|Eric Munch (muuunch) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-03-08 21:42:00
|Current music:||will smith - gettin' jiggy wit it|
|Entry tags:||!1998: 03, !incomplete, eric munch, marcus flint|
|WHO:| Eric Munch | Marcus Flint
|WHEN:| Monday, 8 March, evening
|WHERE:| A wizarding pub in London's centre
|WHAT:| Eric had a long weekend working and needed to get away and lose himself in a few pints.
|STATUS:| In Progress | OPEN
If Eric was going to be honest with himself, he entered the bar with hopes of walking out with a witch too young for him. He wanted to drink, especially consider who he head to deal with on a regular basis. However, even Eric could not compromise his high standards after a few beers (nor did he expect a witch to compromise hers).
"Whiskey double and a beer," he said, "and something deep fried. I don't care what it is." Taking a seat at the bar on a stool—which he found uncomfortable, but the best spot to talk to those around him—Eric rubbed his face momentarily. He was not looking for someone to take pity on him or share their bad day with him (even Eric was not there to whine, he was there to 'socialise'). As much as he disapproved of drinking for the sole purpose of 'feeling better', he did not do this often. At least he did not do this alone, anyhow.
Considering it was a Monday, his closest mates were unable to join him. Bullocks, he thought, downing the whiskey in one gulp, they've all got girlfriends and a normal schedule. Here I am, sitting alone in a pub. I really did think I was smarter than this. Apparently not. His parents pressed him to find more friends and to go out more often, but if only they could see how pathetic it looked when Eric took their advice—ending up in a pub, whose name he could not remember, on a Monday evening.
"I'm bloody pathetic," he mumbled, drinking straight from the bottle.