{we live as we die
Who; sarifattackdog and wasinnocent
What; Random bar encounter ftw
Where; ...A... bar. Go figure.
When; November 30, evening
Rating; Mehh, T, just in case. Language and all.
Status; Ongoing; closed
Considering how much time Jensen had spent in bars since arriving in the Underworld, it would only be a point of concern if he actually bothered with drinking every time, let alone with the rare occasion of getting drunk.
Tonight was a case of the former: he'd settled at a table this time towards the back, more or less facing the middle of the room and the door to watch people come and go. His retinal display showed only the dead so far -- well, the native dead plus himself -- and after a while he'd finally turned the voices into background noise and the passing people into noted glances, focusing more on his beer and then eventually into the cigarette he withdrew and lighted.
The bar wasn't terribly dark like the places he often preferred these days, so Jensen had settled for retracting his lenses back from his eyes despite recent habits. Donning his usual coat, he could have passed for entirely normal at a glance; only at close range would one notice the off-color of his irises, or the texture of his hands, or maybe even pick up on the heaviness to his breathing that was the sound of his lungs filtering the smoke and other shit from each drag of the cigarette.
Usual things, in short, that he didn't even notice himself anymore.
What; Random bar encounter ftw
Where; ...A... bar. Go figure.
When; November 30, evening
Rating; Mehh, T, just in case. Language and all.
Status; Ongoing; closed
Considering how much time Jensen had spent in bars since arriving in the Underworld, it would only be a point of concern if he actually bothered with drinking every time, let alone with the rare occasion of getting drunk.
Tonight was a case of the former: he'd settled at a table this time towards the back, more or less facing the middle of the room and the door to watch people come and go. His retinal display showed only the dead so far -- well, the native dead plus himself -- and after a while he'd finally turned the voices into background noise and the passing people into noted glances, focusing more on his beer and then eventually into the cigarette he withdrew and lighted.
The bar wasn't terribly dark like the places he often preferred these days, so Jensen had settled for retracting his lenses back from his eyes despite recent habits. Donning his usual coat, he could have passed for entirely normal at a glance; only at close range would one notice the off-color of his irises, or the texture of his hands, or maybe even pick up on the heaviness to his breathing that was the sound of his lungs filtering the smoke and other shit from each drag of the cigarette.
Usual things, in short, that he didn't even notice himself anymore.