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You look up at her. “May I see what drinks you mix here?”
“I suppose?” The server replied, gesturing for you to come behind the bar. “Ever make a screwdriver?”
You hesitate briefly, unsure of what she's referring to. “Not yet.” You say.
“It's pretty simple.” The woman sighed, pulling out a strange pair of cups on a stick from behind the counter. The insides were denoted with different measurements, you could easily see, but it's actual function remained a mystery to you. “A screwdriver is a <span class="mu-i">drink</span> made with one of our pure spirits-” She pulled a large bottle out from behind the counter, grimy on the outside but filled with a perfectly clear liquid. “-and a good amount of pipeclod.” She followed it with a large jug of some greenish liquid.
Slang. Of course it was slang. That could potentially be a problem, since you hadn't been taught any beyond the basic concept. You knew that imperial loading workers had slang for certain terms - <span class="mu-i">mats</span> for oversized cargo palettes, <span class="mu-i">lofts</span> for stacked materials and so on - but nothing beyond the scope of your work. Down here, though, there was clearly a lot of slang you still had to learn.
You watch as she pours the ‘pipeclod’ to a seemingly arbitrary level in a glass. “Two fingers.” She explains, as if you should already know what that meant. “Move the nozzle to whatever bottle you're using, but we only have one, so if you lose it, I'll kill you.” Flipping out the cup, she measures out an entire full cup and drops it into the glass. “Sometimes they ask for it on the rocks, but either way, we stir it." She swirls a spoon around the perimeter as she explains. “Hard to get a strainer back here, so we make do with it the improper way. You get all that?"
You glance around at her workstation, but see not stones. Another piece of slang, then. Looking down at the wet tool she was now rinsing under a small tap of water, you review the steps you had seen, then quietly condense the instructions down to something useful.
<span class="mu-i">Four-sevenths pipeclod to three-sevenths spirit, stir slowly. Maximum volume approximately three and a half fluid ounces.</span>
Not outside of your skill level. That was a promising start. You nod to her. “Yes.”
“We also serve mixed spirits and-”
“Fries and two rolls.” A new voice calls from the room behind you, sliding a set of food through the slot.
You internally wince at the heavy-looking tableware and glance back over your shoulder.
“Alright, you're bringing that to-” The server turns around with the tray in hand, stopping when she sees you talking to the customer who just sat down.