(Untitled)

[anotherlifebro]

Desmond's at the Bar with a mug of coffee, clean-shaven and with his hair combed back.

He's tired, though, and he looks it; the coffee's there for a reason.

He sits watching the bar as a whole, as if looking for something in particular.

Comments

[qsilver_lab_rat]

Perhaps he's looking for the young man who sits at the bar a few minutes later, his hand around a Corona and his eyes on the door.

He's worried. It's obvious.

[anotherlifebro]

Thin, tall, odd hair ... it's a long shot, but Desmond believes in fate (as much as he tried to argue with Charlie), and there's no harm in a simple question. After a moment of studying the man, he puts down his mug and leans across.

"Listen, brother -- you don't know anyone called Darien, do you?"

[qsilver_lab_rat]

Darien looks one way, then the other, and then back at Desmond.

"Uh, yeah, man. That'd be me."

Beat.

"Unless you're looking for your wallet. Cause then, no. Not me."

[anotherlifebro]

"None to look for," he replies, but his humour fades quickly and he slides off his stool to stand. It doesn't seem quite right to be sitting.

"Darien Fawkes, aye? With Charlie?"