( he's gonna be waiting awhile. that astringent licorice taste wasn't going anywhere. not until perhaps when his tastebuds were totally burned down by the brunt of the alcohol. her cognac is a more friendly monster, a fruity spice along with the burn.

existential crisis or some other kind of crisis, whoever this is reminds her of a car crash on legs. there's a crisis of some sort knocking about in there, and it doesn't matter to her what psychological definition he'd like to pin on it. )

Well, good luck with that. Seems like you're more likely to both die, and around here that's not even a promise of staying dead for long.

( she's not sure she buys it, nor that whoever doesn't come back is really and truly dead. but she also isn't leaping toward a more permanent death to find out. she'd been willing to give her life for a reason last time around; just because she can isn't much of a motivator. )