It was one of those nights where he and her were having their usual drinks in their usual haunt. The usual conversational topics, the usual laughter, it was one of those familiar nights that they both shared since last year.
She asked him if he will ever drink with his bosses. He paused for a while and replied that drinking to him is a very personal thing. He only drinks with people on the same frequency as him, and that he is comfortable with. People who he can relate to, and whom he can open his soul to. And there is not a lot of people on this planet that fits the requirements. It is like those Chinese wuxia novels where people drip blood to be brothers and then celebrates it by drinking alcohol from bowls.
And when he is finally alone, he wonders the exact point in his life when drinking became a very personal thing to him.
