I won't go quietly

This drabble was written for the End of the Work Week comment_fic prompt: Any, any+/any, "It's Miller Time."

"Not this swill. This barely passes as ale. Barely," Valkyrie complained, but still accepted the bottle of Miller Lite that Bruce was offering her.

"What can I say?" Bruce chuckled, "It's Miller Time."

Thor finished chugging the first bottle of his six-pack (Bruce knew he'd probably end up drinking three more six-packs at the very least, but wanted to start him off slow), and let the bottle clatter on the ground next to his seat.

"Miller? Who is this Miller you speak of?"

Bruce choked on his first gulp of beer. After sputtering for a few moments, he finally answered. "Miller isn't anybody, it's the name of the -"

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, said nothing, and continued to drink.

"You said it was Miller's time. Is he going to perform for us? Must we pay tribute to him?"

"No, no, Thor, it's just an expression, it's from an old Midgard commercial -"

Thor polished off another beer and added it to his growing pile of bottles, now up to four. "Oh, like that one about the tiny cheese-flavored crackers that resemble fish? What was it - the snack that smiles back? Goldfish! Ha! Is that an ancient Midgard expression as well?"

Bruce closed his eyes. "No, Thor."

"And why does this bottle say Miller Lite? Is there a heavier beer? Why aren't we drinking that one?"

"If I give you another six-pack, will you drop it?"

Thor finished his sixth beer and grinned. "For now."

Valkyrie smiled slyly and held up her half-empty bottle. "To Miller and his precious time."

"TO MILLER!" Thor bellowed.

Bruce sighed in resignation, clinked his bottle again Thor's and Valkyrie's. "To Miller, I guess."