#coffeebleeds

"... Nights at the chateau Trapped in your sunset bungalow You couldn't escape it

Drink of paradise They told you 'Put your blood on ice' You're not gonna make it..."

He's fairly sure he's alone as he sings to himself, leaning on the railing of his balcony, overlooking the glow of Las Vegas, the sun hidden behind the horizon while its dying light left the sky a fading orange surrendering into blue.

He doubts his visitor can hear him... though he wouldn't care if he's wrong.

"Every face along the boulevard Is a dreamer just like you You looked at death in a tarot card And you saw what you had to do..."

“I have doubts, but I will be bringing appropriate anti-air defenses with me. It will be a very fun time.”

There was a real pout at that answer. With a huff, he took another swig of his rum and coke, sipping be damned.

“Even though I still very much fear fer my life every wakin’ moment?” Theatrical and whiny, he put the lighter on Alfred’s stomach.

Ludwig's hunting cabin was less a cabin and more a vague collection of four walls and a roof, with a sheet hanging loosely in one corner to create a semblance of a separate room. The porch outside was similarly a vague collection of planks with just enough room for one man and his dogs - or in this case, his brother-in-law - to sit and watch the rain fall.

The stove inside was burning, keeping the water warm for instant coffee or tea or whatever they wanted to drink and Ludwig sipped at his cup as he watched the mists swirl with the wind and rain.