@curedinsanity
His fingertips grazed the rim of the glass, almost unconsciously before he realized it. He continued the action, quietly letting the tips circle around the glass, his other hand pressed to a fist against his lips. Eyes flicked to the window, falling upon the dark night with the occasional headlight passing by on the street. Not a busy night, then. { mama’s gonna be gone in the mornin, to us, this is my last drink, told her it was a bad idea, he’ll never forgive me, gotta go to the hospital tonight have to see if, everything is ruined should have stayed that night, missed you, how are we gonna afford, come back to, loved him so muc--- } He thought to himself. Or, rather, he allowed others to think for him. There was a gentleman two booths in back of him, on a third beer and feeling the mortality of humanity; his mother was dying. Of what? Joseph didn’t feel like finding out. A woman at a table by the door nursed a whiskey, understanding, probably for the first time, the consequences of betrayal. And the other---Joseph didn’t know how to pin her down; there was an ominous feeling about her, something akin to a hornet’s nest, lying in wait for him to kick at. It pricked at his mind and curiosity nearly had him prodding. The male left, waiting outside for a cab, presumably to see his dying mother. And the young woman departed a good ten minutes later, along with the only semblance of normalcy Joseph could distract himself with. And he was left with the dark haired mystery, not too far away. His eyes flicked over her form, his fingers stopping their little circles around the glass rim and studying her. Dark whispers of something hellish floated around her. Joseph was reminded of a job a few years ago, a possession of sorts; a tough one for Joseph. He set his jaw, rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip. He should leave, get Alec to drink with him (but he’d want to talk and Joseph, well, he wasn’t in the mood). He could focus on the bartender, though he had gone to the back a bit ago and, if Joseph were to be honest, the bartender’s thoughts were dull tonight. Curiosity took hold and his eyes fell upon her once again. “A lot on your mind?” he prompted before he had the chance to rethink the idea of interaction. Too late now, he supposed. He kept his gaze on her, softening his features just slightly, though he was sure it didn’t help the obvious question written on his face.
