(no subject)
Someone who had been gone for a very long time finally showed up again. A haunted, quiet rhythm guitarist from Norway sneaked into the bar and sat down in front of the fire, with not a word to Bar, to any passerby, or even a rat.
He still managed, somehow, to get a bowl of Boo Berry cereal and a glass of orange juice, as well as a half a grapefruit and some toast. He stared at the slight images that the fire made, and didn't say a word. He just ate his breakfast.
If anyone were to recognize him, the one difference in him is that, despite the brooding and quiet (When Toki Wartooth was rarely either), he was wearing a black tee-shirt instead of a blue-gray one. He needed to come to a place of joy and happiness, and of safety. He never felt more safe than at the bar.
He still managed, somehow, to get a bowl of Boo Berry cereal and a glass of orange juice, as well as a half a grapefruit and some toast. He stared at the slight images that the fire made, and didn't say a word. He just ate his breakfast.
If anyone were to recognize him, the one difference in him is that, despite the brooding and quiet (When Toki Wartooth was rarely either), he was wearing a black tee-shirt instead of a blue-gray one. He needed to come to a place of joy and happiness, and of safety. He never felt more safe than at the bar.