( @hauntednigts )
"Luther! You'll never guess." Gus plops his ass down on a stool, already seeing the bartender giving a gruff smile and getting the professor's drink started. The human's a regular by now - a familiar kind face who always tips well.
And that kind face is exactly what's beaming as he settles beside Luther, already striking up a conversation with the... friend? Confidante? Hook-up? What does he call Luther? In reality, the former FBI agent doesn't think about it too much. Scarred lips are beaming, dark messy hair brushed behind a messed up ear, covering up more long scratch-like marks that have faded with time, but stay raised, slightly discolored against his tan flesh. And yet Gus sits, rolling up his sleeves. "I finally got through to the English department. They're willing to actually hire an interpreter. Like, pay them and everything. Small victories, right? Oh thanks Chet!" He grabs up the vodka cranberry slid over to him.
