There was only so much Sasha could hesitate after the proverbial glass clinking.  Lack of experience aside, he'd gathered from the context clues that this wouldn't be a wholly pleasant experience.  But, if he hesitated too much, he'd witness the effects in Kohaku which would only build further anticipation.  Sasha had long ago decided if he ever ended up in a group of people destined for torture or execution, he'd volunteer to be first.  Better to get it over with than to fully educate oneself on what lay ahead. 

It was probably a good thing squibs couldn't be occlumens. 

Scheiß, ja! Sasha declared in self-motivation as he drained the glass in several large gulps.  He held his breath for a few seconds, delaying the inevitable moment as long as possible when the mixture's aromas fully assaulted his sinuses.  Finally, he exhaled, wrinkling his nose against the foul muskiness. 

"You'd think, given all the ingenuity of human beings, we'd have found more pleasant ways to get sloshed." 

Over the years of carefully dividing his wizarding and muggle existences, there were some topics that were extremely commonplace in one world and practically non-existent in the other.  He couldn't ever remember broaching the topic of personal style strategies in the wizarding world and, normally (or, soberly,) Sasha would have shrugged off the topic and returned to one that was more comfortably fitting to his surroundings.  He was starting to understand the concept of liquid courage.

The liquor helped.  So did the absolutely novel surroundings.  "My height - though I'm too scrawny to be properly imposing.  It's more a matter of accentuating my ..."  He pursed his lips, trying to find the right wording.  "tall, straight-edged, refined features.  Prim.  Nobel aristocrat.  Albino peacock."  He shrugged and blushed.  With luck, the alcohol and dark room would work in his favor.  "Granted, I haven't had a lot of lessons since my first school - before puberty."  Things...assets might have changed.  He should probably get a fresh perspective. 

Sasha shifted back in his seat, providing himself enough space to properly look at Kohaku, ignoring the touch of waviness that had more to do with alcohol and less to do with the other young man's assets.  "Combination of your shoulders and the dark, sultry look." Sasha grinned and, again, felt a hint of warmth rise in his cheeks.  "You're better suited to dark colors.  You could get away with playing more with bold contrast." 

"We have found better ways to get sloshed." Kohaku confirmed, "They're called lemon drops." Or mojitos. Or margaritas. Or pina coladas. "I'm just a masochist." He'd also made Sasha drink one, "Er. Maybe a sado-masochist." He let out a short laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was truly a comedic genius.

He focused his attention on what Sasha was saying, which was getting a bit difficult now that the drink from Death & Co. had set in.

Was Sasha taller than him? Either way, Kohaku was certain that he was heavier than Sasha, even if he wasn't completely bulky anymore. Kohaku had traded the protein shakes and strenuous lifting for a more moderate workout. Now he was more lean, athletic but not a beefcake like.... Adon Eleor, or Rick Donovan. Still, he had at least twenty pounds on Sasha, and they were nearly the same height. Schlagenweit was too skinny, and not in the way naturally skinny people were.

Wait, he was talking about peacocks? Kohaku nodded like he understood what that meant. Probably something to do with looking refined and royal and wealthy. Showing off, flamboyantly.

One thing stood out to him, though.

"Dark and sultry? You think I have a dark and sultry look?" He raised an eyebrow at Sasha. He agreed about the shoulders, his shoulders were fantastic. Kohaku had never heard sultry used to describe him. But then again, he usually dated older guys who described him as 'cute.' He could feel heat rising to his cheeks, but his skin didn't flush too easily. Besides, he could pass it off as the drink.

"Has anyone told you that you look like a young Prince William?" Kohaku asked, "He used to be a teen idol. So that's a good thing."

“Are you telling me you’re getting enjoyment out of my suffering?” Sasha asked, grinning and arching an eyebrow in Kohaku’s direction when the other man laughed.  His gaze tracked back to the residual dark liquid on the bottom of his glass before shaking his head.  If his sole goal was getting drunk, they could just drink straight ethanol and water.

“Pick a number between one and twenty,” he posed to Kohaku. 

"Dark and sultry? You think I have a dark and sultry look?”

Through the slight haze of alcohol, Sasha gave Kohaku another appraising look.  Assessing another's appearances wasn’t a particularly common past time of his; it usually felt awkward and invasive.  The type of activity that seemed prone to leaving people offended just as often as not.  But, the alcohol helped.

Sasha shrugged, grinning awkwardly as he traced a polygon into the condensation on his empty glass with a finger.  “I do.  But, not in the generic Bond villain way.  More the mysterious figure under a streetlight in the fog way.  I definitely don’t think it’s a bad thing.”   

Sasha snorted a laugh and shook his head.  “Not really?  But, I don’t think most witches and wizards follow the royal family,” Sasha pointed out.  Or, at least, not those that were likely to point out such things.  “However, there may be some really distant relation.  My mother was a Countess, through an old Duke of Bavaria, who is somehow distantly related to Wilhelm the II, who was cousin to George V and-“  Sasha broke off before he fell too far down that rabbit hole.  It wasn't just the old pureblood families that were all distantly related. 

Sasha cut himself off, shaking his head.  “So, you’re saying I’m a teen idol?  Should I join a boy band?” 

Mysterious figure under a streetlight. Kohaku kind of liked that despite the villainous implications.  Besides, antiheroes and villains were always more interesting than a lawful good hero. It appealed to his vanity-- and above all, it seemed like a genuine compliment. Not forced just because he pressed for Sasha to elaborate.

He did his very best to appear interested when Sasha began to talk about royal families and bloodlines and pedigrees or whatever it was rich people used to keep track of their ancestry. Kohaku could barely keep track of his own family, let alone somebody else's. Or a famous person's.

Okay, maybe Kohaku knew a lot about the Kardashians but... Sh. No one needed to know that.

"If you can sing or dance, you can join a boy band. If that's your next career choice, I stand by it 100%. Just don't forget me when you become famous." He finished off his drink. "Oh, and the number? Uh." He'd forgotten to answer that, "Fifteen."

"Fifteen."

Sasha nodded once and waved over the bartender.  When he ... she ... he ... made it over to them, Sasha picked up the drink menu and, without looking at the text, pointed at whatever was listed at number 15.  "Two of those."  The bartender arched a curious pierced eyebrow in their direction before plopping two fat tumbler glasses by the bar sink. 

"Like any self-respecting altar boy, I can carry a tune appropriately.  But, dancing ... at least the kind you're referring to ..."  Sasha shook his head.  He could do a mean waltz, but he doubted that's what Kohaku had in mind.  "I look like a flamingo being electrocuted.  Too stringy."  He lifted his arms enough to flap his hands slightly, prompting another curious glance from the bartender.  "You know those floppy inflatable banners some muggle shops have?" 

"Here are your two Krakens."

Two drinks were set on the bar in front of them along with a small plate garnished with two strips of nori.  A single large ice cube was clinking around a dark blue green liquid.  "Hmm."  Sasha gave Kohaku a dubious grin before pulling one of the glasses towards him.  As he did, a thin, green tentacle splashed over the edge of the ice cube before disappearing back into the drink. 

"Interesting choice." 

Kohaku tried to imagine Sasha dancing with that exact imagery-- a flamingo being electrocuted.

"Well," He said dryly, "I'm sure someone's into that. For everything weird there's always someone that likes it. The internet is proof. Just google it." Kohaku insisted, "You can find anything on the internet." He didn't have to explain that to Sasha-- Sasha was one of the more muggle-savvy wizards he knew. Muggleborns tended to be. They had to be, really. They grew up in two different cultures. It was kind of an act of self-preservation.

He gave the drink a wary look.

Did that thing have tentacles?

This wasn't the time to wuss out.

"There's probably something on the internet about that too." He said, "That seems plausible."

"I think I'll pass on posting flamingo-esque dancing on facebook," Sasha confirmed with a grin.  "That's not something that needs to be immortalized forever.  I'll let the ballroom dancing ones do the talking." 

A large voice in Sasha's head wanted to slide the drink back across the counter; did this violate the rules of vegetarianism?  Was that living or like those chocolate frogs?  But, out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the bartender watching them.  Subtly, he nudged Kohaku with his elbow and nodded his head in the bartender's direction.

"Seems this has become a bit of a dare.  On three."  He murmured one, two, three under his breath and poured the drink into his mouth. 

The dark blue-green liquid was slightly sweet and had a touch of sea-saltiness.  A tiny, tentacled kraken clung to the backside of the ice cube, but the ice cube dissolved into a burst of tropical flavors when it hit the mouth and the kraken fell as its erstwhile platform collapsed.  The coconut-flavored kraken squirmed in his mouth, a long tentacle slipping between his lips before Sasha managed to chew and swallow. 

"Zum Teufel," Sasha finally squeaked, shaking his head.  "That was ... interesting. And ..." And, was diligently chasing the previous drink to his head.  He looked at Kohaku and grinned.  "Kind of exciting.  Glad I'm able to sleep on the train, tomorrow.  No expectations of pro- productive."   

"You have ballroom dancing pictures on Facebook?" His cheeks felt hot, and he didn't need to look in the mirror to be able to know that his face was flushed from the effects of drinking. Kohaku looked at his tentacle-y drink with less apprehension than he would have when sober. Drunk Kohaku thought that the drink was creepy, but still acceptable. Sober Kohaku would not have gone anywhere near the Squidward Tentacles. Or whatever it was called.

Kraken. That's right.

It was now or never. He downed the drink as quickly as possible, and it didn't taste as bad as he thought it would.

But then Squidward was in his mouth, squirming.

With nothing but pure alarm on his face, he turned to look at Sasha, pointing at his mouth. "MMMURUHHH!" He exclaimed, "Mrrp?" Was he expected to chew this?

Fuck, was this thing alive? He was a vegetarian sometimes!

Then, like the murderer he was, he chewed Squidward up and swallowed him.

"Nevermind about school or the train. Did we just torture and kill a sea creature? Or. Uh, was it one of those spell things?" He tried to put a joking tone in his voice, but part of him was legit concerned.

Sasha had nodded, confirming the presence of compromising dancing pictures on facebook.  He would have confessed the presence of some video, as well, but that was before the welfare of the poor kraken had come into question. 

"I ... don't think so."  In reality, Sasha had no evidence that could confirm or deny whether they'd tortured an animal.  It was probably only wishful thinking, but he could craft an analytical argument for just about any stance.  If Hogwarts had had a debate team, he liked to think he would have been the star. 

"I think it was too small for a real kraken.  And, it tasted too...gummi.  I think it's like one of those chocolate frogs that's charmed to jump."  He cast a glance at the bartender, wondering how uncool it would be to ask. 

The bartender had moved on to other customers.  As the fresh dose of ethanol settled in his bloodstream, Sasha's mind slowed; the usual flurry of thoughts, concerns, questions and worries slowing to a simple trickle.  His gaze slid from the bartender and briefly over the previously mentioned bull and bear before finally settling back on Kohaku. 

"So, what are you?" he asked, suddenly keenly aware that he didn't know.  "If I'm, you know, a gaylister.  What are you?" 

Kohaku was relieved at the reassurance that the kraken wasn't a real creature. Magic was so convincing. Chocolate frogs had fooled him on more than one occasion. Sure, they only had one jump in them, but that jump was completely realistic. Why was he thinking about chocolate frogs? Sasha was talking. Focus on Sasha.

"What am I?" He echoed back, confused for a brief moment until he caught up. Once he did, the smile he gave Sasha was a relaxed, easy one. "Not a bear. Not an otter either." He was far too hairless for that, "Naked mole rat?" That wasn't even a thing. Or was it?

The squib threw an arm around Sasha's shoulders-- the two were close in height. Sasha was a bit taller though. "I think I'm a jock. I stay in shape, I like sports. There's not really a title for a jock who plays WoW until three in the morning though."

So far, their little gay bar lesson had covered bears and ... what was it?  Moose?  No.  Bulls.  Not Otters.  Sasha could only assume they were men that liked to swim.  Naked mole rats...they must wear glasses and enjoy gardening, or something.  Recycling.

Sasha's eyebrows hitched up in surprise, the alcohol-muted version of the flinch that usually accompanied sudden gestures in his direction.  Aided by the alcohol, the reflex faded almost immediately and was replaced with a slight grin.  Wasn't it just an hour or so ago that Sasha had worried the other patrons would think they were there together together?  Thanks to the alcohol, that didn't seem to be quite as much of a worry. 

"A jock?  What sports?  I like sports.  Maybe I'm a jock, too."  Almost as quickly, Sasha shook his head.  Even with the alcohol, even he could see the flaw in his logic.  "Polo probably isn't a jock sport, is it?" 

"Maybe there needs to be a title.  Or, subtitle.  Just ... what do play?  Let me guess."  He closed one eye.  Presumably because that was the magical gesture for divining one's Warcraft class.  "A Druid.  No...a rogue?  A Rogue Jock."

"You're not a jock." Kohaku said, "You don't have the vibe." It wasn't a bad thing though. You didn't have to be a jock to be cool-- in fact, there were plenty of jocks who were actually uncool. He couldn't think of any at the moment, but he knew they existed. Lance Armstrong, maybe? "I play football. Rugby. I run. I lift." What else? "Other shit... I don't know." He and his sister led active lifestyles. Or at least, they tried to.

He liked the idea of a subtitle though.

Rogue jock.

"Sasha, how did you know that I play rogues?" Did he tell him about his Dragon Age playthrough? Did he tell him about his former Dungeons and Dragons campaign? "Do I seem like a rogue? Except... I don't sneak up on people with knives." Dramatic pause. ".... Or... Do I?"

"The vibe?" Sasha repeated, with a dubious grin.  "You mean, I'm vibe-less?"  Under more sober circumstances, Sasha might have realized how foolish that sounded. 

Sasha tilted the empty drink glass on it's side and rolled it mindlessly against he bar top.  "Uh oh.  Football.  Who's your team?  I fear there might be some rivalry."  Now, they were getting into serious turf.  "I wanted to play football.  Never rugby, though.  It seems very ... physical." 

He grinned smugly.  "I told you."  Score one for his fashion sense.  "Mysterious figure under the light post.  007-ish.  Pipe-smoking detective.  It all fits.  I could definitely see you as one with knives up your sleeves.  Surely, the only ones that find out, definitively don't live long enough to share your secret."