At the mention of this exotic and wonderful place called Damascus, Zack's eyes soften. He imagines what he is able, given his home dimension. But yes, he's been on countless dying worlds, and has caught that last fleeting glimpse of beauty before he'd been compelled to make the magma rise up and claim it, or before he inflicted a new ice age, or unleashed a desert storm to end all storms, across an unsuspecting continent.
He's not sure what zenith means, but it must be a high point. To be drowned in silver must be a wonderful way to die.
Usually, at this point, he's managed to offend someone; so the stranger's amusement is met well enough. Zack can't help a half-grin at the idea that the alien drink makes people want sex and then prevents biological function.
“No, we don't have anything like this or any good water. What there is, is toxic. Full of grit and bugs. The rats get fat though. Oddly. Good eating.”
Bravely, he takes another mouthful wondering how quickly he can get used to it. “In case the time comes when this is all there is to drink,” he tells the stranger.
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He's not sure what zenith means, but it must be a high point. To be drowned in silver must be a wonderful way to die.
Usually, at this point, he's managed to offend someone; so the stranger's amusement is met well enough. Zack can't help a half-grin at the idea that the alien drink makes people want sex and then prevents biological function.
“No, we don't have anything like this or any good water. What there is, is toxic. Full of grit and bugs. The rats get fat though. Oddly. Good eating.”
Bravely, he takes another mouthful wondering how quickly he can get used to it. “In case the time comes when this is all there is to drink,” he tells the stranger.