Coby

[st_artandstoke]

So it was really early in the day, but there were certain revelations that warranted finding your way to the bottom of a bottle no matter what time it was. Besides, everyone else was still outside, enjoying the snow - or close enough that the bar was deserted, not even a bartender in sight. That worked perfectly well for Jag, who'd snagged a bottle of whiskey, a lowball, and was sitting sideways in one of those fucking pink booths, feet up on the seat.

He'd grabbed the glass but wasn't using it after all, drinking straight from the bottle and wondering when his eyes would stop stinging. His lungs were so full of emotion he didn't feel as if he'd breathed right since he'd seen the winged horse in the snow, and he wanted it all to go away, even for just a moment.

Comments

[st_rummer]

Coby had come in to warm up a little, and stopped by the bar with the idea of irishing up some coffee to make the warming up go that much faster. The place looked empty, but felt occupied, the way places did sometimes. As Coby tried to figure out what gave him that feeling, he heard the dull thunk of glass against wood, a bottle if he wasn't mistaken. And he didn't think he was; he'd poured himself enough drinks in quiet rooms for it to be familiar.

Somebody day drinking. Alone. When there was magic snow outside. That wasn't good.

When he saw it was Jag, Coby slid into the opposite side of the booth, mirroring his position instead of facing him directly. He took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly at the burn to his tongue. "Not enjoying the winter wonderland?"