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"Jedediah, what are you drinking?" Octavius tentatively asked his friend, who was nursing a bottle in his hand. "I have to admit- in all our decades of fighting, you always appeared sober- so this is new to me."
Jed put the bottle down. "Nah, this ain't it. Remember when I told y'all that my namesake was raised as a Methodist?"
"...Somewhat? I apologize, you might have to remind me."
As Jed explained just what Methodists thought of drinking, the irony was not lost on either of them- explaining the history of the branches of Christianity to a Roman general? But given their... unique circumstances as sentient miniatures in a museum, that hardly stopped them and their respective dioramas from becoming allies and freely mingling with one another.
Hell, the two leaders were sitting at the bar in a saloon in the Western diorama- of course the miniatures insisted on building a saloon and a tavern- while tables around them were being filled with the lively chatter and drinking games Westerners and Romans alike. Both of these places now even had drinks from both dioramas- which in turn attracted even more visitors to both establishments.
"...And even though I'm sure their views on alcohol and drinkers have changed by now, I'm still not exactly keen to get started on the booze. Moonshine. Barb wire. Nose paint." Jed paused at the now bewildered expression on his friend's face. "You get the point."
He then turned the bottle in his hand to show the label- its scenic illustration and bold text in all. "This stuff is sarsaparilla! Made from good ol' birch oil and sassafras bark. It's kinda sorta s'posed to be medicine, and some of the folks still take it like one, but it's a damn good drink if I say so myself. It's a lot like that root beer soda we tried last week."
"Oh, yes! I recall the taste of it!" Octavius' face lit up at the memory. Larry had not been happy about them raiding the candy vending machine, but he hadn't said anything about the beverages one yet. "I see. That makes more sense."
The Roman then turned to the bartender. "Four glasses of wine, please."
Jedediah nearly shot sarsaparilla from his nose. Octavius quickly gestured to a few centurions that were walking up to the bar.
"Gratias tibi ago!" They all graciously thanked their general and brought their glasses to a table with some railroad workers, who were setting up a card game.
"Whew- you really had me thinkin' you wanted to be deep in the nose paint tonight!" Jed chuckled, Octavius soon joining him in laughter.
"Not everyone in the army can speak English yet." The Roman then explained. "But being in an environment like this would be greatly beneficial to them, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah! They're really getting along now... aw, shucks- maybe I shoulda practiced some of my own Latin on 'em! What was that- 'thank you'?"
"Yes, well done! At your rate, you shall be able to debate one of our senators back in Rome soon."
Jed turned a bit pinkish despite his lack of drinking. "Woah, easy on the reins there, Ock. I ain't quite a genius like you."
"Do not underestimate yourself, Jedediah. Remember what our liege said- we aren't as different as we seem." Octavius grinned, blushing a little as well. He then turned back to the bartender. "One glass of water, please."
"Aw, you don't have to avoid wine jus' 'cause of ol' Diah here."
"Oh, no. It's little to do with you." The general reddened. "I was honestly relieved to learn that you abstain. I myself hardly drink- but it is because I cannot handle more than a pint of wine before wanting to empty my stomach."
"Ohhhhh. A massive lightweight, eh? That'd explain why I never saw you drunk out there either."
"Indeed. One of the few things that my supposed namesake has bestowed upon me, it seems." Octavius sighed. He accepted his glass of water and took a hearty swig. "On the brighter side- as one would say- we are yet again in the same boat."
"Heh, true. Hey, cheers to that, partner!" They clinked their drinks together and finished them.
Soon, Jedediah orders another bottle of sarsaparilla. He offers Octavius a sip, and then they end up happily sharing the bottle.
The next night, Larry sighs when he notices the lack of root beer from the vending machine and heads toward the Hall of Miniatures.