countingsheep (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} countingsheep) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} unexpectedrpg,@ 2008-07-21 08:00:00 |
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| Current mood: |  cynical |
| Current music: | Funeral music.. |
| Entry tags: | eleanor branstone, zacharias smith |
Who: Zacharias Smith and Eleanor Julia Branstone
What: Discussing marriage and getting wasted and stuff.
When: "Today", 7 P.M.
Where: The Three Broomsticks
Rating: PG-13 for language
Status: Finished!
If glares shot daggers, Zacharias would probably have a few holes in his head at this particular moment. Sitting in a rather untraditional position, he tapped his fingers consistantly atop the glazed brown table of his frequent pub. Living only a few steps from it, so to speak of his flat, it was an easy catch to settle down after a long day at work.
A pair of black high lace-up boots, worn loose, rest against the edge of the table as he leaned down in the chair. He used them to push off just a bit and rock himself in the beaten chair. His pants were a bit tight and a washed black, a zipper chasing down his leg from the knee on each side, which was held closed. His shirt was a simple white, adorned by a few stains- good luck guessing what they were of- and his trademark blazer was a rather loud red plaid.
He brought his tapping to a stop, much to the relief of those around him in the busy-ish pub. He placed both of his hands up to the back of his blonde head and laced them together. His hair stuck up only on the top of his head, the back was too much to be dealing with, and who was he to be impressing her, anyways? Apparently, he wasn't going for that or he would have made an attempt to dress a little better.
He didn't appear to be too pleased about their meeting, his eyebrows drawn together as he gazed at his classic beer, lonely and untouched on the table. He decided he wouldtry to refrain from drinking too much upon their first meeting. Well... it was worth a shot, anyways. Who knew what this would bring to the table.
He pulled a disgusted face as he thought of the word, Ugh- marriage.
Hopefully she'll show... he thought, keeping his rich blue eyes on his sweating beer. It looked as if his nervousness was rubbing off on it, what was he supposed to be expecting from her? Not that she worried him a bit, but none of their shared words had ever been kind. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing...
He brought down one of his feet and reached forward for his beer, taking a few rather large swallows and setting it back down; off-center from the wet ring that indicated where it had once been sitting.
Oh, yeah... he could feel it... This was going to be one tense evening.
A pair of black high lace-up boots, worn loose, rest against the edge of the table as he leaned down in the chair. He used them to push off just a bit and rock himself in the beaten chair. His pants were a bit tight and a washed black, a zipper chasing down his leg from the knee on each side, which was held closed. His shirt was a simple white, adorned by a few stains- good luck guessing what they were of- and his trademark blazer was a rather loud red plaid.
He brought his tapping to a stop, much to the relief of those around him in the busy-ish pub. He placed both of his hands up to the back of his blonde head and laced them together. His hair stuck up only on the top of his head, the back was too much to be dealing with, and who was he to be impressing her, anyways? Apparently, he wasn't going for that or he would have made an attempt to dress a little better.
He didn't appear to be too pleased about their meeting, his eyebrows drawn together as he gazed at his classic beer, lonely and untouched on the table. He decided he would
He pulled a disgusted face as he thought of the word, Ugh- marriage.
Hopefully she'll show... he thought, keeping his rich blue eyes on his sweating beer. It looked as if his nervousness was rubbing off on it, what was he supposed to be expecting from her? Not that she worried him a bit, but none of their shared words had ever been kind. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing...
He brought down one of his feet and reached forward for his beer, taking a few rather large swallows and setting it back down; off-center from the wet ring that indicated where it had once been sitting.
Oh, yeah... he could feel it... This was going to be one tense evening.