Hard Row
If you wanna go and leave your man, Go on, I’ll understand
But then the night gets dark, all is still, Pray for me, I know you will
Hard row to hoe all by yourself
It's midday at Milliways, and Fiona has broken out the whiskey. The weather is warm enough, she's wearing a pair of well worn jeans and a wife beater.
You hit the city, it swallow you whole, Y’got no friends darlin’, t’satisfy your soul
And then the sidewalk ends, lights all red, y’say t’yourself, y'better off dead
Hard row to hoe all by yourself
After a short but intense consultation with the jukebox, Fiona has taken her usual spot at the bar. Her back is against the wall, and she's sitting on one barstool, her bare feet resting on another. She has a bottle of Red Breast cracked, the stopper carelessly pitched behind the bar somewhere, and a glass. For appearance's sake.
Walk out on me, walk out on him, You need no man to do you in
But if the night gets dark, all is still, I'll pray for you, you know I will
The growly guitar and harsh vocals of the music suits her mood right now. Her fellow patrons are really glad she doesn't have access to the volume control. Between Ramon disappearing and Michael showing up in the bar, it has not been her week. (With apologies to Ironhide, who really did manage to cheer her up for a few minutes.)
Hard row to hoe all by yourself,
All by yourself
All by yourself
All by yourself
Hence? Whiskey.
[ ooc: Open till it scrolls, slowtime is love and all that. Caution: crazy is on the menu. Music by the Black Keys. ]