Connor didn't exist. Everything he'd known in his lifetime was gone, replaced by the unfamiliar. Family and friends didn't exist, his favorite bar had been replaced by a diner, and waking up on a bench in Lawrence hadn't been the only displacement that had happened without him being aware of it. Somehow he'd gone from March of '99 to December of 2010. He'd somehow jumped eleven fucking years and into another world altogether where the world was about to end. No one could blame him for wanting to get good and drunk because his head hurt from trying to make sense of it all.
Of course, that led to the small problem of money. He'd shown up with nothing to his name except the clothes on his back and boots on his feet. No money, no ID, nothing. There was liquor at the complex but he'd spent enough time inside, trying to get a feel for his new surroundings. Besides, he needed the money for more than just a couple of rounds. He'd stretched out his last pack of cigarettes as much as he could, but he was one away from going cold turkey and the withdrawal kicking in. The last time that had happened, he'd been so miserable he'd swore he wouldn't try again anytime soon.
Since finding a job was going to take time and he didn't know or trust anyone well enough to borrow, that left him with hustling. Pool wasn't his usual but he was decent enough at it and he had someone who was cocky and drunk enough to give up some cash, so Connor took him up on his offer. Halfway through their game, he'd stumbled off, claiming that he needed to relieve himself and after a laughable threat, staggered off to do just that. Connor leaned against a nearby table, taking a drink from the glass as he stared at the table, calculating his next move.
When his "buddy" returned, he wasn't alone. As the dark haired man moved in, he set the glass down and headed over. His pool partner began to turn but Connor quickly stepped in, hands up. "Whoa," he said, looking between the two men. "I'm sure we can resolve this without things getting to bloody, yeah?"