Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
Then again, Uzoji supposed, there was certainly enough demand for it.
Uzoji opened his mouth to object when Jean asked Cadoc to fetch a bottle, shaking his head slightly, but he did Jean the courtesy of holding silent.
“Thank you,” Uzoji said, instead of his planned objections. He set down his glass and cigar, and took the brandy from Cadoc with a pleased smile, turning it slightly from side to side and admiring it. “A fitting name,” Uzoji grinned at Jean, and very carefully set the bottle down on the side table of his chair. He took another sip of the brandy, and set the glass back down in favor of the cigar once more.
“I shall savor it,” Uzoji said, and he meant every word. “I have in my room a bottle of Thul’Amat bourbon, my personal favorite,” he grinned at Jean. “It’s already open, or I’d make a gift of it to you, but I’d be honored if you’d allow me to share a glass or two with you some time. I’d enjoy hearing what you think of it.”
Uzoji doubted Jean would have ever tried the bourbon before; it was simply unavailable outside of Thul’Amat. The bourbon itself was brewed by the Static conversation faculty; the position of Brewer was one held for ten years at a time, and the responsible professor had the authority of overseeing the process, and was even allowed to make minor revisions, though such changes were done with great respect and only following deep (and lengthy) deliberation. Osefe pez Nuru, Uzoji’s favorite instructor, had held it for the last several years, and he had snuck a bottle to Uzoji during his visit over the summer, in addition to the one he’d gotten as a good-bye gift.
It would, Uzoji decoded, be rather fitting to share a glass with Jean. He had let Niccolette try it, of course, rather eagerly. She had not liked it. He supposed no one was perfect.
“How do you find Brunnhold?” Uzoji asked. He grinned, and took another drag on the cigar, exhaling the smoke into the air. “I would never have guessed there was a prize-fighting ring in the city.” There was no sting in his voice now, no lingering hurt or resentment, only genuine curiosity.