Despite the sub-freezing weather, there are still a few people out and about in Chicago.
There's a whore walking the streets of Chicago, but not for the reasons you'd think. A blue-haired demon who goes by Indigo Jones has spent the day shopping, and is in a pretty good mood. She's locked her bags in the trunk of her car, and now she's searching
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He stood her up.
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He's not going to approach her directly, but a few minutes later, the bartender slides her a much nicer (and more expensive) beer her way with a murmured, "From the gentleman," and a discreet nod in Eric's direction.
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"I hope I'm not intruding," he says, voice soft, "but it seemed like you'd had a disappointing night. A few good drinks do seem to help sometimes, though."
There's a subtle emotional current under his words: I just want to help. Trust me. You're all alone in the world -- wouldn't it be better if you had a bit of company?
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She motions to the seat opposite and rests her chin on one hand, tilting her head to one side and examining him from under carefully made-up eyelashes. He's not bad looking. Good for a flirt at least, and she could use the cheering up.
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