sam looks up, a bit surprised to hear someone at the bar at this hour on a weekday. she’s crouched beneath the bar, cleaning under the well, yellow kitchen gloves on and spray bottle in hand. ❝ hey! sorry, i was just–– ❞ she shakes her head. ❝ yeah, ❞ a smile, ❝ we totally have coke. lemme just… put this shit away. ❞ the cleaning supplies clatter lightly as she tosses them into a cabinet and tugs off her gloves. ❝ you just want coke? or do you want it as your mixer? ❞
❝ just coke would be swell. ❞ alcohol has never been, and most likely never will be, something he’s been very interested in. he doesn’t like the idea of being drunk, but he’s been raised in bars. there’s a sense of familiarity to them that he likes so he doesn’t mind hanging out in them. eyes glance around taking notice of the emptiness around, ❝ pretty dead today? ❞