“Bring me another of these,” I ordered the bartender, who was still sorting through my coins. “And can you bring it in a larger container?”
“I could bring you a pitcher,” he grumbled.
“Perfect. . . and pull a little extra there for your trouble.”
“Say . . . thanks.”
The bartender’s mood and opinion of me seemed to have improved as he made his way to the bar. I congratulated myself for remembering what Edvik had said about tipping. “I suppose it would be pushy to try to point out that you’re drinking on an empty stomach,” the Djin said drily.
“Not at all,” I grinned.
For once I was ahead of him and raised my voice to call the bartender.
“Say! Could you bring me some of that popcorn while you’re at it?”
Most of the bar snacks that were laid out seemed to be in mesh-covered containers to keep them from crawling or hopping away. Amidst these horrors, however, I had spotted a bin of popcorn when I came in, and had made special note of it; thinking that at least some forms of junk food appeared to be the same from dimension to dimension.
“Happy now?”
“I’d be happier if you picked something that was a little less salty,” Kalvin grimaced, “but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
The bartender delivered my pitcher along with a basket of popcorn, then wandered off to greet some new patrons who had just wandered in. I tossed a handful of the popcorn into my mouth and chewed it while I refilled my glass from the pitcher. It was actually more spicy than salty, which made me revise some of my earlier thoughts about the universality of junk food, but I decided not to mention this discovery to Kalvin. He was fussing at me enough already. “So, what do you want to talk about?” I said, forcing myself not to immediately wash down the popcorn with a long drink from the glass.