Alfred hated vegetables, to say the least. Though if he were to be technical about it, tomatoes were fruits but he really didn’t believe in such nonsense.

But tomatoes, vegetables, were the worst and that included when they were made into juices. It’s why he hated the bloody Mary he had just made for himself. Hell, he didn’t even know why he made it. [That was a lie, he made it because he was hung over from last night and supposedly Bloody Marys could cure this. At least, that’s what Wikipedia claimed] He didn’t even know why he had tomato juice, let alone the Vodka the drink required. [He assumed it was a gift from Ivan that was the only explanation for it because he did NOT drink Vodka]

Wrinkling his nose in slight disgust, he brought the drink up to his lips and took a sip, one which he almost spit back out.

“Oh…GOD, that tastes HORRID.” He whined, scrunching up his nose as he set the glass back onto the counter.

He wasn’t sure what the worst part about the drink was; the fact that it reminded him of Arthur or the fact that it tasted like Ivan.