WHO Claire Vickers OT All WHAT Enjoying a liquid lunch while she settles into town. WHERE Miller's Tavern WHEN Sunday, October 16, 2016, 12:30PM WARNINGS TBD
Claire had spent the better part of the morning moving into her apartment. The act was so needlessly mundane that it made her want to claw her hair out. She had small-talked with the landlord, played host to the movers, and greeted her new neighbors. It was exhausting and needless, but that was what “normal” humans did, right? Claire usually didn’t play it so friendly. Most of the time, she moved to a new town without a word to anyone, only reaching out to her assigned targets. But Havenwood was going to be different; it had to be different. Her work was too important for her to take any risks. Should anyone start sniffing around, asking questions, the last person to be suspected would be Claire Vickers in apartment 4C.
Regardless of why she was here, today’s experience had left a taste in her mouth that she’d needed to wash out, even if it was only half-past noon. There was a time when Claire got a kick out of drinking on Sunday -- actually, drinking in general. She was well over two centuries old when she had her first full glass of alcohol, but still she felt the smallest sliver of teenage rebellion. For a while thereafter, every drink she had was like a middle finger toward her parents and the values that had been beaten into her. But decades passed, and slowly but surely, going into a bar no longer held the rewarding feeling it once did. Now, a drink was a drink.
Claire was dressed comfortably, but she still felt out of place amongst some of the other bar patrons -- what few there were. She cared, if only a little, though not enough for her to retreat back home with a bottle of something she’d bought from the corner store. Taking a seat at the bar, she ordered her standard, rum and coke, hoping that this place would be more generous than others with the alcohol.