@hclloabby
Slamming the shot glass back down onto the counter, Grant let the burn in his throat recede only slightly before glancing up to get the bartender's attention again. "I need another shot." He managed to mumble hoarsely, pointedly ignoring the bartender's disapproving look. He didn't have the energy to deal with an argument though, only coming into the bar to drink until he could hopefully black out and forget this entire day.
The funeral had been bad. Worse than he'd thought. It was bad enough that he hadn't been able to keep his best friend alive and safe and whole, but having to actually bury him, and see him disappear into the ground, was just icing on the fucking shitfest that was his life right now, he thinks. He'd managed to get through it without crying thankfully, although that had mostly because he'd been numbly going through the motions for the whole thing, but his emotions had come bubbling up to the surface a few hours later, once he'd had time to process.
Getting up and tossing money onto the counter after the bartender had refused to serve him anymore alcohol, he stumbled back from the bar and nearly into the woman that had been standing off to the side. Steadying her with a hand, he blinked suddenly when he felt a small shock travel up his hand from where he touched her, a feeling of familiarity settling over him as he stared at her. "I... Sorry." He muttered quickly, withdrawing his hand as if burned. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, trying to remember where he'd seen her before and why he had the absolutely certain feeling that he knew her. "I... I know you, don't I?"