REAVER ❝ MIKEY ❞ THE TYPHOON

It was no real secret to most of the Typhoon that Michael was a drinker. Although he had lightened up on the booze considerably since after his pregnancy, he still enjoyed the occasional drink. He would've liked to take Roxie out for another night at the tavern for some fun, but for some reason she kept saying no to him. He knew that she didn't like the tavern all that much, but she had always occasionally indulged him... maybe she was just feeling sick, or something along those lines. Either way, the reaver had still wanted to have a bit of fun, and that meant getting creative. Thankfully, even though the bobcat was completely awful at baking or cooking, he was pretty good at mixing drinks. It was a delicate art, even more so with paws instead of hands like humans had, but Michael had managed. It had become almost like a hobby for him over time, when he and Trevor weren't out pulling off some interesting heist. Plus, there was a good part of Michael that just enjoyed showing off, so a talent like drink mixing? It fit perfectly.

It had taken a bit of time for Michael to get all of the supplies he needed, but thankfully it wasn't too hard, once he managed to convince those at the tavern to give him some things. And maybe just a little bit of that convincing was actually just the bobcat snatching something for his own purposes. He'd give it back later though... probably. Either way, the reaver was eventually able to set up a table near the edge of town with everything he needed, including various alcohol, a shaker, and plenty of other essentials, like ice and little umbrellas. Once everything was set up, the feline pressed his paws gently against the table, eyes lit up with mischief before he called out, "Hey, if anybody wants me to mix them a drink, come over and ask! I'll make anything you want... and if you don't know what you want, you can feel free to ask me to surprise you. Uh... no kids, obviously. Please." He really didn't need anybody wringing his neck because he had accidentally gotten a bunch of kids drunk. Of course, he wasn't actually too worried, considering the fact that he knew most, if not all, of the kids that lived within The Typhoon.

DEALER ❝ MIKEY ❞ THE TYPHOON

Honestly, Michael wasn't sure that he had ever properly met Rosemary, despite the relations to each other that they both had. He figured that sharing a drink with her was as good a way as any to get to know her, even if she did have some odd restrictions on what she could actually drink. It seemed as though she basically operated on a gluten-free diet, at least if he was remembering correctly what that term meant. Chuckling a little, the dealer nodded before speaking, "I think I've got something that you can have... just fruity enough, with none of what you mentioned." He moved behind his makeshift little bar, grabbed some lime, mint, and some rum. The process was a but complicated, involving pressing the lime and mint against the side of the glass before he mixed the rum and club soda together. Eventually he pushed the glass forward, saying with a pleased hum, "Here you go. A gluten-free mojito. Slightly fruity, with lime and mint to balance each other out, along with none of that other stuff." Michael actually prided himself on his ability to pick drinks for others, as sad as that was.

When Aphra approached, Michael initially considered telling her to fuck right off, but that instinct was overcome by his even larger desire to show off. Maybe if Aphra got a good drink in her, she'd stop being such a bitch. He doubted it, but wishful thinking was there, at least. With his short tail twitching behind him, the dealer muttered, "I think I've got something for you too, Aphra. And it's not poison. Not unless you drink too many at once, I suppose." Cinnamon was an interesting flavor for drinks, but he supposed he could see the appeal of it. Grabbing the fireball and hard cider that he had snatched from the tavern, Michael carefully mixed both together, popping a cinnamon stick in it just for a little bit of kick. Pushing the drink forward just as he had done with Rosemary, he spoke with a hum, "Foolproof Fall cocktail. Equal parts fireball and hard cider. Should taste pretty good, and like cinnamon." Hopefully she would like it, since drinking would get her to keep her mouth shut for a while.

It seemed that her brother had become a bit of a barista, the thought made the Quartermaster giggle in amusement as she walked over with both ears perked forward "Keep this up, Michael and you'll run the tavernkeeper outta a job." She would say in a playful manner only to glance over at Aphra feeling a faint growl leave her when she saw Aphra try pushing Rosemary. Her pupils were narrowed though she refrained from saying much, Roxanne would look at Michael's little set up only to sigh quietly. Roxie couldn't exactly drink though not that she wanted to anyways, she didn't feel comfortable drinking with other's for the most part anyways with the exception of family, Michael, and her girlfriend.

She could always ask for a water though she doubted that Michael had that so with a smile on her maw, Roxie would nod in the bobcats direction "Y'know what I like," Whenever Michael and her went to drink in the tavern, Roxie would always order a few piña coladas and most were just made with blended ice rather than the rum. But she had drank the alcoholic one from time to time, she supposed that this could count as a playful test for Michael and see if he truly knew her.

I GUESS THERE'S A LOT OF
[align=center]STUFF WE DON'T KNOW

DEALER ❝ MIKEY ❞ THE TYPHOON

At Roxie's approach, Michael found himself chuckling and smiling faintly, amused by how she chose to say hello. The bobcat said with an amused hum, a grin curling at the edges of his muzzle, "Hmm... maybe I'll just try ditching the dealer job and go for the tavernkeeper job. I've proven that I'm already pretty damn good at it." However, the thief did find himself hesitating when Roxanne asked him for a drink. He knew what she liked, yes, but he wasn't sure whether or not she actually wanted alcohol in it. Ultimately, he decided against it, figuring that the new quartermaster wouldn't want to get tipsy in the middle of the day. He mixed her a piña colada, occasionally having to pull his paws back from the blended ice that he had, just because the chill was starting to hurt. He eventually pulled the drink forward to Rox, saying with a chuckle, "Piña colada with no alcohol for you. I know you don't actually like the taste." Michael didn't really like the taste of rum either, but he didn't actually really like the taste of any alcohol. That wasn't why he drank alcohol, really.

When Aphra responded to his drink of choice for her, Michael felt a little smirk of pride coming to his face. While the fugitive didn't really care about the pure white feline's opinion, it did feel good to have his skills acknowledged. He nodded, muttering softly, "Mm, alright. I don't mind making drinks for people... helps with my own urges, honestly." The dealer considering delving a little bit more into his own alcoholic tendencies, but he cut himself off when Franklin came running over, a grin coming to the bobcat's face. He chuckled when he heard Frank, a warm purr leaving him as he touched his nose to the pup's head, "Well, hello there big squirt. I think I've got something perfect for you." He leaned behind the table then, mixing a few things before he popped back up. As he pushed forward a glass of orange and red, he said cheerfully, "Here you are, Frankie! A Shirley temple, just for my little pup."