@moongeistbeams
   nights like these were the worst.    damon sits under the lights behind the bar counter, absentmindedly drying the same glass heâd been drying for what felt like the past hour, daydreaming about everything heâd rather be doing at the moment. the night had been suspiciously uneventful, with hardly any customers crossing the threshold to drown themselves in alcohol. it felt lonely, in a way.    that is until the sound of bells jingling jerks him out of his trance as someone finally enters the establishment. itâs not hard to recognize the figure that walks up to his counter, but it is strange to have guests so late into the night. he clears his throat and gets up off his seat, placing the now-thoroughly-dried glass in its spot and tossing the towel over his shoulder.    â can i help ya? â
