howling in the wind

“Excuse me,” he said only after awkwardly bumping into the person. “I’m a little lost.” 

“Limit? Now, don’t be too modest, one more drink?” she questioned, reaching for the empty glass he had slid in her direction.

Josiah chuckled softly, watching the glass. “Alright, but if after this, I’m up on the bar dancing and giving this bar an embarrassing reputation, I won’t be blamed,” he found himself teasing her. He wouldn’t be drunk after this drink, but this was a near-guarantee that he’d be tipsy at best. 

Josiah normally chose a quiet setting to mark notes on chapters he’d written, but tonight, he felt like the silence was suffocating. A bar, while rarely visited by himself, was the perfect scenery. People chattered around him, music played at an acceptable level, and... well, the whiskey was from a fine selection. As he emptied his third glass, and reread one of his paragraphs for the hundredth (at least) time, he was interrupted by the bartender. 

He offered her a smile and lifted his empty glass to turn it in his hand. “I want to say yes, but I think I’m reaching my limit.” 

is that MILO VENTIMIGLIA? nah, that’s just JOSIAH GRAHAM. he is a THIRTY-FOUR year old WEREWOLF and is currently an AUTHOR. they are known for being RESILIENT but also TIMID. Word on the street is they’re HOMOSEXUAL and they run with the NOMADS. They are INDIFFERENT TOWARDS the cure.