don't ask me why i smoke (OR WHY THIS LOG IS SHIT)
WHO: Atsuko Jackson (frobocop) and OPEN
WHERE: SOME BAR... THAT EXISTS.
WHEN: SOMETIME DURING THE WEEKEND OR WEEKDAY IDK, lateish at night?
WARNINGS: introspective bullshit and sia lyrics in the lj-cut, way to go me
SUMMARY: Atsuko drinks while off-duty! And thinks about her feelings vaguely! Alone! Forever! Unless someone else tags in, in which case she drinks with other people! After I sleep! Because it is almost one in the morning!
FORMAT: WORDS
She isn't drunk yet; she usually isn't. She doesn't want to be drunk, anyway--just loosened-up enough to bother thinking about things. Which alcohol is good for, to an extent, but even that falls short eventually. Some guy's talking really loudly about a woman on the other side of the bar, won't shut up, and if she had her hand on her whip right now she knows it would be vibrating, practically jittery with anticipation; she's not going to do anything, though. Obviously. Not tonight. And come on, she's a fucking cop--what is she going to do? What's she going to let herself do?
Nine months now, she thinks, closing her eyes and feeling the burn in the back of her throat as she swallows. Almost ten.
WHERE: SOME BAR... THAT EXISTS.
WHEN: SOMETIME DURING THE WEEKEND OR WEEKDAY IDK, lateish at night?
WARNINGS: introspective bullshit and sia lyrics in the lj-cut, way to go me
SUMMARY: Atsuko drinks while off-duty! And thinks about her feelings vaguely! Alone! Forever! Unless someone else tags in, in which case she drinks with other people! After I sleep! Because it is almost one in the morning!
FORMAT: WORDS
She isn't drunk yet; she usually isn't. She doesn't want to be drunk, anyway--just loosened-up enough to bother thinking about things. Which alcohol is good for, to an extent, but even that falls short eventually. Some guy's talking really loudly about a woman on the other side of the bar, won't shut up, and if she had her hand on her whip right now she knows it would be vibrating, practically jittery with anticipation; she's not going to do anything, though. Obviously. Not tonight. And come on, she's a fucking cop--what is she going to do? What's she going to let herself do?
Nine months now, she thinks, closing her eyes and feeling the burn in the back of her throat as she swallows. Almost ten.