Post by alcazar on Jun 6, 2011 21:59:45 GMT -5
She felt well normal. Normal like Balthazar was going to walk in that door she was going to yell at him that they were closing and he needed to get out because he knew that last call was over it but still would pour him one large glass of the finest whiskey. On the house of course. But that was over with. Those days were gone and as her day droned on Alcazar realized it more and more.
The other thing she noticed as her day droned on was that she really didn't want to be there. It was too soon. She had ran into Sam Winchester and that had gone swimmingly well. So well she didn't remember most of it because she had been so drunk that she barely remembered it. For the angel it was terrible. Now she was in a bad mood over the fact that she had drunks hitting on her and she couldn't well..hit them back. By midnight her co-workers had realized that she needed an extra long break and Alcazar had collected his coat and had gone outside, flown the coop, and cried in a very familiar and dark mansion for a long time. After that she had collected a few of his other items, for an angel of well interesting habits Balthazar had some toys that Alcazar had treasured, and quickly took them back to her apartment where she stashed them in a special chest labeled strictly for his stuff. Then it was back to the bar for the rest of the boring shitty shift. The only enjoyment she had was when she did finally get to slug some one for pinching her butt.
Now it was closing time. For once Alcazar was thankful for that. Pouring a shot of the fine whiskey, old habits died hard, she quickly downed it and felt it burn all the way down to her stomach. For a moment it burned away the pain and the fact she was there alone. She enjoyed it so much that she quickly poured another shot and down that one before capping the whiskey, Alcazar didn't want to repeat the previous encounter, and returned it to the shelf as a bar stool scooted away from the bar. “We're closing but because I'm in such a good mood,” Her tone said otherwise, “you can have one drink.” Something told the angel it wasn't a smart idea. Still she wasn't the angel of smart ideas. If she had been she would have smacked Balthazar over the head with an anvil and encircled him with holy fire until the feeling to help the Saint Winchesters had passed.
Turning to face the newcomer, her forced smile crossed her lips as she leaned against the bar and she played with the shot glass she had drank from. “Name your poison.”
The other thing she noticed as her day droned on was that she really didn't want to be there. It was too soon. She had ran into Sam Winchester and that had gone swimmingly well. So well she didn't remember most of it because she had been so drunk that she barely remembered it. For the angel it was terrible. Now she was in a bad mood over the fact that she had drunks hitting on her and she couldn't well..hit them back. By midnight her co-workers had realized that she needed an extra long break and Alcazar had collected his coat and had gone outside, flown the coop, and cried in a very familiar and dark mansion for a long time. After that she had collected a few of his other items, for an angel of well interesting habits Balthazar had some toys that Alcazar had treasured, and quickly took them back to her apartment where she stashed them in a special chest labeled strictly for his stuff. Then it was back to the bar for the rest of the boring shitty shift. The only enjoyment she had was when she did finally get to slug some one for pinching her butt.
Now it was closing time. For once Alcazar was thankful for that. Pouring a shot of the fine whiskey, old habits died hard, she quickly downed it and felt it burn all the way down to her stomach. For a moment it burned away the pain and the fact she was there alone. She enjoyed it so much that she quickly poured another shot and down that one before capping the whiskey, Alcazar didn't want to repeat the previous encounter, and returned it to the shelf as a bar stool scooted away from the bar. “We're closing but because I'm in such a good mood,” Her tone said otherwise, “you can have one drink.” Something told the angel it wasn't a smart idea. Still she wasn't the angel of smart ideas. If she had been she would have smacked Balthazar over the head with an anvil and encircled him with holy fire until the feeling to help the Saint Winchesters had passed.
Turning to face the newcomer, her forced smile crossed her lips as she leaned against the bar and she played with the shot glass she had drank from. “Name your poison.”