Axel huffed and rolled his eyes. "What are you? A kid?" he snorted, but he knocked back the drink without a thought. The sweetness and the faint burn of alcohol behind it felt good after his own semi-sour drink and maybe it was because of it that he considered Silvestre's proposition. One eyebrow raised, he was silent for a second, the now empty glass sitting on the edge of the bar in a mocking manner.

"Fine," he finally agreed. What did he really have to lose. The emotion that had stolen over him filled him with competition, the sort that he needed in order to feel better than Silvestre. Being friends? That was a thing of the past and he didn't even know if he wanted to fix that. No. He quickly shook the thought away. He did not want to waste precious time and effort on relations that would drag him down in the end. Still, he saw no danger in this little game and he wanted to throw away the reservations for a minute at least. "We'll play this game of yours, but the one that will end up drunk is you." Grinning, he called to the bartender to order another pair of shots, something with vodka this time. "My alcohol tolerance is one of the seven wonders of the rockstar world!"

As he settled back against his stool's seat, Axel let himself breath in the thick air of the club. His grin dissolved as his eyes looked far away, though just for a second. "Like old times." The words came out mocking like he meant, but also laced with nostalgia. But he knew he could never return to the person who felt comfortable with another musician. Too much in his life changed since then. He changed.