Snippet #2439705

"Huh, let's see." He pointed his index directly at one of the bottles, before sliding to his right. "Here," His arm seemed to flow like a gentle scarf, as he reached out to grasp the bottle of clear liquid. He let the bottle dangle between the crease of his fingers, before sliding to the left, reaching for another bottle. The smooth, dark red of this bottle contrasted his pale hands.

He set the two bottles on the counter. "Be right back," Hatchet suddenly dropped behind the bar. A few seconds past, before he reappeared at the other end; two grass green limes and a pair of cocktail glasses were in hand. "They're fresh." He rotated the limes in the palm of his hand, as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The glasses pinged when they met the counter top. He prepared by slipping out a smooth, black thermos. Without word, he poured in a certain level of ounces from each bottle. The two liquids swished and swashed around inside the container, as Hatchet elevated the flow by lifting the bottles over his head for a quick second. Suddenly, he snapped on the lid, and began shaking the thermos. He swayed to the right and then to the left, as if he was dancing. His arms pumped, almost violently. Though, his expression remained straight and undefined by any emotion toward his minor performance.

The mixed drink flowed out from the thermos. The color was perfect; an olive yellow flowed into the glasses. "Now, here's the delicate part." He scooped up a lime, but he lacked a knife. The tips of his black nails had already dripped over. He bared his claws, fine enough to peel the surface of anything his eyes desired. His thumb hooked into the first lime. The digit merely smoothed over the citrus, and a thin spiral of green skin curled about Hatchet's hand. The lime peel was pinched between his increasingly sharp talons, as he laid it over the rim of the glass.

He pushed the drink toward Fedelia. His eyes smiled. He removed his cloak of please, and condemned the moment with a perverse smirk. "A classic Martini with a lime twist." He flicked the rim of the glass with the hooked point of his nail. A melodic ping hummed from the drink, as the liquid began to ripple.

"Enjoy, and please tell me if anything disappoints." He leaned over the bar to exhibit himself more clearly. "It's a Martini for your thoughts, after all."