to who : @cagliostrostart ! where : the modern misfit, an arthouse bar (ref) , selphia ! around 11pm !
alcohol doesn’t suit his system. it’s like molecules, chemical substances that when combined with each other, typically harmless ones, simply create an inhospitable result. it’s a matter of science, in a way. getting drunk after only a few shots and rapidly nosediving into an unraveling, cathartic mess, was a prime example of why he rarely drank more than a single glass. (especially when constantly under the thumb of the dimension witch these days; he put down more laundry baskets and priceless artifacts than booze.) but these things have been known to happen. the cavern of his thoughts was an entangled disaster that not even the brave could trespass and he needed this break tonight to vent. (or else he might implode.)
pupils are blown, hair is slipshod like the state of his heart but there’s a curious smile pinned in place that’s gone empathetic.
he tosses aside a shot glass to instead ready a whole bottle, tilted at an incline to make a toast with the person across from him. not the kind for celebrating. he cheers to them, the moral support kind, as he offers a crisp clink. “just get it all out. what better time to talk about our problems than when we’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow?”
