The noise usual had become a blur in the background; soft murmurs of conversation, the patter of the rain upon the windows and the rooftop, the clink of glasses being placed upon the bar top or the bar back. His vision would earn halos of color, everything seemed to have it’s own shadowed ring of hue or a bit of fuzz here and there. That clearly was no deterrent to his current actions. So the soft echo of the word of camaraderie was nearly lost upon Logan’s ears.
He did hear it, though, and in his muddled state he cast a glance over in the direction of the source finding comfort in the presence of a familiar stranger. He knew the man a few chairs down by presence alone. The name was eluding him at the moment considering the amount of alcohol he’d imbibed. Eyes would squint as he did the best he could to sort through the catalogue of names struggling to pin the tail on the backside of that evasive donkey, failing miserably.
“Cheers,” Logan would echo, elevating the tiny glass clutched in large fingers. Turning back to the drink it was effectively knocked backward and with a refreshed sound it clattered gently to the flat surface before him as all of the others before it had.