Firewater || Arthur & Rayne
It’d been a while since he’d been in town so there was literally only one thing he could do on a regular night… Drink. The fun had been gone from it a while ago as Arthur was only using it to drown out the fact that he was back in town for reasons he couldn’t share. The bar of choice tonight had been the first one he’d wandered into, The Gaslight. It was just the right amount of shade and skeeze he was used to while also being a bit shiny on the outside.
Today he’d decided to blend with the locals and relax finally despite his situation. He didn’t intend to stay in this town forever, so he could have some fun tonight. Sidling up into an unoccupied stool, Art checked his phone in a trained manner. He’d have to answer the calls eventually, but for the moment he put his phone back in his pocket and downed the glass in front of him. The place was really starting to pick up despite it being a weekday and he wanted to drink until he could barely walk or fly back to the hovel he was renting now. He didn’t quite remember the time he’d walked in as it’d been a while and his glass was now empty again.
Making his way across the room and back to where the bar was for another, he accidentally knocked into someone, spilling his clear drink on the other partly. He was sure he wasn’t that far gone as far as he knew… so maybe it was a combination of the crowd and everything else? He put his hands out in front of himself, righting himself on them. “S-shit… sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” Okay, maybe he was a bit far from just buzzed.
It was not as common to find Rayne at the Gaslight as it was to find her at the Boathouse, but there were times when her business took her to the newly opened bar. Two of her friends ran it, after all, which was such a conundrum but one she had no desire to puzzle out. They’d eventually kill each other or they wouldn’t, which ever. Cold and heartless as always, Rayne chose not to give two shits about the personal issues that could be brought to life with this little business union.
She’d stepped away from her spot at the bar, making sure the witch that manned it knew not to touch her drink and headed off toward the music in the corner. She could only deal with so much dull country. She needed to hear something with a better fucking beat and she tired of listing to the bar tender ask for drink orders while she ran her numbers and waited to catch Axel about the Vaughn thing.
Her phone had chimed in a status update from one of her bookies and she’s stopped to read it only to find her entire left side suddenly soaked and smelling like a Russian in the dead of winter. Hard sapphire eyes turned on the man that had run into her, her jaw clenching in anger. “Well, then I guess all is forgiven, huh? You didn’t mean to.” Her voice was like a diamond cutting through a piece of glass, sharp and deadly. “Do you think my dry cleaner will accept ‘I didn’t mean to’ as payment for your mistake?”
@arthurxlandis