Conway Rankin // oc // yep, bar
When Conway stumbles in the doorway of what he thinks is his cabin, he shakes the snow from his hair, stomps it from his boots, and takes a quick breath.
The air is very warm.
His cabin is never this warm.
Slowly, he looks up, and his hazel-green eyes widen when he sees the interior of what appears to be a bar.
This is definitely not his cabin. This is... not anywhere he's ever seen before. If a new bar was built in the area, he'd have known about it, and he's not drunk, so there's no way he stumbled into the wrong place. He had to unlock his own door to get here.
... wherever "here" is.
He unwraps his tartan scarf from around his neck and takes a cautious step further into the bar. The warmth of it is enough to keep him from running back out, and if they serve drinks, he sees no reason why he should be in that much of a rush to leave.
The air is very warm.
His cabin is never this warm.
Slowly, he looks up, and his hazel-green eyes widen when he sees the interior of what appears to be a bar.
This is definitely not his cabin. This is... not anywhere he's ever seen before. If a new bar was built in the area, he'd have known about it, and he's not drunk, so there's no way he stumbled into the wrong place. He had to unlock his own door to get here.
... wherever "here" is.
He unwraps his tartan scarf from around his neck and takes a cautious step further into the bar. The warmth of it is enough to keep him from running back out, and if they serve drinks, he sees no reason why he should be in that much of a rush to leave.