Re: log: bar with no name, Red & Noir
"My family calls me Amy mostly," she said, and she wasn't even sure why she made that admission. Really, really, it wasn't even true. Si called her Amy. Ames. Everyone else had adopted Hannah with an ease that was kind of scary, and it was as if Amy had never existed. Or, maybe she'd existed, but she hadn't been important enough to linger on, not even in naming. It was sad, and that wasn't a thought for this bar she was sitting at, and she'd kind of already said too much. "But everyone else calls me Hannah," she continued easily, silken word to silken word, and her smile holding onto that same carefree sweetness that left most people thinking her vacuous.
She rolled her eyes up a little, as if to look at the coppery locks at her forehead, and then she laughed and thanked the bartender for her drink. It tasted sharp and fizzy, and she knew it was probably really watered down. She could get drunk, just like an organic person, but she didn't intend to. She wasn't afraid of anything that might happen if she did, but she didn't like how it felt too much, at least not until she was well in the throes of it. She much, much preferred being high.
"I wasn't sure if you'd be here," she said with her usual candor. "You seemed tied up to your secrets, like a ribbon and bow with the bow knotted tight in the center. You seemed a little scared, or maybe like you didn't want to be seen." It was pretty obvious, as she sat there that, whatever Hannah's problems were, they didn't include not wanting to be seen. She was sitting sideways on her stool, facing Marta and the space tight and small, the bar dark and murky, and she was confidence with straight shoulders and an open smile. "I don't mind being seen," she added unnecessarily.