Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} coyoti) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} paxletalelogs, |
Chris was half limping as he headed back toward the snack table; though he had but one cup in his hand, the carousing he'd just momentarily snuck away from would not welcome him back gladly if he returned empty handed. Still, he gave himself a few moments to breathe as he ladled more of the red stuff into his cup, leaning against the snack table (it bent a little under his weight, not suited for such a task).
Nearby was a semi-familiar man, at least in that Chris had seen him around the apartment. He couldn't have given him a name—he knew he should have been able, though the usual crushing guilt regarding his role in all of this was nowhere to be found, helpfully chased off by the aggressive spirit of alcohol—and he decided that now was an apt time to fix that.
"You," he started, slurring a little. "Where do I...do I know you?" He squinted, as though doing so would suddenly make the question of the other man's face clear.