Re: Log: Seven/Liam
[Seven was at the Bar, that much rang true. Whether or not he was actually getting any work done remained to be seen. In between talking to Marta and the conversation with Liam, he thought it'd be a damn sight lucky if he accomplished much more than wiping the same spot on the bar over and over with a wet rag. His eyes darted up every time he heard the clamour of the front door swishing open. It was early enough that it didn't happen often, and his heart sank every time that it turned out to be one of the regulars in for a lapdance on their lunch break.
He was dressed unremarkably, dark jeans and an old Henley worn soft in a faded grey cotton that clung. His hair was just long enough to be swept back from his forehead, not nearly long enough to be gathered into a bun. His face was decorated with scruff, but the bushy beard was gone. He was a man of the In-Between, right now.
He'd given up on pretending to wipe down the bar by the time the door announced itself with a new arrival, perched at a hightop table and absently scrolling through this week's purchasing order. He looked up, and his fingers froze over the trackpad.]