hughhoncy.

♡  * `  &        ╯   @astramessiah    .

    Glacial orbs move to meet the sleek prosthesis where there should be arm    ;     he can’t help but stare.     Don't judge    ,     Reynolds    !     But Christ    !     It’s only just the tad bit distracting    ,     so much so    ,     that he finds his pale fingers faltering to balance the amber bottle of Hennesy    ,     spilling it’s acidic contents onto the worn counter    ,     ‘fore it reaches the glass.        ❝         Fuck    …    sorry    ,     just a bit on the weary side tonight.     So you uh    ….    ya’ a vet or something    ?      ❞  

              VYNL CRACKLES UNDER his weight; ancient fissures in the barstools sounding their protest as he takes a seat. His right arm meets the chipped veneer countertop with a weighty thud. The sleeve of his leather jacket climbs up to his wrist, revealing the center of bartender’s attention. Black metal inlaid with silver, marking minimally operational joints. 

               The question rankles his suspicion, but the blur of ethanol && neon creates an atmosphere of honesty. He might have been more forthcoming if he was already nursing a drink.

     ❝ Yep. ❞ A bland popping of the p. ❝ What do you have on tap? ❞