open starter || event || eli
it’s loud, it’s cold, and eli is dressed in an outfit that he can only describe as humiliatingly famliar. the typically clean-shaven chief of police is sporting a few days of strategic stubble and cargo shorts. though--- the latter isn’t entirely foreign for those few and far between days off spent anywhere other than the vasile manor. the smell of pot in the air is only masked by the mixed odors of shitty food and port-o-potties splayed inconveniently across the jay pritzker pavilion. even eli’s stomach, forged by the fires of weeks in the desert without a shower, begins to churn slightly.
with a gentle adjustment of the baseball cap sat tight on a head of hair that’s gone far longer than the typically regimented two weeks without a trim, eli sucks in a breath--- shuddering slightly at the bracing air.
act natural.
“So where’s a guy gotta go to get a beer around here?”
