[Continued from here | @halfpintscrpent ]
Jughead allowed the din of the Whyte Wyrm fade into background noise, focusing instead on the blank computer screen before him. Writing was getting harder and sleep more unattainable than words. Writer’s block hadn’t been this difficult to overcome before but it didn’t seem it would ever end. He glanced at the bottom corner and spied the time. Nearly four in the morning. He groaned and leaned back away from the bar, the sounds around him trickling back in. Pool balls clacking, chatting, beer bottles slammed on tables. And her. He hadn’t seen her walk in, but there she was now, headed toward the pool tables but passing close enough to him to hear when he spoke to her. “What are you doing out this late?”
