animal that exists here and sounds badass. Something like that.

[ #nubbinfire ]

[periastron]

Moosefire. Riskier than bears, just 'cause've numbers. Population-wise, I mean. More moose than bears.

( Dramatic, whispery flair: ) Moosefire.

[coppelganger]

[ oh my god Alex she's trying to run a business here ]

Oh, piss off.