crymearivcrsâ:
flo yelps in surprise as sebastian jumps over the bar, her hands cupping over the shot glass protectively so it doesnât spill over the bar. she doesnât want to be truthful, so she rolls her eyes and ignores him, downing the shot wordlessly before she catches the lime. she sucks on the wedge as she looks over at him, shaking her head slightly. ânah just - in the mood for a couple of drinks - and today was slow, soâŠâ she trails off, shrugging. florence snorts in annoyance, throwing the lime wedge at his head as he speaks. she knows heâs right - that they should be heading home and be responsible - and that there actually was something up. sheâs not in the mood for that particular conversation, so she just drums her fingers against the bar, fidgeting with the shot glass as she steps around his questions. âyou act like iâm never on time - iâm always waiting for your ass to help me open,â she grumbles, flicking his arm gently, simultaneously leaning her head against his shoulder as she sighs softly. flo giggles at the idea, nudging his side gently as she looks over at him. âhonestly i feel like the booths would be kinda comfy yâknow? people fall asleep on them all the fucking time.â
sebastian doesnât believe her by a long shot -- but knowing her so well for so long, he knows he should probably just drop the issue. and drop it he does. seb pours them what he decides will be their last shot. catching the lime in his hand, he puts on a face of disgust before he tosses it across the room into the trash. in a quick motion, he leans back over the bar, half his long limbs on the other side as he blindly grabs a wine bottle and puts the patron back, huffing out before sitting back down on the stool. he pats her head softly. â oh so -- now every slow night, we can just get blackout drunk after work? that sounds like a plan, shorty. â he laughs, clinking the top of her glass before downing the shot and shuddering. â god of fucks why does tequila get worse after every shot? fuck. i think youâre going to need your own bottle of wine. â he slides his body across the bar again, chuckling the whole way as he blindly grabs another bottle and puts it in her hand before looping his arm into hers and lifting her up out of the stool. he shakes his head. âthere is not a fucking way in hell iâm sleeping in those std-infested booths. you do know what ELSE people do in the booths right? and we might wipe that down but... god.... those stains are forever. now, come on, letâs go to yours. i wanna drink wine on the bed, pleaseeeeeee?â he pretty much drags her towards the door, slipping her keys out of her pocket and made sure the lights were off before he locks the door behind them and steps out into the cool air. âwant to split the rest of my blunt?âÂ












