Open to all Ravenclaws: Dom at the bar.
(OOC: After the conversation in which Brice revealed all to his brother.)
Dom is clutching a glass of brandy, and not actually drinking it. It's said to help for medicinal purposes, and he's in shock.
He swirls the drink around and watches as it settles in the wide glass, clutching at the stem as the heady fumes hit his nose.
Dom shoves the glass back and retrieves a bottle of lager. It's not strong, he'll be able to handle it without getting drunk, and maybe he just wants to touch something cold and therefore real.
Because angels can't exist. It's not scientific.
But then neither can magic.
The way Dom sees it, his brain is going to explode either way unless he accepts something; and right now, the something is a stiff drink.
Dom is clutching a glass of brandy, and not actually drinking it. It's said to help for medicinal purposes, and he's in shock.
He swirls the drink around and watches as it settles in the wide glass, clutching at the stem as the heady fumes hit his nose.
Dom shoves the glass back and retrieves a bottle of lager. It's not strong, he'll be able to handle it without getting drunk, and maybe he just wants to touch something cold and therefore real.
Because angels can't exist. It's not scientific.
But then neither can magic.
The way Dom sees it, his brain is going to explode either way unless he accepts something; and right now, the something is a stiff drink.