It had been one of the shittiest days Tony had had in a really long time. There was nothing but trouble inside his city, from wannabe gangs to business men who made Tony’s current life even more difficult than it already had been. He was in the middle of establishing a new so-to-say pillar that was supposed to protect him and his usual doings but people kept getting in the way, up to a point where he feels nothing but frustration, his usual stubborn head wanting to finally give this up and perhaps try another time, another way, anything to get it out of his goddamn head already. It has already past midnight as he lazily strolls through still lively streets, neon signs blinking, people drinking, smoking enjoying the night and Tony can’t deny but he really needed a drink right now. He needs something to vent, something to calm his mind and like so often alcohol had become a necessity instead of an occasional want for him-- it’s not like he cares too much, rather enjoying the clouded state of mind at least giving some RELIEF to his soul.
It doesn’t take him long until he is about to pass a very well visited bar, owner being a good friend of his he occasionally sees and trusts, he barely sets foot to unknown locations or venues, although one could say that most of them were in some way affiliated with Tony anyways, he enjoys the intimacy and privacy and especially the security of having soil under his feet that is HIS as well. Too big the risk, too high the chance of making a dumb mistake and paying with his own life for it-- in worst case. The security guard gives Tony a short nod, before opening the door for him, which Tony responds to in the same manner before he enters the loud, bass heavy bar that already seemed to bristle with people-- he hates the crowds, he hates being touched by strangers, be it on accident or NOT. It makes him furious but he oppresses it for the sake of not wanting to strain his nerves even further-- him being already on EDGE. As he sits down at the only empty spot at the busy bar, he orders his usual drink-- an astronomically expensive single malt whiskey that had become his best friend over the following years, rarely willing to touch anything else except for it. Both of his elbows are resting on the bar table as he looks around, some faces familiar-- most of them not.
He has not been paying a lot of attention to what is happening left and right from him until an overly tall and broad shouldered guy accidentally brushes against him in a rough and careless way, turning his back to the shorter male. Tony closes his eyes in frustration, gulping his annoyance down, he notices the other’s loud voice almost shouting over the music, not understanding what the conversation is about-- let alone see who he is talking to. As the bartender puts his iced whiskey glass on the table, his concentration shifts again, raising glass to wet his lips before taking a strong gulp-- burning after taste shaking him to his senses.
