"I only know as much Italian and Spanish to converse with soldiers," Zechs said, his expression wry, "so I likely know at least half of those ten thousand curses. Yet they are not languages I would claim fluency in."

Zechs caught the slight nervousness in Hakuba's words, and wondered at it, his eyes narrowing slightly. Yet the man had been drugged a few times before, and knew what that felt like. He did not suspect such a thing of the boy. Of course, he didn't consider magic as a possibility.

Smirking a little darkly, Zechs drank more of the Bloody Mary. He didn't particularly like vodka at all, nor did he enjoy much the spicy taste of the drink. But he could see the wisdom in Hakuba's words.

Ruefully, he said, "It is not my habit to drink heavily." This was almost true. He did not count the recent two years, because he had hardly noticed he had begun to drink when extremely angry. In the past, anyhow, such things weren't his habit. Which meant his next words were completely true. "Even as a soldier, I was rarely intoxicated, and rarely hung over."

"Aspirin and multivitamins seemed to have done well enough for my person in the past." Zechs shrugged, and went to the kitchen to get the orange juice anyhow.

He stood there, quite surprised. Waffles? Hakuba was making waffles?