[ The elevator opens up to the gardens with a minute to spare. He'd spent his time ducking down to the corner store to grab what he's got tucked under his arm: a six pack of green glass bottles, still cool from the fridge. ]
Evening. [ He calls out when he's close enough, making his way over to the railing with a brisk step to set the drinks down on the nearby bench. He nods at them - ] It's not the good stuff, but it does the job.
[ The Concordian equivalent of beer doesn't look or taste much different from what he knows back home. His mouth forms a line, then he tilts his head, looking down at the bottle caps. ]
no subject
Evening. [ He calls out when he's close enough, making his way over to the railing with a brisk step to set the drinks down on the nearby bench. He nods at them - ] It's not the good stuff, but it does the job.
[ The Concordian equivalent of beer doesn't look or taste much different from what he knows back home. His mouth forms a line, then he tilts his head, looking down at the bottle caps. ]