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It had been a while since La Fee Verte had gone all out and held a party. Nothing about this particular day demanded celebration, but sometimes the days with nothing to throw a party for were the best occasions.

She hadn't exactly gone all-out, but the karaoke machine had been topped off with new selections - Sadako, taking a guise that was less 'waterlogged corpse' and more 'alluringly damp', was currently doing a creditable rendition of "Sir Patrick Spens" - and she was stretching her mixologist's art and preparing an array of increasingly elaborately layered pousse-cafés, lined up on the bar in an implict dare for the bold drinker. Occasionally, she'd set one on fire.

The Master found the spectacle entertaining, but he was well aware that such beverages were mainly useful in the creation of truly spectacular hangovers, and he rarely felt the need to cultivate such a thing. But La Fee Verte did make a good Sidecar, and he was sipping one and absentmindedly nibbling on a new minor success; the little pretzel sticks common on Earth bore a striking outward resemblance to a type of snack that had been popular on Gallifrey when he was a child, and with some careful spell use, he'd been able to conjure the memory of the taste into the vastly inferior Earth food. Of course, the Gallifreyan version was I-dare-you spicy, but anyone who tried to make off with any without asking deserved a little pain.

[[give a holler in your subject line if you're trying to get La Fee Verte, Sadako, or the Master's attention, or feel free to belt out some karaoke! The drinks are completely mundane, but very strong, sticky-sweet, and the flavor combinations are dubious at best.]]