#peter.dev

Pick a line from your favorite book/movie/poem/show/song. This line is now the first line of your story.

Line chosen from: Rifftrax Twilight commentary

“Is she supposed to look... sexy? Or like she’s wearing a rabbit’s dentures?” Peter couldn’t help it when he barked out a laugh at his barman’s quietly posed question, eyes following where the younger man was looking to spot a woman on the other side of the bar. The woman was decked out to the nines, sparkly red dress, perfectly painted lips, but Peter could see where Davis was coming from with the question, the way her lips parted slightly, showing off her teeth in an extremely unflattering way as she put on what Peter could only imagine was her best coy expression. Perhaps Peter wasn’t the best judge of these things, being less than interested in women as it was, but he couldn’t help but think that it was less attracting men and more warding them off.

The fact that the woman was sitting alone at the end of the bar was indication enough of that.

“Send her a drink, on the house.” Peter replied quietly, a pang of sympathy for another lonely soul overriding his desire to sit and shit talk patrons with his favorite employee. Davis didn’t offer much in the way of reply besides a slightly lifted eyebrow and a shrug before wandering off to mix rabbit lady up something tasty. Perhaps it was his bleeding heart, that thing that daddy had always tried to help him harden, that had caused that sudden feeling to wash over him watching the woman. Perhaps he simply understood what it felt like to sit alone at the end of a bar and drink alone, waiting for someone to sit and offer to share one with him. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, any more than Peter was an unattractive man, but in that moment, they shared that deep seeded feeling of melancholy that came with another night of drinking alone.

He didn’t have long to sit and stew in the bitter feeling, however, as the door opened behind him with a loud bang, and his eyebrow lifted slightly as he twisted to see what the commotion was.  People tended to know better than to drag their dramatics into his bar. They knew to keep it outside, in the back alley. Recognition hit him, however, and he met eyes with the two men dragging a third, stumbling and struggling one between them. His eyes cut immediately to the door to the left, the hallway leading back to his office, before turning his attention back to Davis, to the patrons, who all seemed to be confused and annoyed by the interruption of their calm night of drinking. Clearing his throat, Peter stood from his usual stool. “Well.” Clapping his hands together, he watched as eyes drew to him, likely expecting some kind of explanation. Instead, he simply said, “Davis, a round for everyone on the house.” as cheerfully as possible before leaving the bar and disappearing behind the door after the men.