â» â â â open
   It was quite intriguing how alcohol could be on the rocks and still somehow run hot down Piperâs throat, warming her insides in the best and worst way. Fireball was far from her poison of choice, but when the chalk on the board at the bar claimed it was a mere three dollars for two ounces, how could a girl resist? She couldnât, proven true by the now fourth empty glass in front of the blonde. Pushing them to the end of the bar in an attempt to get the bartenderâs attention, she hoped theyâd disappear from her sight (and preferably her memory) so she didnât look like such an alcoholic.
   Huffing out a breath of cinnamon, Piper swiveled her hips in her bar stool, moving back and forth as the liquor settled in her empty stomach. The liquid courage got the best of her (not to mention the dude literally drowning a cat while singing âKung Fu Fightingâ on stage), but she wanted to be the next to karaoke. In fact, she didnât even want to wait on Kung Fu Asshole to finish his terrible rendition, his voice similar to that of plastic-ware scraping Styrofoam. Jumping from her bar stool, Piper trudged up to the stage, heels clicking through the crowd only to snatch the microphone from the strangerâs hands. âAnd thatâll be all. Give it up for⊠this guy!â Piper cheered loudly, the speakers playing her voice in the entire bar. She half-applauded, microphone in hand, an encouragement for everyone else to join in, and succeeded, even if the applause was most likely for Piper in favor of getting him off stage. âNow, whoâs dueting with me?â Piper looked into the bar crowd like a puppy, doe-eyed, drunk, and ready to sing.
   Why am I here? Seriously what the hell am I doing here? Well, he had an answer to that hours ago â grabbing a beer with his friend, but of course she cancelled on him because Netflix was apparently âcalling her nameâ. Damn you, Johnson. The weird part is⊠he hasnât left yet. Instead, he continues to order drinks, tossing back shots of fireball without even caring that itâs probably burning a hole in some sort of vital organ (fingers crossed that it does!). He was beginning to realize that watching these drunken strangers embarrass themselves on stage felt like looking onto a car accident. Itâs terrible, and the last thing you ever want to do is look⊠but youâre compelled to, anyways. He couldnât look away, but instead circled his finger in the air to let the bartender know heâd like another.
   This scene wasnât really him. Bars in general were never something he spent too much time in. The place smelled like stale beer and peanuts and he never got drunk enough to enjoy the company around him. He was always that asshole every bartender hates and tries to escape as he drones on about the most pointless things to them. Shit, they probably thought he was lonely as hell. Well, he is, but they didnât need to know that. Finally getting some sense, he grabs at his jacket and goes to stand but a familiar voice brings his eyes to the stage. Oh lord. Things just got interesting. He sees Piper â most likely tipsy (or⊠sober, he can never tell with her), and he begins to smile mischievously. Before anyone could bravely volunteer to go up with her, he couldnât help but to suddenly yell out in a deep tone to grab her attention, âGet off the stage!â
