Open to: @muttbriggs Location: Driftwood Discontent has settled on Gabe like the morning frost, except this persistent weight won't melt with the rising sun. Instead, it renders him a robot in his own life, and though he goes through the motions, it's impossible to find the thirst that once was unquenchable. So much has changed and being so aligned with the chaotic, Gabe should be thriving; it's completely within his character. But knowing the driving factor and who was behind Dominic's death leaves him with a bitter hole in the pit of his stomach that looks too much like worry and regret for his liking. Thankfully, the club keeps him busy, but only for so long, as he's finding now. The place is empty, the lights are off save for over the bar, and having finished all his closing tasks, Gabe finds himself dragging his feet at the prospect of going home. A heavy sigh has him grabbing a bottle off the shelf and he sits himself down to another night of drinking alone. "No, no," he utters aloud, the idea of spending a whole evening with only himself entirely too much.
Phone in hand, he does a hasty once-over of his contacts, thumb coming to hover over the name of a potential comrade in this bizarre state of isolation. He considers, on the cusp of talking himself out of it when he shakes his head and begins a message before he can change his mind altogether. Text to: Mutt Briggs There's an after-party going on at Driftwood. I hear the owner's giving away free drinks. Text to: Mutt Briggs If this sounds desperate, it's because it is.