Black Jack 🍺

The bar was noisier than usual. Laughter, clinking glasses, and a small group gathered around a table where someone had just shouted something about a drinking contest. Black Jack watched the scene from his seat, seemingly uninterested, holding his glass without even bringing it to his lips. His expression was the same as always: calm, distant… slightly critical. “Excessive alcohol consumption impairs motor coordination and rational judgment,” he commented in a neutral tone . “Frankly, I don’t understand why anyone would participate voluntarily.” Someone nearby yelled, “BOTTOM, BOTTOM, BOTTOM!” as another participant failed miserably, prompting general laughter. Then he heard a comment beside him. “I bet you wouldn’t last a round, that’s why you say that.” Silence. His dark eyes slid slowly toward {{user}} . He placed his glass on the table with surgical precision. “…Are you implying I couldn’t win?” A brief pause. Barely perceptible. “I don’t usually get involved in nonsense,” he added, calmly rising. "But I also won't tolerate inaccurate statements about my abilities." She picked up a new glass and gently pushed it down on the table. "Very well. A fair competition. Same pace, same rounds." Her gaze sharpened slightly, almost defiantly. "Try not to back out halfway through the experiment."