Holy Pub Shenanigans! / Apparently I really love strikethrough font.
WHO: Cross Marian and... You?
WHAT: Sundry pub shenanigansI would listen to a band called that. Just sayin'.
WHEN: Monday Night
WHERE: The Black Stallion PubOr whatever it's getting called these days
WARNINGS: PG for safety's sake, will update if needed.
STATUS: [In Progress]
As with so many other nights, Cross Marian was... Bored. He had spent his day reading, sleeping, drinking, doing the sorts of things that he'd always enjoyed so much when they meant that he was doing them instead of working. Now, though... Now, it seemed different, and the unanticipated change in the dynamic of his life had left him restless. It was all he did anymore, and much though he still enjoyed the acts themselves...
Well. Change was nice.
Solitude was something Cross enjoyed, usually--and with certain exceptions, obviously--but once in a while... Perhaps socialization was called for.
It was with this in mind that he headed to the pub, not an unusual act in and of itself, but this time he forwent his usual booth for a seat at an open table, and sat to face the room. No, sat to survey the room. He removed his hat. He did not sprawl to take up space but rather leaned his elbows to either side of his Romanée Conti and watched. Tonight was an experiment. Something different.
After all, who knew?
WHAT: Sundry pub shenanigansI would listen to a band called that. Just sayin'.
WHEN: Monday Night
WHERE: The Black Stallion PubOr whatever it's getting called these days
WARNINGS: PG for safety's sake, will update if needed.
STATUS: [In Progress]
As with so many other nights, Cross Marian was... Bored. He had spent his day reading, sleeping, drinking, doing the sorts of things that he'd always enjoyed so much when they meant that he was doing them instead of working. Now, though... Now, it seemed different, and the unanticipated change in the dynamic of his life had left him restless. It was all he did anymore, and much though he still enjoyed the acts themselves...
Well. Change was nice.
Solitude was something Cross enjoyed, usually--and with certain exceptions, obviously--but once in a while... Perhaps socialization was called for.
It was with this in mind that he headed to the pub, not an unusual act in and of itself, but this time he forwent his usual booth for a seat at an open table, and sat to face the room. No, sat to survey the room. He removed his hat. He did not sprawl to take up space but rather leaned his elbows to either side of his Romanée Conti and watched. Tonight was an experiment. Something different.
After all, who knew?