(🥃) My muse finds your muse in a bar, late at night.
Moonlight Aesthetic Starters // accepting.
It wasn’t often that Starman, of all people, entered a bar, but drastic times called for drastic measures, and Jeff was doing so much more terrible than he thought he would after the loss he had to suffer. “So this is where you holed yourself up in.”
And God, it wasn’t healthy, what Jeff was doing; he was a far cry from the man that worked with the JSA, the man that was one of the few detectives the superhero team actually trusted to do the right thing. Hawkman had told him that it was a lost cause, and that it wasn’t a superhero’s job to interfere in someone’s personal life, but...
You could get the boy out of the small town, but you couldn’t get the small town out of the boy. Starman couldn’t not worry about the people he’d fought with, the people who’d risked things for his sake.
“Guess it fits your M.O., though,” he said, taking a seat on the stool by Jeff’s side. The Cosmic Staff had been wrapped up, slung on his back, but that didn’t make him look any less ridiculous in his star-spangled tights, even if he did wear a jacket on top of it. “Dark bar, all on your own, drink in hand...”
Catching the bartender’s gaze, Starman nodded his head in acknowledgement of the man’s disbelief, and only because the look on his face screamed: a member of the Justice Society of America, here, in my hole in the wall shit bar!? And it was, indeed, a valid response.
“Almost makes me wish I still drank.” Then he lifted his hand for an order, and smiled when the bartender assured him that yes, Starman, we do have Coke! Hold on right there.
“...how’s your investigation been going, huh, Anderson?”