(no subject)

[hungover]

Date & Time: Saturday night!
Location: The Cascade Lounge
Characters: Haymitch and [open]
Summary: What are we doing tonight, Brain? The same thing we do every night.
Warnings: ...trying to take over the world? No, nothing actually. Haymitch being himself is warning enough.

[No matter where he was, there was one thing he could rely on (other than himself) -- alcohol. Sure, he spent most of his nights drinking at home alone ... but he'd started to think that he needed more information about this place, and the easiest way to get that would just be to sit around and wait for people to come to him.

A lonely drunk at the bar is the perfect potential conversation partner, right?

Right. At least he's been quiet and hasn't started any fights with anyone ... yet..]

Comments

[bitch_is_back]

[Bars are definitely a place to go for information. It's also a way of trying to do something about the boredom Meg is suffering from. She can only paint so many Enochian warding symbols on her walls before she goes stir crazy and has to get out.

Meg walks toward the bar, her heels clicking across the floor until she gets there and claims the barstool next to the lonely looking drunk.]

[andhishat]

[Taverns. They really are the closest thing to home she has left. Over constantly living in them for three years, she's started to associate some shared trends with warmth and safety after a long days travels.

Really, the smell of vomit and stale ale has started to become comforting. There is something terribly sick and wrong with that. Luckily this place lacks some of the less charming features of the bars back home, likely due to the miracle of indoor plumbing, but all the same, she's finding herself gravitating towards it in her off hours.

Which is why she's setting herself up at the bar next to the quietest guy who looks like he won't try to pinch her ass such as it is and dropping a gigantic leather bound tome with all sorts of bits of paper shoved in it onto the bar. Probably started a few hangovers early.]

Barkeep? Usual.

[The man behind the bar has clearly gotten used to the archaic terms she refers to him by. At least she pays.]

Alright, so where was I...?

[itase]

[While some people (normal people) instead used bars to socialize. Or at least escape a house of teenagers from time to time.

Darcy plops herself down in the stool next to Haymitch, ignoring him for a moment in order to give the bar keep a cheery smile.]

I'll have what he's having. On his tab.

[bearswitness]

[ Eshkol, as one might imagine of a man that has no mouth, doesn't drink. He really has no business being in a bar. But, being the spiteful little ball of hatred that he is, now and then he likes to put in an appearance just to make himself hate all the people that are rubbing in their mouth-ownership by drinking around him. Also it's sometimes mildly amusing to sit himself down somewhere and just stare at people, to watch them become slowly more and more unnerved.

So that's Haymitch's treat tonight! The man about 10 seats down on the bar hasn't looked away once with those creepy orange eyes of his.

But hey, at least his scarf is pulled up to his nose. That cuts down on some of the creepy, a little bit. ]