location ﹕ neon cactus saloon status ﹕ open to anyone. capped. [ 5/5 ]
* he can easily recall fragments of his recent memories in the bar, the once bustling vessel reduced to less than a fraction of what it previously was ﹕there is no more chatter and live music to be heard, only the constant droning of an electrical buzz insisting to be heard in the foreground. he is alone. no longer graced with the warm presence of a smiling face behind the bar, a chatty regular who relentlessly babbles about a story from their youth, none of the familiarity he's become accustomed to in the past year to be found. only ounces of alcohol left abandoned without a second thought. as beautiful as it may be, the warm rustic design he's grown to love offers nothing to the atmosphere when he's faced with the existential dread of loneliness. bars are supposed to be SOCIAL places! and that's made evident by the half-finished glasses of cocktails left scattered across the bar top, the ghostly reminder of the previous guests, guests who have strangely disappeared ━ leaving tristyn to soak in their absence. but it's not so bad. there's something that makes up for the freakishness of it all. free booze. he realizes that as he tentatively snakes his hand around the neck of a nearly full jack daniel's bottle, left discarded and barren on the shelf behind the bar. he instinctively wets his bottom lip as if he holds the world's most prized possession beneath his fingertips. not like stealing from his favorite bar is the GREATEST idea, but who's really around to stop him? no one, is what he'd believe, if not for the faint rustle to be heard from the other side of the bar. he was so close. if he had any ounce of shame if things were normal, this all would be embarrassing … at the first sight of apocalypse, he's off to steal liquor. typical? his head whips around, attention turning from the shelf onto whoever seemed to have caught him in the act. ❛ whatever you THINK is happening … probably is. ❜
