Basking in the Sun
One of the nice things about the Outsider's private island is that each and every room had a spectacular balcony view. Hank was sitting on his, clad in an outrageously floral shirt, khaki pants, no shoes, dark sunglasses, and a straw hat to top it all off. One empty bottle of red wine rolled around, empty, at his feet and another one sat in a sweating ice-bucket.
Pouring himself another glass, he let the alcohol's langor wash over him, relieving some of the tension he carried in his neck and shoulders. Once the bottle of wine was kicked, he had mojitos in his apartment's freezer, just waiting to wash some memories away.
With a thought he nudged the stereo up a little louder, letting the bright and playful showtunes wash over his soul. Just the thing for a morose young man in the throes of grieving over his lady's departure.
(OOC: Open to any of the Outsiders)
Pouring himself another glass, he let the alcohol's langor wash over him, relieving some of the tension he carried in his neck and shoulders. Once the bottle of wine was kicked, he had mojitos in his apartment's freezer, just waiting to wash some memories away.
With a thought he nudged the stereo up a little louder, letting the bright and playful showtunes wash over his soul. Just the thing for a morose young man in the throes of grieving over his lady's departure.
(OOC: Open to any of the Outsiders)