“i may have punched myself in the face while taking off my shirt this morning,” the wolf grumbled out, hoping it was coherent enough for the other to understand what she was on about. safe to say, she wasn’t awake just yet. she still needed to get her coffee, and then another one, and... another one, and then finally go to work. or... maybe she should just take a day off? clearly, she wasn’t feeling her best today, and it was showing, “--- must be my conscious telling me I need to pipe the fuck down. but, i am assuming that we both already know that this is not going to happen. not in this lifetime, at least...” // @maxravennight

the bar is crowded and bustling with activity and for once it isn’t just because everyone is clamoring for a drink. with so many other downworlder hangouts closed until further notice, the hunter’s moon has quickly become a safe haven of sorts — or, at least, it feels that way until a shadowhunter walks through the door. ben’s rolling his eyes the moment he realizes who it is, placing his drink on the counter and crossing his arms. “oh, this should be good.”