08-23-2018, 05:00 PM
[size=9pt]There's a call from the door. Moon glances up while Anima whines to see the figure of Old Joe, the cleaner who usually locks up. He hasn't realized the time; people have spilled out, and he's been distracted cleaning shot glasses. "Closing up, Moon." says the man, one brow raised as he glances to Anima. Moon takes one glance at the woman's crumbling figure and waves him off, "Leave the keys there." he says. And it's with that that he pours his own fucking shot.
He listens to the woman as he hops up on the counter, dragging a hand down his tired face. She sounds like she needs to talk, and who's he to deny some further liver poisoning? "Least you didn't end up in this hospital room with him." he replies, her reference to some fight not taking him by surprise. In the Halfway House they don't talk about the weather; they talk about all the noses they've broken and skulls they've cracked. Hardcore.
He drains his shot and opens the bottle to pour another when she answers his question. He looks to her, knowing. So it was a break-up. Or, a soon to be one, at least. A frown graces his forehead when she speaks. She thinks he should find someone else. Moon's not typically one for heart-to-hearts, but this statement in particular has him hooked. The sides of his mouth droop slightly. "Yeah, no. I get it." says the boy, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He thinks of big, gorgeous eyes and flower-ridden dark hair. "Makes you wonder how good people end up with people like us, huh? Like Satan's using us as his studs to corrupt the rest."
He frowns so abruptly at the money she holds up that he's sure to give her whiplash. He doesn't let himself think about rent, or the loans he has to pay back, or the food he'll have to put on the table tomorrow. It's instinct, still hanging around from years spent struggling. But that's almost in the past now. The Halfway House pays him a steady wage of money and death threats; he's fine. "You think I'm some fuckin' pay-as-you-go broad? I'm flattered, but I don't have my lace panties with me tonight, so I'll have to pass." He waves her off, downs the next shot. "I'm not looking for any fuckin' money, man. The cash register's already locked up, anyway. Keep it. Buy some concealer for that black eye, maybe."
He listens to the woman as he hops up on the counter, dragging a hand down his tired face. She sounds like she needs to talk, and who's he to deny some further liver poisoning? "Least you didn't end up in this hospital room with him." he replies, her reference to some fight not taking him by surprise. In the Halfway House they don't talk about the weather; they talk about all the noses they've broken and skulls they've cracked. Hardcore.
He drains his shot and opens the bottle to pour another when she answers his question. He looks to her, knowing. So it was a break-up. Or, a soon to be one, at least. A frown graces his forehead when she speaks. She thinks he should find someone else. Moon's not typically one for heart-to-hearts, but this statement in particular has him hooked. The sides of his mouth droop slightly. "Yeah, no. I get it." says the boy, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He thinks of big, gorgeous eyes and flower-ridden dark hair. "Makes you wonder how good people end up with people like us, huh? Like Satan's using us as his studs to corrupt the rest."
He frowns so abruptly at the money she holds up that he's sure to give her whiplash. He doesn't let himself think about rent, or the loans he has to pay back, or the food he'll have to put on the table tomorrow. It's instinct, still hanging around from years spent struggling. But that's almost in the past now. The Halfway House pays him a steady wage of money and death threats; he's fine. "You think I'm some fuckin' pay-as-you-go broad? I'm flattered, but I don't have my lace panties with me tonight, so I'll have to pass." He waves her off, downs the next shot. "I'm not looking for any fuckin' money, man. The cash register's already locked up, anyway. Keep it. Buy some concealer for that black eye, maybe."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]