Close rp with Rose Wilson
The bar in Gotham was loud.
Zahira sat with her head tilted back on one of the plush sofas, her non-injured arm resting lazily along the backrest. A half empty bottle of rum stood in front of her though calling it “half empty” was generous optimism. She was already deep enough in it that the edges of the room had started to blur into something softer, less sharp, easier to ignore.Her coat hung off her shoulders, forgotten. Smudged eyeliner, loose strands of black hair falling into her face.
Her friends had ditched her. One of them left with a woman he would probably be talking about it in the group chat for the next week. Another had been collected by his girlfriend after Zahira herself made the call. As for the girls...God knows where they had disappeared to, though knowing them, it involved “getting numbers” or “Instagram handles,” like they were still back in college.
At least all five of them still kept in touch, even if life had scattered them into completely different professions.
Zahira shook her head slightly, exhaling through her nose, and poured the last of the rum into her glass. She didn’t even look at it before finishing it in one go.
Then she lifted a hand and waved a waiter over.
“A bottle of vodka.”
@dc-rose-wilson
