April Topic for Fandom Muses, "Picture of Shotglasses."
“Give me another,” I muttered and passed the shot glass back to the barkeep, only to change my mind and get a whole damn bottle for me self. Grabbin’ the bottle, I got up and snatched up the shot glass that I had scooted over and took it with me to a booth in the back. Night after night I find myself here at this soddin’ bar. Perhaps it’s just habit. I have no fucking clue. Buffy doesn’t bitch about it and if she does, then she doesn’t bitch about it to me. Sometimes, I ask her to go with me, but I’m alone now, so that would tell anyone how that goes. She’s off, savin’ idiotic people who walk the streets at night. Didn’t their mums ever tell them to stay inside after dark? My mum did, look where that got me. Right.
Pourin’ another shot after I slumped myself in the booth, I grabbed the shot glass and shot it back, lettin’ the liquor burn down my throat. Lovely feeling it is. Comfort knowin’ there’s small things in this world that make me like it. ‘Course, Buffy comin’ first and all.
The door opened to the bar and a familiar talk dark and forehead came billowin’ through it. Well, isn’t that wonderful. There just went my night. Last time I saw him - well … right. Don’t much want to think about it, nor do I want to bring it up. His eyes scanned the bar, sure he felt me here too because when his eyes settled on mine, he wasn’t surprised. He expected it.
He came walkin’ over and sat up a bit and pushed over the bottle as he sat down.
“Aren’t you on the wrong side of town, mate?” I asked him and raised my eyebrow. Not that it was the wrong side, it was just … my side. Beach side, I guess you could say. Where Buffy and I lived, away from the city. Some such. Who gave a rot?
“What brings you over here?”
(open to Angel who wants to get into mischief with Spike because it’s fun.)
Pourin’ another shot after I slumped myself in the booth, I grabbed the shot glass and shot it back, lettin’ the liquor burn down my throat. Lovely feeling it is. Comfort knowin’ there’s small things in this world that make me like it. ‘Course, Buffy comin’ first and all.
The door opened to the bar and a familiar talk dark and forehead came billowin’ through it. Well, isn’t that wonderful. There just went my night. Last time I saw him - well … right. Don’t much want to think about it, nor do I want to bring it up. His eyes scanned the bar, sure he felt me here too because when his eyes settled on mine, he wasn’t surprised. He expected it.
He came walkin’ over and sat up a bit and pushed over the bottle as he sat down.
“Aren’t you on the wrong side of town, mate?” I asked him and raised my eyebrow. Not that it was the wrong side, it was just … my side. Beach side, I guess you could say. Where Buffy and I lived, away from the city. Some such. Who gave a rot?
“What brings you over here?”
(open to Angel who wants to get into mischief with Spike because it’s fun.)