No, I'm very much "not happy"! Christ, you—I had no idea where you'd gone, I thought something might have happened to you! You can't—! [ aughhhhhhhhhhhhh
THERE IS A LOUD, ANGRY, PUGGISH SIGH and then Sarah throws her crystal into a corner for a while. Sorry, Helena. ]
Sarah, I got an idea, ( she may sound faintly tipsy. or not. who knows. )
we build a still, or get fancy barrels or whatever the fuck, and make actual decent booze, and then make a packet because these people are used to the worst fucking drinks known to exist.
( 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.
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?
( 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 )
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