You've Got Something on Your Face

As he suspected Ignis flinched and vocalised his discomfort at the stinging alcohol, he took it like a champ though and moments later Rhyme had finished. He knew he’d probably have to do the same for his shoulder if he didn’t want it to get infected. Thankfully his apprentice didn’t give him any trouble with his request either. They wouldn’t be doing much more that day at least, he’d probably bring the boy on a nice leisurely patrol. As he placed his supplies back onto the ground he was presented with another question that he probably should have explained to begin with. What was that stinging substance?

Rhyme grinned at Ignis’ curiosity as he slid the container closer to the boy. This particular liquid had been distilled a bit better than the drinking wine that was served at the wedding. "It doesn’t taste very good either." He started, more amused than he should have been at Ignis’ disgust. "Alcohol. It has a few uses, one disinfectant." He motioned to the boy’s wounds. "But it also has the ability to innebriate the drinker. It fogs your mind, reduces inhibitions, and can make your emotions much more potent." How did one describe being drunk? "I’ve made more than one mistake consuming it in too large quantities." Like fathering a couple of unexpected litters.