different kind of savior.
@advmengjia
Maybe it’s his fault. His responsibility. He should not be annoyed (but good lord, he is).
‘Alright, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We’re closing.’ It’s the third time in less than ten minutes for him to have repeated those words. Everything had been cleaned up, most customers already disappeared half an hour ago, and yet this particular lady still did not budge. It’s frustrating, honestly—even more so because he should have seen it coming. He had seen it coming, and yet had not taken any measures. Tried to, but failed. See, the problem was that controlling her drinks just wasn’t enough. He could deny her a drink, and some other visitor would have provided her with one instead. Minho would warn them, and another customer would do the exact same thing. All she had to do was to bat her lashes; and he couldn’t quite blame these men, either. Other than kicking her out, there was no end to it (and perhaps, he thinks, he should have kicked her out—but it was a little bit too late for that).
Unfortunately, there still isn’t much of a response. Some slurred mumbling results in a quirk of his brow. ‘Hey-‘ His voice raises when he nudges her arm. Once, twice: still no proper answer. Great.
On the plus side: she wasn’t dead. Dead people did not mumble (usually). On the negative side? She was hardly alive, too. When he finally sinks through his knees, he cannot help but to heave a deep sigh. Eye contact—he should at least be able to get that far. ‘You have a name?’ It’s a seemingly idiotic question, but he figures that if he wants to get any kind of answers out of her, he should probably start from scratch. And yet, he is far too impatient not to make any further inquiries.
‘Do you remember where you live?’