(no subject)
When Doc makes his way into the bar, he's tracking mud and snowslush off his boots onto the floorboards but he doesn't care. The door swings shut on Deadwood and he makes his way carefully towards a darkened corner, waving at a waitrat to bring him another whiskey.
(He might as well finish the night off in the bar, he figures.)
He leans back on the bench once he's settled in the booth, closing his eyes and exhaling. He's feeling good -- really good, thanks to the drink he had with dinner and the small bottle of laudanum he got from the dentist after he'd stopped in to see the man about a toothache that had cropped up.
(His tooth didn't really hurt, but if the man knew it, he didn't seem to care. He was getting paid regardless.)
The rat brings his whiskey and Doc downs half the glass before lighting up a cigarette, watching the crowd through a hazy blur of smoke and motion.
[Open for days! He's botherable, even if a little out of it, LOL.]
(He might as well finish the night off in the bar, he figures.)
He leans back on the bench once he's settled in the booth, closing his eyes and exhaling. He's feeling good -- really good, thanks to the drink he had with dinner and the small bottle of laudanum he got from the dentist after he'd stopped in to see the man about a toothache that had cropped up.
(His tooth didn't really hurt, but if the man knew it, he didn't seem to care. He was getting paid regardless.)
The rat brings his whiskey and Doc downs half the glass before lighting up a cigarette, watching the crowd through a hazy blur of smoke and motion.
[Open for days! He's botherable, even if a little out of it, LOL.]