Jace Caffrey (streetpunk) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-11-26 22:57:00 |
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So, apparently the search party had all hauled ass out of Dodge because a dog had shown up at the gate. Sure, it probably meant something significant, but to Jace it had just seemed like a lot of chaos in a short span of time. He wasn’t that on top of it, to be honest. There wasn’t much chance that he would have gone with, wasn’t cut out for search partying, not really. But he wished them luck; hoped like hell that they wouldn’t be bringing back a body to bury. This place was getting fucking macabre with how many bodies that were showing up lately. Someone needed to man the bar anyways. There was bound to be a couple poor suckers that wanted to drown all their worry in the bottom of a glass. Not that he was, you know, encouraging the heavy drinking. But it was a thing around this place. Bunch of functioning alcoholics. He wasn’t stone throwing though; people could do what they wanted. He definitely enjoyed a drink or two himself, even when he was supposed to be ‘working’. Not like anyone could fire him for it. But the place was quieter tonight, had been like that all night, even if the search party hadn’t been that large, it had still been more than a few people. Apparently it made a difference in the drinking crowd; even in the middle of the night. Shuffling bottles around the shelves was about the only thing to do; he’d already read through half of an old Rolling Stone that he’d scavenged from a stack of magazines in the rec room. It was weird to think sometimes that there’d never be new music again. And the stuff he'd been reading about, well, it hadn't seemed all that hot either. So yeah, shuffling bottles around, with some CD of random punk songs playing in the background. It had The Clash, on it, so he considered it all right. And hey, at least there was no one around right now to listen to him butcher the words to London Calling; he coulda sworn he knew them all at one point. Fucking memory. |