CLOSED LOG: SHINJI AND GREED/LING
Who: Aragaki Shinjiro and_my_ax and Greed/Ling homuncuprince
What: Two bored assholes at a bar
When: NOW
Where: Dwarfed Giraffe Bar
Why: Because Ryo and I are bored and log whores
Rated: PG 13 because neither one of them can go long without cursing.
Note: If you happened to be in the bar, there's a SLIGHT chance you might overhear some of this.
Shinjiro wasn't really the type of person to play the bar scene. In fact, back home, he used to skulk around alley ways, places that were out of sight. He didn't really care for being around people that much. Drunk people were worse. Sure they were good for the occasional laugh, but Shinjiro had come across far too many bitter, depressed drunks in the back alleys he wandered. Assholes who thought that losing their job, or their girlfriend breaking up with them meant the end of the fucking world to them. Boo hoo he used to mutter in his mind, like any of them had anything really serious to cry over. It was life and they wanted to find some way to look at it through bleary, scotch tinted glasses.
And yet, here he was, sitting on a bar stool, hands shoved in his pockets. A guy on the precipice of death, and a guy who seems to cross it continuously. Odd drinking buddies indeed.
"And you work in this fuckin' dive?"
What: Two bored assholes at a bar
When: NOW
Where: Dwarfed Giraffe Bar
Why: Because Ryo and I are bored and log whores
Rated: PG 13 because neither one of them can go long without cursing.
Note: If you happened to be in the bar, there's a SLIGHT chance you might overhear some of this.
Shinjiro wasn't really the type of person to play the bar scene. In fact, back home, he used to skulk around alley ways, places that were out of sight. He didn't really care for being around people that much. Drunk people were worse. Sure they were good for the occasional laugh, but Shinjiro had come across far too many bitter, depressed drunks in the back alleys he wandered. Assholes who thought that losing their job, or their girlfriend breaking up with them meant the end of the fucking world to them. Boo hoo he used to mutter in his mind, like any of them had anything really serious to cry over. It was life and they wanted to find some way to look at it through bleary, scotch tinted glasses.
And yet, here he was, sitting on a bar stool, hands shoved in his pockets. A guy on the precipice of death, and a guy who seems to cross it continuously. Odd drinking buddies indeed.
"And you work in this fuckin' dive?"