@bootscooted continued from x.
He can't say it's the worst reason to be turned away at a bar, though it doesn't really help the unquenchable thirst that burns in the back of his throat. He's just trying to be good, or as good as drowning your sorrows at the bottom of countless bottles can be. It's better than the usual alternative.
Robbie makes wherever he goes into a lot of money that night. He could drink them dry if he didn't want to draw unwanted attention for it.
The hand on his shoulder draws his attention, the veteran turning, brows lightly lifted. "Maybe I wouldn't mind." The words come out so casually, he sounds tired, worn, not just from a long day or a long week, but a long life.
He's just -- - tired.
"Enchanted?" That was new, but what was surprising when he himself was a normal young man on the outside but a century year old 'superhero' on the inside? Who was he to judge? "Sure. I could really use a drink." Or several.
