[ midnight takes an entire six-pack of the drink that kaveh is holding, kaveh notes. it's impossible to miss. it has kaveh pause as he looks at him, another thought fitting into place that he isn't quite sure how to parse nor whether he enjoys it or not. the day is odd, like that. when something is off-kilter, everything is. midnight is gregarious, is the thing. kaveh is not sure if he's doing it on purpose, or what kaveh will need to think of it once he has it figured out.

herbal, he says. the two choices presented to him are in cheerful, terribly impersonal packaging. luckily, kaveh has an opinion on everything. observe: ]

The hibiscus. [ kaveh says, immediately. ] Every fruit in this place tastes artificial regardless, so the mango aftertaste promised by the first one will inevitably be disappointing. It shouldn't even be allowed to be called mango. It's more like the memory of a mango that's been put through a three-dimensional modeling software and then reconstructed by someone who thinks they know what a mango tastes like, but lacks the tastebuds to actually try. Hibiscus, at least, is meant to have a bit of a sour aftertaste. It's terrible in alcohol no matter how you slice it, so you won't be missing out on something better.

[ theory set, kaveh reaches for the hibiscus drink, and picks it up. he hefts it in hand, passes it along to midnight with a quirk of his brow. ] You're not going to grab six of these, too, are you?