Lindsey McDonald (stopitevilhand) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-02-23 17:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | lindsey mcdonald, star |
Who: Lindsey and Open
What: One drink too many
When: Late evening, September 23rd
Where: Near a random dive bar
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete
He was pushing drunk.
Lindsey set the empty glass down on the top of the bar harder than he meant to, catching the ear of the nearby bartender. "'nother," he said, indicating the glass. The bartender gave him a look as he kept cleaning the mug with a towel that had seen cleaner days. Lindsey returned the look with an expressive 'what the hell are you waiting for', which didn't seem to motivate the man to move any faster. He finally settled with a glare and pushed the glass forward.
Screw this. He'd been a powerful law firm's golden boy and a player in the apocalypse. Maybe not this dimension's apocalypse but one no less important. So what if here, he was practically nothing all over again? And with that reminder, he wanted that glass refilled again. Nothing. No Wolfram and Hart to make amends with and the only ones that had really carried over were all the "good guys", including one demon that he really wanted to strangle. Everything he'd worked for was just wiped away and that whole 'maybe redemption wasn't so bad'? Yeah, that ended when the supposed morally righteous had taken him out after he'd helped their side. Worst recruiting drive ever.
He motioned at the glass again. "C'mon man, it's not like there's other demands on your attention," he stated in frustration. The bartender set the glass down, and immediately dashed Lindsey's hopes of that refill when he picked up another glass out of the dark water and began drying it. "Fine." He stood up from the stool and took a step back, pointing at the bartender. "You can forget about your tip. Assh-" His leg collided with another table, the man and woman sitting at it protesting as they quickly reached for their drinks.
Lindsey paid them no mind as he stood up a little straighter, chin rising defiantly, and turned to head out. Nearly tripping over another chair. He winced and prayed that he was going to make it out with his dignity intact. And someone must have been listening because he managed to get out the door without running into anymore furniture or knocking drinks over.
Standing outside in the night air, he drew in a deep breath of night air. He was just sober enough to realize that he really needed to just suck it up, head to those apartments, and get one of those damn amulets. The last thing he needed was to end up some demon's puppet. It was one indignity further than he wanted to deal with right now.
He was also drunk enough that now seemed like the best idea. He hesitated, looking up the street and then down, one hand running through his hair. Which way was it again?