What if I told you I'm a

And he had to fight to ignore the slice of him that scratched to take advantage of her current state.

“Yeah, they’ve got food,” he acknowledged, nodding towards the menu at one end of the bar. His lips twitched, reluctantly amused, when she sat back down on the seat she’d tried to fall off of seconds before. “Southern comfort food.”

Once the bartender walked away, Grace turned. "You're more than welcome to sit if you'd like? I don't bite. Unless you don't like the smell of paint and new ikea furniture- then I may not be your cup of tea."

Maia didn't have to work that day but she found herself at the bar anyways. She didn't have much other things to do, Cricket was back at work and Maia didn't want to bother her friends so why not just bother her friends at her work? Though surprisingly it was fairly busy and Maia didn't want to make much of a scene so she hung back once she got her drink.

She watched as someone faltered slightly and she was quick to offer support if needed. "Oh yeah they definitely do. I never let them pour my shit unless it's my night off. You okay though?"

“Woah!” He reached out as if to catch her, aborting the motion when she steadied herself on her own. Nathan chuckled and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Who was she? “That they do! But no thanks, I was just heading out.” His arms still hadn’t dropped back to his sides, Nathan still unsure if she’d be steady on her feet once she got moving. “Are you going to be okay?”

Here she was again, becoming something of a regular these days. There were nights she didn't even drink now. Just sat and watched people and went home to her empty apartment. She preferred the solitude but being alone was feeling worse. The voices in her head were getting louder. Eventually she was going to have to do something she just didn't want to do. Best to put it off as long as possible.

More often than not she watched people stumble into one another or out the door. Hopefully not to make any more dumb decisions. But tonight there was a new face. "Got my own," Chuck looked down at the stool and back up at the woman with her eyes narrowed but a smile none-the-less, "You sure it was the bartender and not your tolerance? Usually makes them pretty weak for me."

As he approached, his timing couldn’t have been better—a woman nearby started to stumble. Asher, quick on his feet, wiggled his fingers subtly, letting the music guide his magic to help her regain her balance.

“She might,” he chuckled, nodding toward the barstool. “Maybe you should sit down and have some water? Wouldn't want you to stumble your way out of here."

Settling back into her seat, with a grin. She knew magic when she saw it, and she'd be lying if she didn't appreciate his quick thinking. "No you're so right. Water will definitely help the walk home."

Warren still didn’t feel comfortable socializing with too many people, his instincts still a little too sharp and geared towards the fight. Distrust – of himself and others – rode too close to the surface for him to find it easy to interact with strangers, especially the innocent ones. And yet, he didn’t want to keep a lot of alcohol at his place either. Time in the pit or not, he still had too much humanity, and he refused to risk getting wasted by having nothing to do but drink alone.

So when he wanted something harder than soda, he’d pick one of the bars and have a couple of drinks before going home. Tonight it ended up being the Jukebox Junction.

Country . . . a little too like home, but it’d do.

"Do they have food here? Maybe it'd be a good idea for me to grab a bite." Grace sat back down on the stool. "I'll treat if you want to join me? Since you stopped."