Ian Savage (isavage) wrote in plagued_logs, @ 2016-03-06 15:40:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 1999 march, augustus rookwood, ian savage |
Who: Ian Savage and Augustus Rookwood
What: Ian is drowning his sorrows
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: The Hog's Head
Rating: TBD
It had been over a week since Ian had been able to do magic. He was still reporting for his normal patrols, but most of his off time was spent warming a seat in the Hog's Head. He felt lost. There was no way he could do anything really useful without magic. He was just another victim waiting to happen now, despite his good intentions.
And so he turned to his old friend, beer. Perhaps whiskey would numb the frustration more quickly, but most of the time he had hours to kill, and beer was cheaper. He was staying as far away as possible from his fellow aurors, not wanting to see the pity in their faces, or have to even discuss the fact that he couldn't do the simplest of things.
He stared morosely into his glass, tucked into a corner booth, glancing over a letter he'd been trying to write to his father. He wondered if he should tell him about the virus.