Finished/Closed
WHO: Samuel Vimes and Ken Hidaka + anybody else who arrives
WHAT: Vimes does whathe does best and Ken runs into him? We shall see!
WHERE: Miscellenous neutral sleazy bar with a few inconspicuous mobsters and coppers here and there.
WHEN: Day 177
OPEN TO: Anybody who likes to drink, or to socialize with drinkers?
It was one of those hours in a bar, where people had just finished off dinner and decided to finish it off by getting completely and thoroughly drunk and calling it a day. Although judging by the people in the bar, it looked like meals consisted of either a silent wife at the other end of the table, an instant dinner, or... booze instead of alcohol.
At any rate, Vimes, being one of those who vyed for the liquor-instead-of-food option that night, sat on a stool. He wasn't drunk yet, because he didn't get drunk that easily (unfortunately), but he had had enough so that the world around him didn't look like a shithole populated by guys who'd chop your head off at any opportunity and death and scum and the rest of the shit that went on in the city. It was days like these, where you heard about a few murders done over a good drink. Or a mob fight affecting all around good, only somewhat-guilty citizens.
God, he had even seen an advertisement for a rebellion. An advertisement. One, rebellions never worked, two, they had so little faith in the cops that they did it in the open, and three, rebellions never worked.
It depressed him so much that he decided that he'd go outside for a smoke before having more liquor. With the combination of his two vices, he hoped that the world would be a warm, welcoming place where everything was happiness and medals and life all day long.
He doubted it, but at least it'd look a little less bleak than it was now. He excused himself (to the chagrin of the barkeep, who wanted to keep customers in for as long as possible) and leaned against the building, cigarette in mouth. He exhaled, heavily, a mixture of the scents of liquor and smoke escaping his lips, and watched the world go by.
WHAT: Vimes does whathe does best and Ken runs into him? We shall see!
WHERE: Miscellenous neutral sleazy bar with a few inconspicuous mobsters and coppers here and there.
WHEN: Day 177
OPEN TO: Anybody who likes to drink, or to socialize with drinkers?
It was one of those hours in a bar, where people had just finished off dinner and decided to finish it off by getting completely and thoroughly drunk and calling it a day. Although judging by the people in the bar, it looked like meals consisted of either a silent wife at the other end of the table, an instant dinner, or... booze instead of alcohol.
At any rate, Vimes, being one of those who vyed for the liquor-instead-of-food option that night, sat on a stool. He wasn't drunk yet, because he didn't get drunk that easily (unfortunately), but he had had enough so that the world around him didn't look like a shithole populated by guys who'd chop your head off at any opportunity and death and scum and the rest of the shit that went on in the city. It was days like these, where you heard about a few murders done over a good drink. Or a mob fight affecting all around good, only somewhat-guilty citizens.
God, he had even seen an advertisement for a rebellion. An advertisement. One, rebellions never worked, two, they had so little faith in the cops that they did it in the open, and three, rebellions never worked.
It depressed him so much that he decided that he'd go outside for a smoke before having more liquor. With the combination of his two vices, he hoped that the world would be a warm, welcoming place where everything was happiness and medals and life all day long.
He doubted it, but at least it'd look a little less bleak than it was now. He excused himself (to the chagrin of the barkeep, who wanted to keep customers in for as long as possible) and leaned against the building, cigarette in mouth. He exhaled, heavily, a mixture of the scents of liquor and smoke escaping his lips, and watched the world go by.