Natasha did not have work today, does not have work tomorrow until the evening, so she is going for quantity. A very great quantity of mid-shelf vodka. She doesn't take much notice of Iona until the bartender passes her with the woman's drink, and the glass is... is it smoking faintly? That's got to be some trick of the light. Natasha reaches out her hand, catches the guy's arm. "Hang on a sec."

The pause and turn is enough for her to confirm that it's not actually producing smoke. Right. Good. It's also enough for her to catch a whiff of the contents, and fucking hell. It smells like it could dissolve a battery. "What is--" No, that's not a question she actually needs answered. "I want one of those." That's where the conversation will wind, no matter what the answer to any other question she could ask might be, so why not?

It takes less time for Natasha to get her drink than it did for Iona to get hers. She throws it back, even though it's probably not meant to be a large shot, but rather a small sipping glass, and she's surprised the force of the punch to her lungs doesn't knock her off her stool. It's only now that she really looks at the woman who first ordered it. She's even slimmer than Natasha is. That's surprising.

It's also enough to get Natasha to slide off of her stool and walk over, half finished vodka bottle hanging loosely from her hand. "Do you always drink like this?"