@andersondawes
He was drunk. Very, very drunk. Probably too drunk to still be outside his hole. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be in the morning. Not anymore at least.
It took him an embarrassingly long moment to focus on the man sliding into the seat beside him. When he realised it, he rolled his eyes and slurred: “Come to beat me up again? Sorry, get in line. LIfe’s already on it.”
“That would be entirely up to you, Beratna.” Dawes replied as his eyes did a quick once over. The man was clearly drunk, but he had no intentions of kicking him around, not this time at least. “Why didn’t you trust me about Julie? We were on the same side, but you wouldn’t listen.”
He frowned, perhaps it was a bit too much to discuss at the moment as it was clear to him that the other man wasn’t thinking straight in his drunken state, but part of his was curious. Anderson wanted to understand the way that the man thought, but he couldn’t do that if he kept forcing his hand. “What happened? You get fired or something?”
Miller waved his hand dismissively without realising that he was still holding onto his glass. The golden brown fungal pseudo whiskey spilled over his fingers and down onto the dirty bar top. Miller frowned at the splashes as if having trouble understanding where they had come from.
He shrugged and emptied his glass.
“You sound like you didn’t have anything to do with it.”, he sneered, half because of the sting of the alcohol and half because of his disdain for the man sitting beside him.






















