Desmond Miles £ 002

[failssassin]

Who: failssassin and somarium !!!
Where: The Fire in the Hole club in Somni
Style: Starts in third, but either is fine with me
Status: OPEN!!! Come drink your sorrows away!!
Warning: Desmond has a foul mouth, so language.

'Thump thump thump thump'

Comments

[onethirdavarice]

It really wouldn't even have taken much effort to throw Locke out. Skinny as he was, and with how poorly he had been taking care of himself one might as well have been throwing a sack of feathers. But sour attitude or not, it wasn't Locke's intention to get tossed out of the club. After all, getting thrown out was detrimental to getting as drunk as he humanly could before he either a) died of alcohol poisoning or b) stumbled out and passed out in the nearest alleway.

"Thanks," Locke murmured as the glass was slid across the counter of the bar. He reached out, taking it up with his right hand and slamming it back as quickly as his throat would allow him to. He hissed and winced faintly; this was a hell of a lot stronger than the watered down pinkish swill he had been drowning himself in in Vel Virazzo, and carried a gods-damned lot more bite, but he was far from complaining.

Setting it back down on the table Locke pushed the glass across the counter, and back toards the bartender. "I'd like another he murmured, his head hanging to stare at the counter top, a sigh escaping him at the question. He drew his hand back, fisting it in his hair as he awaited the glass to be refilled, and considered the question that had been put forward.

"Yeah," he replied dryly, "Something like that. Something like a horse kicking you in the gods-damned kidneys. Now it's just staunching the bleeding," he paused then, lifting his head enough to watch as the other refilled his glass, "Or something to make it worse," he pushed this thought away though. He didn't want worse; he wanted drowning. Wanted to forget.

[failssassin]

Desmond watched as the other man nearly turned an eye as he downed the whiskey, lips curling in an almost amused smile. Though it was sad to see someone in such a need to get drunk--not that it was the first the bartender was seeing such a thing--it was clear that the man wasn't used to drink hard liquor.

The Assassin refilled the empty glass without saying a thing. It wasn't his place to judge or make sermons about not drowning one's sorrow in booze.

"That bad, huh?" he asked as he drank from his own glass. "This world or yours that's been kicking your ass that seriously?"