lowdowndirtydxceiver:

“Never said anythin’ of the sort," he shrugged, aloof, inhaling the scent of his whiskey. Names were fleeting anyway. For the duration of this little stint of the night? Sure. But after this was all over? Like he’d ever see her again. And even any contemplation of a morning after escapade was pushed far from the reaches of his thoughts—not that she wasn’t nice to look at, in his mind, but he had enough experience with crazy on his own ship; no need to bring back anything more.

An incredulous and self-assured look crossed his face, laughing to himself. "Close ‘nough, ain’t it? Like y’ said, no reason t’ remember it after this is all said n’ done, don’t matter none t’ either of us." Without shame, he watched her tasting the pineapple juice with a smirk on his face. ”I think y’ could handle this just fine, if you had any way you couldwin." Another shrug, watching her. 

"Alrigh’ take yer shots in three, two, one." Barely half a beat at the end of his sentence, he took to practically inhaling his own drink. Smacking his lips, he eyed the empty glass and savored the taste, taking his time. Of course, under any fair game, there would be no way to finish four glasses of whiskey in the same time span of someone taking three shots.

But this was Jayne. Fair game wasn’t his style. Resolutely, he flipped his empty glass upside down and back onto the bar, covering one of her remaining drinks. "Remember how y’ agreed y’ couldn’t touch my glasses? Well…" In a bit more haste, he swallowed the smooth amber liquid of his second glass, then the third, and the fourth. "I think that means that I’m the winner.” 

Goddamn that Ryncol was like acid. She knew it was meant for Krogans and would eat her insides right up, but Jack was a trucker and would risk her life just to have a little bit of fun–well, not exactly as she exaggerated a bit in her head. Alright, so she had her three shots and most likely will end up in Huerta in the morning but that would have been better than waking up somewhere she didn’t know. Those routines were painful for her especially shacking up with a softy who wanted to cook her breakfast, all that bullshit was a headache for her. When he finally did the countdown Jack scooped up one shot glass and tossed back the liquid, squirming and turning red as she forced herself to swallow the painful alcoholic drink. Ryncol was pretty bad, like hell it was bad. It was probably the worst mistake she had ever made in her life–getting involved with this cheating bastard was probably a mistake too. She didn’t even care for the other two shot glasses, Jack was busy clutching at her throat with one hand and slamming her fist into the bar counter top with the other. Once she felt the rest of the Ryncol run down her throat she looked up at him to see he had blocked off her third class.

"Wh-What?”

Jack’s eyes darted to his lips trying to understand what he had just said before realizing he was finishing his whiskey drinks. Quickly she fumbled to pick up the second and shoot that one back, also grabbing the pineapple juice hoping it’ll help with the pain but it didn’t. A small whimper poured from her mouth as she hunched over the bar, the Ryncol was working pretty fast. 

“I think you can kiss my…my…ass…bitch.”