(no subject)
[It's a late night inside of a bar set in some city that seems to be bustling with life. At the bar counter sits a man in a suit, with quite the smug expression on his face. He isn't paying much mind to the drink in the glass set before him, as his right index finger simply traces the rim of the glass repeatedly.
He isn't even doing anything else. He isn't eying anyone from across the bar, watching the television, or waiting for a friend.
Just being creepy. Go figure.]
He isn't even doing anything else. He isn't eying anyone from across the bar, watching the television, or waiting for a friend.
Just being creepy. Go figure.]