@justaprick
the bottle of bulleit sits next to her feet, freshly cracked after months in storage. she'd thought storing anything in her apartment was a mistake, groceries were never a fleeting thought in her mind. but alcohol kept, and now it seemed it was needed— one of the only ways to stop the impatience that pressed against her every day inaction made up the agenda. the cup in her hand is kept cold by night time air, her hands already warmed from the contents.
she supposes its not all for her though, as the guest of honor seems to have finally found his own way back to the fresh air. "you're the last person i expected to see." they haven't been properly introduced, she doesn't need a last name to find a few hours settled. she nudges the bottle with her foot, glass scraping against the roof. "they haven't put you on a lockdown?"
