Post by Cordelia Sloane on May 18, 2008 11:39:39 GMT -5
The temperature inside the bar was colder than the muggy spring temperature outside. The atmosphere was even crisper than the weather. No miserable soul in this bar came here for a social call or to drink with buddies. If unsavory artifacts were not being hastily exchanged in hushed whispers, or questionable favors being given under the tables, then a person came here to be alone. To drink away their miseries, forget the day, or just to forget themselves
The rusted bell over the door gave a strangled cry as a new customer entered the bar. Her boots roughly announced her presence before she could be named by sight. Even though her hood was up, securing her face against the slight drizzle, there was no mistaking the woman that had just entered the bar. Everything about her was clean, well scrubbed. She might give off the impression of being too well bred to be in such surroundings, but the truth was she was just like everyone else in the bar. A liar. So, coming to a grimy and disgusting pub, alone, with the lowest scoundrels on earth to surround her as she got wasted, was nothing out of her own ordinary.
Sauntering up to the bar, she let the door bang shut behind her; all the while well aware of the sets of eyes on her. She did not belong in this surrounding from an appearance point of view, but appearances are almost always deceiving. Her nails rapped against the wood of the counter impatiently until the bar tender finally came over to grace her with his presence. Cordelia looked down on him through heavily lidded eyes, before her line of vision traced to the dirty glass in his hand.
”Red wine, and don’t bring a glass.”
The bartender turned to fill her order, and Cordelia took out her own glass from within the folds of her jacket. With an almost bored wave she wiped any dust that might have come to rest on her glass, she had always been rather sanitary. As the barkeep held out the bottle to her, she snatched it from his hand and picked up her glass. Turning, Sloane looked over the bar for a place to sit where she could reside in peace and get trashed out of her mind without being interrupted.
Strutting across the bar, she took off her jacket and threw it across the table in the back, directly in front of a rather mal-cleaned window. Sitting down the wine and glass, she sat down before pouring herself a tall measure. Sloane left the cork off of the bottle and drained her glass in one gulp. She had never been a proper sipper, like most women. In fact, she was the exact type of daughter that made her mother want to strangle her out of existence. But, her mother could never catch her daughter. With homework and essays graded and two men dead in a two week radius, Cordelia found herself sitting at home bored beyond measure. She also found herself getting wasted more so than usual, and waking up in a different bed nearly every morning. Her life was becoming frivolous, and she didn't like much like it. She was given a substantial amount of time to herself now, more time to carry out her grizzly deeds. The greatest feeling in the world was waking up and knowing that she only had to worry about herself that day. By day, she played the part of a stiff Chemistry professor, and by night she got up to things that would make her dearly departed mother shriek, and every spare moment in between she was trailing potential victims.
Pouring the bottle again, she filled her glass to the brim and picked it up. Lightly, she sipped, before downing half of the red liquid and staring out the window to her right. With any luck she would find some sort of entertainment for the night. If not, then she had as much alcohol as her bank account would allow her to buy to keep her company.
The rusted bell over the door gave a strangled cry as a new customer entered the bar. Her boots roughly announced her presence before she could be named by sight. Even though her hood was up, securing her face against the slight drizzle, there was no mistaking the woman that had just entered the bar. Everything about her was clean, well scrubbed. She might give off the impression of being too well bred to be in such surroundings, but the truth was she was just like everyone else in the bar. A liar. So, coming to a grimy and disgusting pub, alone, with the lowest scoundrels on earth to surround her as she got wasted, was nothing out of her own ordinary.
Sauntering up to the bar, she let the door bang shut behind her; all the while well aware of the sets of eyes on her. She did not belong in this surrounding from an appearance point of view, but appearances are almost always deceiving. Her nails rapped against the wood of the counter impatiently until the bar tender finally came over to grace her with his presence. Cordelia looked down on him through heavily lidded eyes, before her line of vision traced to the dirty glass in his hand.
”Red wine, and don’t bring a glass.”
The bartender turned to fill her order, and Cordelia took out her own glass from within the folds of her jacket. With an almost bored wave she wiped any dust that might have come to rest on her glass, she had always been rather sanitary. As the barkeep held out the bottle to her, she snatched it from his hand and picked up her glass. Turning, Sloane looked over the bar for a place to sit where she could reside in peace and get trashed out of her mind without being interrupted.
Strutting across the bar, she took off her jacket and threw it across the table in the back, directly in front of a rather mal-cleaned window. Sitting down the wine and glass, she sat down before pouring herself a tall measure. Sloane left the cork off of the bottle and drained her glass in one gulp. She had never been a proper sipper, like most women. In fact, she was the exact type of daughter that made her mother want to strangle her out of existence. But, her mother could never catch her daughter. With homework and essays graded and two men dead in a two week radius, Cordelia found herself sitting at home bored beyond measure. She also found herself getting wasted more so than usual, and waking up in a different bed nearly every morning. Her life was becoming frivolous, and she didn't like much like it. She was given a substantial amount of time to herself now, more time to carry out her grizzly deeds. The greatest feeling in the world was waking up and knowing that she only had to worry about herself that day. By day, she played the part of a stiff Chemistry professor, and by night she got up to things that would make her dearly departed mother shriek, and every spare moment in between she was trailing potential victims.
Pouring the bottle again, she filled her glass to the brim and picked it up. Lightly, she sipped, before downing half of the red liquid and staring out the window to her right. With any luck she would find some sort of entertainment for the night. If not, then she had as much alcohol as her bank account would allow her to buy to keep her company.
