@judgmentswake
How strange, that every rustle of black fabric, every strand of red hair --
Wait. In the dim of the bar (he does not visit frequently, not really, not even now), he thinks he catches a glimpse of red. Flickering lamplight outlines the silhouette of broad, commanding shoulders.
In an instant, he approaches, steps decisive. At first, they had avoided each other, but after such an absence, he does not shy away from the older man’s presence.
Or rather, he would not, were he not mistaken about this man’s identity.
But he has already caught the attention of the bartender as well as the stranger (there aren’t many people here). So, he sits down with all the authority of a particularly arrogant youth.
“I’ll have what he’s having.”
The bartender shrugs and sets a glass before the young man. He takes a sip and makes a face.
“This tastes... like water with bubbles added.”
