(no subject)

[the_gene_genie]

 
The door opens.

Then 

 

this

 

 

He walks to the bar from the stairs, straight-backed, white-faced. He orders a bottle of good whiskey, and five packets of fags, and turns for a corner booth, one that gives him a clear view of the door. He’s careful not to catch anyone’s eye.

He sits down, lays his things out, pours a drink, lights a smoke. And watches the door, like it’s the only thing that exists. Maybe he’ll get lucky. Maybe whatever’s out there, the faceless, nameless thing that let him be…this – maybe it’ll cut him a break, once in his miserable - ha! - life.

 

[OOC: Not at all plotlocked! Open indefinitely. But please, only people who won’t give him a hard time. And apologies if he’s not the most conversational. :\]