Tommy Gavin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gavin62truck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2013-03-23 06:39 pm
gavin62truck) wrote in milliways_bar2013-03-23 06:39 pm
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[Immediately following this...]
The front door flies open with a bang.
In all his months of hard-earned sobriety, there was never a time that Tommy wanted, needed a drink more badly than now. No -- this is more than just a want or a need. This is the aching cling of fingertips on a ledge a hundred feet above the ground; the last, desperate gasp before the waves pull you under; the bottled-up scream that finds no outlet because nobody gives a fuck about you anymore.
He thought he'd be stepping into the first shitty dive bar on the Lower East Side he came across, but it looks as if the bar at the end of the universe will have to do.
There's an angry, feral look in his eyes. Blood drips from raw knuckles. The blood could be his, or someone else's, or both.
"Whiskey," he growls.
A glass appears on the countertop.
Tommy brings it to his lips, swallows—
"Fuck."
It's just colored water.
"Give me. A fucking. Whiskey."
Another glass appears.
He takes a sip—
—spits it out, throws the glass against the wall behind the bar.
[OOC: Plot locked to Kate Barlow.]
The front door flies open with a bang.
In all his months of hard-earned sobriety, there was never a time that Tommy wanted, needed a drink more badly than now. No -- this is more than just a want or a need. This is the aching cling of fingertips on a ledge a hundred feet above the ground; the last, desperate gasp before the waves pull you under; the bottled-up scream that finds no outlet because nobody gives a fuck about you anymore.
He thought he'd be stepping into the first shitty dive bar on the Lower East Side he came across, but it looks as if the bar at the end of the universe will have to do.
There's an angry, feral look in his eyes. Blood drips from raw knuckles. The blood could be his, or someone else's, or both.
"Whiskey," he growls.
A glass appears on the countertop.
Tommy brings it to his lips, swallows—
"Fuck."
It's just colored water.
"Give me. A fucking. Whiskey."
Another glass appears.
He takes a sip—
—spits it out, throws the glass against the wall behind the bar.
[OOC: Plot locked to Kate Barlow.]