Sour Times // William & Noir AU
William strode down the sidewalk, collar of his trench coat popped in an attempt to keep the persistent rain from numbing his bones. It'd been getting progressively colder for weeks now, though it was still too early for fall, and the rain had been as constant as his shadow. It was worse on nights like this when the wind turned the drops into bullets, each one stinging as it made contact with skin.
His mood was already dark and looming, and the weather did nothing to improve upon it. Then again, William's world had been effectively shattered when Claire had died, let alone his mood. She was the last bit of family he'd had, and when the doctors couldn't save her from the bullet that had ripped through her chest, she'd bled out on the operating table. William's heart died with her.
The next few weeks were spent in a blurry, drunken haze. Police had gotten to the shooter before William himself could, and despite his burning desire for revenge, he'd let the justice system take over. By the time the trail date arrived, he didn't trust himself to drive, let alone effectively use his own guns. He'd spent copious amounts of time laying in bed after that, shrinking into his own guilt and shame and remorse and tears. When he ate, it was only because Janice, his housekeeper, forced him to. It was largely due to her efforts overall that he'd even begun to go outside again. And here he was again, headed toward his favorite vice.
Sniffing against the chill, he dug his hands further into his pockets and rounded the corner, bright neon lights of the building ahead beckoning him, moth-like, in. Decadence the letters proclaimed into the night, and he'd smiled at the name the first time. It was certainly appropriate for a strip club, as well as William's recent actions. He'd been frequenting it for some time now to try and fill the gap he felt now that his family, in its entirety, was dead. He'd become a shade of himself, indulging each and every whim in a hedonistic rampage of what would've been bliss, had he not still felt so empty.
The sound from inside hit him like a solid wall as he opened the door, a different sort of darkness enveloping him. Friendly faces smiled at him as he came in, some of them pressing close in an attempt to earn tips later. He knew they were only after the money, but he didn't care. Largely ignoring them, he meandered his way toward one of the stages and took off his drenched coat, giving it a shake before draping it over the back of his chair. Underneath, his charcoal dress pants and burgundy dress shirt were crisp; if he could keep up his normal, business-like front, he thought it might serve to hide the gaping hole in his core.
"What'll it be for you?" some perky employee asked, sidling up beside him wearing little more than a smile. Considering for a moment, William stared blankly at her face.
"Whisky, no rocks. Three, please," he said at last, knowing he wouldn't want to ask for another within the next hour, "And, could you tell me please, is Noir working tonight?" Though his tone was somewhat less than enthusiastic, he was genuinely interested in the girl.