Vasco Rojas ✞ Qrow Branwen (bornunlucky) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2020-09-28 18:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | daisy rojas, vasco rojas |
Who: Vasco and Daisy Rojas
What: Daisy's making sure that Vasco's life is sufficiently ruined
Where: Bullseye, in LA
When: Monday, September 28; evening
Warnings: He's a sad alcoholic, she's an angry sociopath, it's totally safe...
Monday nights were the perfect time for feeling sorry for yourself at a bar.
It was early enough in the week that there wasn't a crowd, before all but the most dedicated of alcoholics had given up on pretending that they were going to be responsible and not go to work with a hangover the next day. The dedicated alcoholics, like Vasco, knew that the secret was to never let the level of alcohol in their blood dip low enough for the hangover (the withdrawal) to even start. There was a balance to it, an art even. How much of a buzz he could maintain and still do his job. How sober he could get without facing the consequences, not to mention the things he was drinking to... not forget about, but numb to a tolerable level. If he went even a little bit too far in either direction there would be hell to pay. Luckily, at this point he knew exactly where both of those limits were. For example, he knew that he was still a couple of drinks away from striking up a conversation, maybe even a flirtation, with one of the other dedicated alcoholics he was sharing the bar with without worrying about whether his luck would ruin both their nights.
At the moment, Vasco wasn't sure he wanted his night to go there. The loneliness wasn't clawing at his insides hard enough again yet, wasn't leaving him desperate enough to risk subjecting someone else to himself. In a couple more drinks, though, it probably wouldn't matter whether he'd started the night off wanting to go there or not. A few more drinks after that and nothing would matter, period. Vasco didn't let himself go that far often. Unlike Qrow, he didn't have someone to pull himself back together for if he ever fell too far. No Ruby. No Yang. No ragtag group of kids (the oldest of them weren't that much younger than Vasco was now, but viewed through Qrow's perspective they would always be kids) that needed adult guidance, however dubious his might be.
Just him. Alone. Like every Monday night since he'd lost both of the only friends he'd ever had, and only one of them to death.
Maybe the loneliness was starting to claw a little harder after all.
Vasco looked at the amber liquid in his glass, considered its level with a surprisingly steady glance. It was probably low enough that he could manage to toss the rest of it back without choking on it or something equally embarrassing, and if he was wrong then he'd probably forget about being embarrassed by the time it hit him, anyway. He shrugged and went for it.