tony wallace

It had been a relatively slow shift for Bo so far. A steady string of customers, but nothing to the point of busy. It had her mind wondering to odd places, especially as Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand started playing through the speakers on a relatively low volume, for the bar. “Do you ever think about the fact that music is literally just…squiggly lines, floating through the air, and this is what we hear.” She asked, before grabbing a cloth to start drying some glasses. “Or is it just me?” 

Tony was a regular at the bar, even well before tragedy struck him. Something about the atmosphere made him feel a bit closer to humanity, though the astringent smell of booze and intense sweetness of pheromones was enough to drive him wild...and not in a good way. However, he kept coming back, and the bar staff would make him the same old drink he always ordered. It was ready by the time he took his seat.