WHO: Zeus & Ganymede WHEN: uh. Saturday night, perhaps? WHERE: Swanky little bar, WHAT: Ganymede's having a rough night. Maybe. WARNINGS: Tbd. c:
Ganymede, had gone out with a friend from work to a rather nice bar- nice, perhaps, only in the sense that no one was flinging darts or laughing uproariously. It was dark, swanky, sensual, yet Ganymede soon found himself alone, sipping gently at his second glass of deep red wine, enjoying the pang of sweetness as he considered what he was going to do next.
He couldn't leave with her, no. She'd thought he'd liked her. He'd taken the invitation for drinks very much at face value. It wasn't supposed to have been a date and he certainly wasn't supposed to have found himself pressed against her somewhere in the coat check. He did, however, voice his complaint about their situation, coupled with as much of a gentle shove as he could muster. I do like you, but not like that. While she'd cited her reasons- but you, but you.
And now he was alone, his never-was-a-date stormed off somewhere into oblivion, pulling up her bra straps and swinging around a bottle. She was his ride. And he was not going to bother her about it, wherever she'd gone. At best, he thought, he could settle for a cab. He adjusted his shirt, and slid a finger around the edge of his wine glass, making it sing, quietly.