txrncoat:
Even if he hasn’t had a particularly bad week, he always finds himself at the bar. There’s something comforting about it. He cant be judged if everyone else there is as drunk and messy as he is. He sips from his drink the moment he sits down, eyes blinking as he looks over to the stranger. Something about him is almost familiar, but he brushes that feeling of quickly. He’s never actually seen this man in his life, his mind is just hoping for reasons to get close to anyone he can.
“Oh, uh, no. I’m just here alone. You don’t have to move or anything,” he speaks with a soft, almost forced smile, “You’re not waiting for anyone, are you?”
narrowed eyes watch the man carefully, SKEPTIC of how familiar he looks. his days with the mob flood his head momentarily, trying to decipher whether or not this man could be considered a threat; he seems strong, like he has the potential to hurt him, but he can’t be sure whether or not those are what his intentions are. either way, he finishes his drink ( perhaps too quickly ) and shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. he doesn’t have anybody to wait for. just a plethora of clients waiting for him to commit the crime they don’t have the guts for.
❝ nah. no one except another drink. hey, do i know you? ❞
