Of Whiskey and Steel (Yorishou)

Yorishou has fought almost everything you can think of. But never has he heard such a strange question, especially in such a place as this. The word whiskey in a place of training seemed almost alien, a situation he had only heard in rumour from a whisper. Most likely covered up by the concerning captains.

But as the captain always said, fun is more important than work. And if that meant he had to drink whiskey instead of training, then he would be willing to follow that order to the letter. He had almost made it to the centre of the grounds, originally intent on finding a fight. More out of habit than an actual want for a fight, he hated that this was the case. But with little else to get done, it was certainly a way to pass time.

He turned on heel and made back towards the entrance, his mind had been distracted and sluggish, meaning he had even completly missed the other shinigami's presense. Now he felt it, strong, maybe even as strong as his own. Maybe stronger but repressed. Who knew, who cared, he has whiskey. The wind ruffled over the field, making the grass bend in a wave of greens, truly a beautifull sight. He had no idea how it was still so green when so many people fought on it. But the wind was blowing towards him, meaning the other shinigami's voice could carry. But Yorishou's could not. When within raised voice talking distance, but not shouting, he replied "I cannot deny, it would make a pleasant change to my week."

He walked closer, and making eye contact "Did you bring tumblers or are we chugging from the bottle friend?" placing his zan but not the sheath on the table in a display of friendship and nuetrality. This was not an indication for the other to do the same, but as the newcomer he thought it would be best for him to prove himself. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the table. A few shinigami started to come through the entrance, hearing thier voices echoeing. He grinned at the other man, raising an eyebrow. Turning his head down the entrance he called out "Sorry fella's, training grounds are closed today. Better luck next time." To chorus of swearing and curses. He turned back for the mans reaction. "The buffoons might hit a bottle" he said apoligetically.

Yorishou accepted the bottle with only a breif hesitation. His zan and he shared a dislike for germs, and dirt, in fact it was damn near impossible to get anything on he, himself or his zan. Which would come in useful later if this guy throws up on him. But he hoped only germs were in the bottle, it would be slightly concerning if this guy had dirt in his mouth. However asking the nice guy to open the other bottle would have been rude, and so he had to suck it up and brush his teeth later.

He grinned, "Well then I Yorishou, of the 11th am honored to have been chosen to partake in such an exquisite and costly uhhh" looking at the bottle "whisky" in an attempt at noble humour, taking his own swig of the whisky, his face jolted to the side in a reaction to the taste. It had certainly been a while since he had last been drunk, several years in fact. Blinking a few times, he held back out the bottle "Smooth" he breathed. Chuckling once to show the humour, whisky was not his favourite to drink, more partial to sweeter drinks with diabetes on the ingrediants list. But drink was drink, and it certainly did taste expensive.

He just hoped it was the stuff you get your eyesight back from after two days.