Alexander Moore (the_desirous) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-04-15 20:41:00 |
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Current mood: | scared |
Entry tags: | alexander moore, mordred |
Who: Alex Moore and Mordred/Open
When: Around three in the morning.
Where: Three Sheets
Rating: TBA
Three Sheets has a tendency to be quiet, even on its busiest nights--a sort of warm hum pervades the bar, but it isn't a rowdy kind of place. Whoever's bartending is always entrusted with a small handgun, just in case there's trouble, but they've had to use it a grand total of three times in the fifteen years since Alex started working there, and all of those times it was somebody's else's shift (Rob was the unlucky one once, when a drunk off-duty cop lost his temper at being refused more drinks, and Rob shot him in the arm in self-defence while the cute waitress dialed the police in tears).
So being held up while he's closing up is a possibility that has never entered Alex's head. Neither has the fact that he would be able to grab the gun from behind the bar, and that his going for it would coincide with the robber firing off a shot that he's two inches below.
The guy takes off when he sees the handgun, when Alex's dark coffee voice tells him to get the fuck out, having not anticipated any resistance or an equal fight, and in the empty barroom Alex sinks down onto one of the stools in the buttery light, his whole body shaking. These things aren't as bad when you're young and reckless, but when you think of your daughter and your husband back home and realise how there was always a possibility you were going to lose them in that moment, it makes it harder to recover.
The light shines through the windows, inviting as always, but Alex is the only one inside, a silhouette against the glass. A thin man trembling by himself.