[ STARTER ID: OPEN FOR ANYONE ] ??? / NYC: Barbarella Bar, present day.
The derivatives of ennui often lead him astray. The current exhibit displays his inhibited mind, clattered with thoughts that he does not want to entertain, mostly the searing ones, too heavy for a moment clasped between the teeth of fatigue. As such, he searches for a place baptised anew, the neutral territory a lapse between thoughts that tend to skew towards the crimes that mar the city underneath its glam. He knows it too well, but nowadays, he doubts that any place isn’t actually accentuated by some bias to an extent. Still, it’s none of his business. To plenty, he’s another face that remains a fool, oblivious to the ire of the brewing battles, so he’d rather capitalise on that than having to act otherwise.
He chooses the stool right in the middle of the bar, settling on it before ordering a glass of bourbon on the rocks. Nothing too unconventional. He looks around for a brief moment, but fixates his attention on his phone eventually, scrolling down the social media. Nothing interesting, but his thumb keeps going, and going, and going, until someone claims the seat next to him. He pretends to not acknowledge their presence, as if engrossed in his own phone, waiting for them to say something, anything, if they do really know of him, at least as this privileged fool sitting on top of the food chain.