[Mick finishes examining a scar on the long bar—he'll have to get a couple stories about this place out of the old man before he up and disappears—and swings around, tipping his head, curious.]
[He really hadn't expected to sort out their premises that fast. He'd assumed they'd both look around for a while longer, disagree on a few places, lose out on a deal, that's how this kind of thing was supposed to go, right? So he'd figured celebrating was a long way off.]
...pour us a couple'a drinks and I'll think about it.
[Len had expected the same thing, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was fate, or maybe they just got lucky. Or maybe they'd just made a big mistake, but he didn't think so. It was a good deal, a perfect little place, and he was confident they had found the right one.
He grinned and hopped over the bar, then hunted through the bottles, then he picked up one in particular]
[Or he'd just spent the last couple dozen years around him and knew just what he liked. Either way, it brought out a grin as Mick settled on one of the stools, arms loosely folded as he leaned against the bar. They'd be doing this for a while now, wouldn't they? Better get used to the view.]
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There he pauses and sees Mick looking around. He smiles, watching his friend. It's nice to see Mick this happy]
I think we ought to celebrate.
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Maybe so. What'd you have in mind?
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Hey, you found this place, Mick. I think this is your party. What would you like to do?
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...pour us a couple'a drinks and I'll think about it.
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He grinned and hopped over the bar, then hunted through the bottles, then he picked up one in particular]
Fireball whiskey?
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[Or he'd just spent the last couple dozen years around him and knew just what he liked. Either way, it brought out a grin as Mick settled on one of the stools, arms loosely folded as he leaned against the bar. They'd be doing this for a while now, wouldn't they? Better get used to the view.]