Back on my Magical Realism Bullshit

"Hmn." Yeosang stares at the coupe glass, with a very subtle sway of his head to the side, then leans around it to stare from another angle. "Mn?" Mingi hums, using the tips of his fingers too push it a little closer. The violently green surface of the cocktail ripples invitingly. "Hmmmmn." Yeosang sniffs it, even going so far as to wave his hand over the liquid to whaft the aromas closer to his face. His nose scrunches and his leaning goes from 'towards' to 'away'. "Aw…" "Ah.. just, a little bit?" Yeosang pinches in demonstration and Mingi groans because it's hard to make absinthe cocktails less violently fragrant, okay! "Lime?" Yeosang brightens and passes him a lime. Mingi cuts it and squeezes it through his cupped fingers into the glass; the popping and squirting segments make a massive mess of the previously tidy glass but fuck it, it's lab time not service. A few little cells of lime make it through, so he scoops them out with the sugar spoon. They are a horrible texture. Not allowed. Unless they're caviar limes, those get a pass, but not floating in a cocktail. "Hm?" Yeosang accepts the glass this time, looking all smug and rosy cheeked. He licks the rim of the glass first, a tiny kitten-pink flick to check temperature before he commits; they did set it on fire before the lime juice, but he'd have done it anyway. It's just a Yeosang Thing. He must catch a drop of lime juice because his lips pucker a little, but then he does take a little sip. And he hummms; Mingi pumps a fist in the air in success, bouncing on his toes.

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