Who: Dexter Morgan and George Lass What: Just a couple drinks When: August 21 (Friday Night) Where: The Crecent Hotel, downstairs lounge Why: Why not?
Shady lighting, splintering tables, and the overwhelming smell of mold and whiskey int he air. Okay, it wasn't the Tropicana, but it would do.
Dexter Morgan wasn't much for drinking. No, that was usually left to his kid sister. Sure, he'd gone out a time two with the guys from work, but he was always careful. He had to be. Booze often led to truths. Dark, undesirable truths that were never intended to leave one's lips. Confessions of secret desires, one time events, and other secrets that should be kept just that...secret.
But, there was sometimes a time and place where a stiff drink was just what the doctor ordered. And, waking up in a strange hotel room in a stranger town with no idea how you got there was probably one of them.
Dexter slipped up to the bar, meeting the man behind it's gaze and nodding for him to come over before he placed a five dollar bill on the table and made his order. Just a glass of bourbon. Not his usual fair, but beer seemed too subtle at a time like this. Dressed in his usual khaki's and a faded blue shirt, he stood out a little in this town..an obvious 'tourist' among the locals. Not that Dexter cared. He brought the glass to his lips as his eyes searched through the smokey haze to the crowd. They spoke quietly amongst themselves..mostly in flannels, bluejeans...Middle America.