Repose

Who: Graham and Leah.
What: Stuff. Things
Where: The Roadhouse.
When: Nowish.
Warnings/Ratings: Uh probably none idk.

Graham worked nights, mostly. Dusk to dawn. More to secure the cemetery against then, people trying to sneak in, kids, ne'er-do-wells, sometimes he'd have a day shift every now and then but it wasn't very common. No, days he slept some or worked on fixing up his house. Went for walks in the woods. Or, like today, he found himself someplace quiet to drink.

Booze, he could take or leave. But when the living and the dead were real set on talking and existing in his space, well, he liked to clear it out. Recharge. Out at the Roadhouse he'd find himself a corner, and nobody bothered him much so long and he didn't bother nobody. Quiet, he was good at that. Too good, maybe, he knew looking too long and too hard without words could make people uncomfortable sometimes. Not that he meant to stare, yeah? But some folks had the dead at their shoulders and he couldn't help it. Ain't like he'd asked to see what most couldn't.

But yeah, a nice corner, a glass of watery whiskey, and Graham just watched. People came in, sat at the bar, played pool, and left. Sometimes he made eye contact, sometimes he tried to smile. Mostly, he just observed.