[It's a day for surprises, it seems. This isn't quite the Asra of his memories, but then time changes people, wears their edges into different shapes the way the ocean wears on sea glass, and he thinks (hopes) he isn't quite the same person he'd been three years ago, when they'd pushed and pulled at each other in ways that had led to deep-running wounds as they'd come apart. And to have been here half a year, forced into a position that is all wrong for him-- some level of transformation is an inevitability.

But it's not altogether a transformation he dislikes.

And the truth is he had let the betting part side from his mind, eclipsed by the desire for temporary mental obliteration, and with the reminder comes more surprises that leaves him slightly, vaguely flustered. Because there's subtle drama and quiet emphasis and really he has to wonder what exactly Asra has in mind, the kind of thing he'd make him wear if he were given free reign over his wardrobe for two days.

It might have been cause for larger concern, if he didn't think he could win.]

Oh, um, well, that sounds ominous, but--

[And here he smiles again, bright and entirely confident.]

But I doubt you could drink me under the table, I'm practically twice your height, it'd take twice the amount.

[Which he's aware is flawed logic, but.]

More importantly, though, what do I get when I win?

[Because one should begin with the certainty one intends to go on with.]