excerpt from soulflare, the second cid/vincent fic i’m writing for nanowrimo 2013.
in this excerpt, vincent is on a sidequest to find alcohol strong enough to affect those with mako constitutions, which leads him to a most unlikely destination. or: i have way too much fun worldbuilding post-meteorfall.
It turned out that a box of Corel mulled wine cost as much as a week’s worth of provisions, if Vincent actually needed to eat. After flying all that way, though, he wasn’t about to leave empty-handed, and forked over the money with a glare at the shopkeeper. Upon closer inspection he wasn’t so sure that it was going to be that strong, which meant he was going to have to get something else on top of it.
With the sun high over his head and the day bleeding into afternoon, that left only the Gold Saucer.
It wasn’t actually an amusement park anymore, at least not the way it used to be. The lack of mako power had set it back for years, but apparently they’d tapped into an oil reserve under the desert in the past year. The place was more of a resort now, something of a family-friendly alternative to Costa del Sol and a place the people could go for some relaxation in this embattled world of theirs.
It was more hideously gaudy than ever before.
His lifetime pass was still valid, though, and even if it hadn’t been Vincent wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He went straight to the hotel bar once he made it past the entrance, scowling behind his cloak when she saw that the ridiculous tubes were still the only method of transportation around the place, and gave the man behind the bar a venomous glare.
"What’s the strongest thing you have?" he asked. Planet, after coming here he was going to need it.
"Uh, well, we have some tequila—"
"Aside from that."
The bartender shrank under the look Vincent was giving him. “We just got some stuff in from Wutai last week,” he said. “I, uh, I’m not sure what it is, really—”
"Is it enough to take down a SOLDIER?" Vincent said. He was through beating around the bush.
"No question! It’s— um, let me see—" He scrambled behind the bar and came out with a tall bottle. "Uh, it’s about 95 proof, sir."
"I’ll take it. The whole thing."
"Y-Yes, sir. That’s 60 GP—"
“Gil,” Vincent growled. He’d always hated the proprietary currency the Golden Saucer used, not to mention the ridiculous games they had to do to get it. It wasn’t like they hadn’t purchased the merchandise elsewhere in the world for regular gil.
"I— well— okay."
Vincent gave the label a passing glance before he tucked it in his bag. He’d never heard of vodka before, but he hoped it was strong.