saintfred:
location: hoopers, day 2 — founders’ day celebrations. status: open! tw: alcohol, smoking. @charmingstarter
she calls this one the liquid hour — not for the amount of drinks poured (far too many and yet somehow never enough). the end of her shift, a fading, almost invisible hint of gold at the horizon: that’s a day melting into the other, the night turning shapeless and mellow, a liquor to get drunk on. she sits on the sidewalk, next to crates of empty boxes someone else will take care of, come morning. somewhere, a few streets over, she can hear the noise and voices of the late party-goers, and what’s left of the booming echoes of the main street party. it brings a smile to her face — if she wasn’t so achingly tired (and if she was ten years younger) she’d find an unexpected comfort in the mayhem, the closeness of bodies, the sweat and the booze. right now, her greatest comfort is the last cigarette in her pack, the last bottle of beer for the night, and a breeze caressing the skin on the back of her neck, still sweaty from the mighty workload she’s faced. and this is all she needs, really —— too tired and yet too wound up to go to sleep, she finds comfort in this limbo. but her lighter doesn’t share the same opinion, and the spark won’t come: she tries aimlessly to light it up, until she’s forced to give up with an exhausted sigh. shadows of customers still hanging around move from the corner of her eye. “hey ——”, she calls with a smile. “—— any chance you got a light? mine’s dead and i might just cry if i don’t get my cigarette break, tonight”.
Lane was leaving Hoopers, finishing the last bit of her drink at the bottom of it’s cup. She would normally be home by this hour, probably already asleep or maybe enjoying a few glasses of wine with some friends. She didn’t often get the chance to spend the night bar hopping, and especially not making a whole weekend out of it. The fresh night air felt good on Lane’s skin, and she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to breath air that didn’t seem hot and stuffy from filling the spaces in a crowd. “A lighter?” Lane clarified, stopping at the other woman’s request. “Uh, let me see...” She rifled through her bag for a moment before sheepishly offering up a long-neck grill lighter. “I know this isn’t what you meant at all, but it’d get the job done, right?”
