Post by нαℓƒ~мσση on Mar 2, 2014 17:11:31 GMT -5
The sun set over the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the city, though one would not be able to tell with the city lights. Cars horns blared and people shouted from the streets, moving in masses like plagues of locust and cicadas. In fact, their buzz did resemble the noisy insects if one were to listen carefully.
M'asservir was one of many nighttime restaurants with their lights lit up and their doors open. The interior was kept dimly lit and cozy, muffled laughter and conversation drifting about onto the street. It was an elegant place and the staff was finely dressed and waiting with a smile for whomever happened to walk in through the glass doors.
Arien de Cruce was seated at the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand. He licked his lips and took another generous sip of the strong alcohol. His slate grey hair was sleek and brushed, not a hair out of place though it did tickle the back of his neck every time he moved. The bartender gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a shot glass in front of him, "Here, this'll help," he murmured, gesturing to the bruising around Arien's left eye.
"What's in it?" he questioned, picking it up and examining the clear liquid.
"Better not to ask," The bartender turned around and Arien downed the shot. He nearly spat it back out, it was so strong, but he did know what the man meant when he felt a queer sense of numbness in his body. He continued sipping his scotch, "Ah, Caius, why do you have to be such a dick?" he mumbled to himself.
M'asservir was one of many nighttime restaurants with their lights lit up and their doors open. The interior was kept dimly lit and cozy, muffled laughter and conversation drifting about onto the street. It was an elegant place and the staff was finely dressed and waiting with a smile for whomever happened to walk in through the glass doors.
Arien de Cruce was seated at the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand. He licked his lips and took another generous sip of the strong alcohol. His slate grey hair was sleek and brushed, not a hair out of place though it did tickle the back of his neck every time he moved. The bartender gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a shot glass in front of him, "Here, this'll help," he murmured, gesturing to the bruising around Arien's left eye.
"What's in it?" he questioned, picking it up and examining the clear liquid.
"Better not to ask," The bartender turned around and Arien downed the shot. He nearly spat it back out, it was so strong, but he did know what the man meant when he felt a queer sense of numbness in his body. He continued sipping his scotch, "Ah, Caius, why do you have to be such a dick?" he mumbled to himself.
