Fisher Majors (hearitbleed) wrote in halcyon_halls, @ 2008-11-18 21:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | fisher, james |
Week 22- Thursday
Who: James and Fisher
What: Drinking until we can't feel feelings anymore
Where: The Local Dive
When: Night
It was Thirsty Thursday, and Fisher felt he deserved a little numbness. He had agreed not to imbibe alcohol as part of his condition for being at Halcyon, all expenses paid, but... fuck that. The old man (who Fisher did not even know) had no clue what life was like in Fisher's shoes. He didn't deal with random dead people asking favors of him, or with the strange looks received when Fisher told said needy spirits to shut up. There were students here who had it worse, that was true. But it didn't make Fisher's situation suck any less. Besides, he wasn't drinking to get totally smashed. He just needed to relax. That and find something to do. He'd come in too late in the semester, so he didn't have classes yet to occupy his time.
The bartender set down a shotglass in front of Fisher, tossed in three ice cubes and poured in two ounces of straight scotch from one of those tiny portion-nozzled bottles. Fisher nodded a thanks, then sipped. He could've gulped it down, but rehab had benefitted him enough for him to know that yes, he had had a drinking problem and it hadn't solved anything. So it was best not to try and drown yourself.
Fisher's garb was subdued tonight, decked out in his Gears of War hoodie and downplayed zipper pants. Fisher liked emo clothing- the style was far too ridiculous to resist, and before living like a hobo he had access to a lot of money. Coming from a wealthy family had its advantages. Luckily he'd managed to keep most of his clothing, despite having nowhere to live for months at a time. He'd decided not to get all decked out tonight, just in case the locals at the bar did not approve of rich boys who dressed like they knew a damn thing about hardship. (It didn't matter that this former rich boy actually did know hardship- when you wear clothing that costs more than some people make in a week, you lose the right to complain about anything.) So tonight there were no hanging chains on his pants, not eyeliner around his eyes and his long, unruly hair was at the very least pushed behind his ears.
As he took another sip of his poison, he sighed contentedly and readied himself for a peaceful night alone.