elias-richmondâ:
Elias had always been restless at night, never one to settle down and sleep for too many hours. Besides that fact that he was used to keeping such late nights, he always just⊠had to move. Stillness meant thinking, and thinking meant lingering on long-ago pasts and distant, now non-existent futures. There was no use thinking about what could have been, only what is. His mother wouldâve shuddered at the thought. A chuckle sprung past his lips at the idea, just as a waft of nicotine overtook the manâs senses. For a moment, he had to glance down to check his own hand, to make sure he hadnât forgotten to extinguish a cigarette of his own. But no, there was someone else here. Eyeing the other curiously, the man found his brow lifting involuntarily. He saw the bottle first. Jameson? Then, he heard the other speak. A woman. Ah, accented speech. Explains the whiskey, he supposed.
âUh, nope, but I guess I could say the same to you. Canât sleep?â
Maybe she should know better than to lure a stranger into conversation when sheâs alone and itâs dark for the most part - still, Karaâs pretty confident in her ability to defend herself if it came down to it, Killian had taught her so. Head tilts to the side in a curious angle, left eyebrow raising as she offers the stranger a crooked smirk. âSomething like that. When I do, my dreams are never very welcoming.â It seems easier, she thinks, to discuss her troubles with someone who doesnât even know her name than with someone who just might care. âWhatâs your excuse?â Kara asks, glancing over at her bottle of Jameson before she holds it out in his direction, silently offering him some.











