@thercnncr:
Atticus did not do “fancy”. He was more the “drink a beer and have a slice of pizza in two day old sweatpants” type of person, but he was halfway through the semester and he figured why not. He zipped around a few bars, peering in the windows to see what was crowded and what wasn't, before settling at a dive and, after taking out his ID with a bit of an eyeroll at the comment of how young he was, and the extra scrutiny. He was ready to settle on his normal Malibu Sunset - fruity gets the job done, he believes - when he felt a stool push out into the side of his thigh. Atticus looked down at it, then to the shoe, then to the owner of it all with a slight quirk of an eyebrow. “Do I have to pay for it?” he asked, pulling the stool out farther and taking a seat on it. “I’m a college student, frugal is my favorite word in the dictionary.”
“No, you don’t.” If Lupe hadn’t been in such a good mood, she might have called the stranger a fetus - especially once he admitted to being a college student. Fuck knew he looked young enough. But she’d been there once, drinking Natty Light in some dingy apartment with her classmates, everyone chipping in their pocket change in hopes of being able to afford another case. Thankfully success had been her friend even after her original restaurant had been destroyed in the War, and well, she was in a good mood. “Well my word of the day is celebration. You can keep being frugal, I’ll pay.” And at that she poured a second glass of champagne and pushed it across the bar towards the kid.