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posted Dec 31 2017, 07:36 PM //
liquid amber swirled in miles' glass as a soft beat of bass thrummed through his body. it was early. only a few other customers sat quietly in the bar. the pit below would sit silent for a good few more hours.
miles hoped to be long gone by then. getting twitchy around a large crowd was not his cup of tea—or whiskey, in this case—though he always wondered.
his head turned to the tv hanging above the bar. it played a rerun of some sport he knew nothing about. his eyes darted away before he could really register what was even happening on the screen.
he downed his drink and waved to the bartender for another one.
posted Jan 6 2018, 12:26 AM //
bags under his eyes, a thick layer of stubble across his cheeks and chin - three days old, at the very least - shirt undone and his tie askew, macen drags himself into sister margaret's and slumps onto a stool at the bar. he orders bourbon, a double, and spends the three minutes it takes for the bartender to bring him his drink over ice staring blankly at the tv screen.
the glass lands in front of him and he takes a tentative sip, his hand shaking. he grimaces at the taste, but downs another swallow, and only puts the glass down when the person sitting three stools down from him signals the bartender for another round.
macen - delicately, for a man of his size - hops off his stool, holding his drink in both hands like a precious artifact, and relocates two stools to his left. he bumps his new neighbor lightly in the shoulder as he adjusts his position on his seat, and looks him over from the corner of his eye; nice hair, nice build, cut jaw. macen smiles. he shows his teeth.
"put it on my tab," he tells the bartender, and despite his lackluster appearance his voice is strong and steady. "cheers, mate."
miles van herten
posted Jan 6 2018, 01:05 PM //
with a blink, miles turned his head towards the nudge at his shoulder. he had heard the other patron enter and sit down, even stand back up a few minutes later. he wasn't expecting him to come sit next to him.
he inspected the man to his right curiously, taken a bit by surprise at his offer. he was disheveled, yes, but there was something about his face that kept miles from considering him sloppy. tired maybe? that was something he could relate to. or maybe that was just this guy's look—he pulled it off well enough.
he waited till the bartender returned with a fresh drink before speaking. "'preciate it." he lifted his glass as an offering to toast. after some consideration, he decided against mentioning the offer wasn't necessary. didn't want to seem rude.
taking a sip, miles held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, searching for all the flavors before swallowing it down. it burned the roof of his mouth. fumes made their way up through his nostrils and he sniffed quietly before turning slightly towards his neighbor.
"wasn't expecting to see anyone else here this early."
macen st. james
posted Jan 8 2018, 05:38 PM //
macen inclines his head in quiet acknowledgement. he focuses on his own drink, but his gaze shifts, subtly, to the man beside him. watches his movements: deliberate, purposeful, steady. by contrast macen is like the jagged edge of torn paper, quick but erratic, and the rattle of ice against glass betrays his unsteady hand.
but his smile is smooth and genuine as he angles his body towards his new companion. "seems it's not a popular time," macen agrees lightly, taking another sip of his drink. "but we've all our reasons for unwise bouts of drinking." he checks his watch, now, and his brow furrows as if the hour is a surprise to him. "day drinking, even. i was wondering why it was so bright out."
macen offers no explanation himself but his expression is expectant, his posture attentive, like he truly has no greater purpose in this moment but to hear why a stranger is in a bar so early in the day.
miles van herten
posted Jan 9 2018, 05:16 AM //
busy examining the bottles of alcohol lined along the shelf, miles didn't miss the sound of a shaking hand. his mind wandered towards the possibilities of what could be causing it. had this man been anything more than a stranger, he'd have half a mind to question it. ask if something was wrong. but that wasn't exactly his place. better to pretend he didn't notice.
miles chuckled quietly, his head turning towards the light-filled window, then once more at his own realization. "i hardly noticed it was still early." he shook his head to himself. "shit, feels like i should be in bed in an hour."
a quick glance toward his companion suggested he was curious as to why he was here, considering the current time. a fair enough question. "had to butcher an entire bull today," he offered. he took a sip of his drink, stealing a glance to his right to see the reaction. "big guy—almost a ton and a half. i woulda felt bad if he weren't already sick as a dog."
macen st. james