(no subject)

[henry_jones_jr]

* Indy's been sitting at the bar for some time. Alone. Knocking back the whiskey and staring off into nothingness. Pretty typical night really. Drinking and thinking. Thinking and drinking. The rats don't care. He drinks his share, pays his tab with various oddments and priceless artifacts, falls over once in a while, flirts a bit when Tere isn't around — fairly unassuming for the most part. Why should they care? They just serve the drinks. And Indy drinks them *

* Anyway, he's there... *