zelman clock » the red-eyed murderer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
exanimatus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2012-06-04 02:34 pm
exanimatus) wrote in paradisalogs2012-06-04 02:34 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Faye & Zelman
What: Girls' night...? 8(
When: Laaate evening.
Where: Out in town.
Rating: PG-13 ish.
It's interesting to see if "we should do this again" ever turns into actually doing it again.
In this case, his casually-but-intentionally placed sliver of attention (his reminder that he still exists, thanks for noticing) has paid off. He's waiting around in that same bar they found the last time, the one that lets you smoke and drink and get away with a lot of both. It's a hazy place, with music muted under the rough voices of its patrons and light just as muted under the wafts of smoke; no match for the lazy air vents, fans just adding to the hum of it all.
Zelman really hates places like this, but he's not going to tell. He's not drinking yet because it's essentially pointless. He's not talking to anyone because he's already categorized and dismissed everyone in the room. He's not thinking about what bars usually remind him of, because he doesn't feel like twisting that particular knife. Instead he's just retreated into his own head, mostly thinking about hows and strands of things he's dropped before. He looks it, too--blank and focused and gazing straight ahead at things that don't exist in the real world.
He'd like a distraction. He hasn't figured out if Faye is an on-time person or a late-to-the-party person yet.
What: Girls' night...? 8(
When: Laaate evening.
Where: Out in town.
Rating: PG-13 ish.
It's interesting to see if "we should do this again" ever turns into actually doing it again.
In this case, his casually-but-intentionally placed sliver of attention (his reminder that he still exists, thanks for noticing) has paid off. He's waiting around in that same bar they found the last time, the one that lets you smoke and drink and get away with a lot of both. It's a hazy place, with music muted under the rough voices of its patrons and light just as muted under the wafts of smoke; no match for the lazy air vents, fans just adding to the hum of it all.
Zelman really hates places like this, but he's not going to tell. He's not drinking yet because it's essentially pointless. He's not talking to anyone because he's already categorized and dismissed everyone in the room. He's not thinking about what bars usually remind him of, because he doesn't feel like twisting that particular knife. Instead he's just retreated into his own head, mostly thinking about hows and strands of things he's dropped before. He looks it, too--blank and focused and gazing straight ahead at things that don't exist in the real world.
He'd like a distraction. He hasn't figured out if Faye is an on-time person or a late-to-the-party person yet.