La Fin du Monde

“La Fin du Monde?” he asks, examining the label on the bottle of beer he’s just opened. Upon reading the alcohol content he teases “Nine percent? Are you trying to get me naked?” “We split a 750 milliliter bottle of La Fin du Monde on a date, and I did get you naked,” I reply confidently. “Oh,” he says, looking back at the bottle, “It works then. Good,” and takes a long swig.