(Untitled)

[sixgoodreasons]

WHO: Logan (sixgoodreasons) and open
WHERE: The Tool Shed, a dive bar on the East Side known for its lenient attitude towards imPorted.
WHEN: 6th & 7th of July, late evening to early morning.
WARNINGS: Violence, language, drinking, country music.
SUMMARY: Just another Tuesday night.
FORMAT: Whatever feels natural.

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[sixgoodreasons]

He'd been avoiding her. Ever since their first meeting, he'd been avoiding her. He wasn't proud of it, not even a little, but he couldn't help himself. It was a special kind of torture, seeing her walking around, smelling her scent, hearing her laugh. The colour of her hair in the sunlight. And all the time, knowing that if they ever got to go home, if he ever got to go home, she wouldn't be there. When he looked at her he felt like he was looking at a ghost, and she deserved better than to see that in his eyes.

But of course Jean had found him. Or maybe he'd found her. Wasn't that how it worked? Always waiting for each other.

Of all the bars in all the world, darlin', you gotta walk into mine.

By now he was onto the harder stuff, and it burned down the back of his throat even as he heard her heels click on the floor behind him. The sound of her voice was like a physical blow. His hand tightened on the bottle of whiskey, just a little. She sounded nervous. He couldn't blame her.

"You know better'n to ask that, Red," he replied, resisting the urge to glance up at her. Instead, he poured himself another shot.

[wasalways]

The spotlight of her gaze hovered over his shoulders, until finally it was directed at the nape of his neck. There had been something about the skin there that caused her to zone out for a second, almost drift away, before she realized she had been reaching out for thoughts or answers. There was a quick glance over at the chair next to him once more, before she decided to pursue this encounter anyway, no matter how awkward it might turn out. Smiling, Jean seated herself, turning her body to face her old friend. A leg crossed over another, and she nudged his ankle with her foot.

"Logan, you seem restless tonight." She eyed his glass, then stared at his hand as she spoke. "I was restless, too. Am. Am restless, I guess."