[insert clever title here] (Shiloh/Onyx)
Jun 6, 2016 6:27:11 GMT -5
Post by Shiloh on Jun 6, 2016 6:27:11 GMT -5
Gage Aspen
Gage is alone in a bar. The place isn't one of her regular haunts, but she's been here before and she’s acquainted with the bartender. The room is dimly lit. Weak yellowish lights line the ceiling; they flicker incessantly but do little to illuminate anything outside of their immediate vicinity. Dying sunlight is filtered through frayed blinds, and the air, thick with smoke and dust, is uncomfortably warm.
Gage collapses on a stool, choosing a spot in the far corner by the wall. Ensconced in shadow, she feels virtually invisible. She heaves a sigh and leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter and resting her head in the crook of her arm.
"Sweetie, you’re back. Haven’t been around in a while, eh?"
She groans inwardly at the sound of the bartender’s voice. He likes her, and he isn’t subtle about it. He’s the main reason why she seldom frequents this particular bar; he is shamelessly persistent, and frankly, he tries her patience.
She tries to ignore him.
“Mm, long day, sweetie?” He bites his lip and furrows his brow, his expression agonizingly, patronizingly concerned.
Gage lifts her head to scowl at him.
“Aw. Mhmm,” he says again, nodding. “Don’t sweat it, sweetie. I’m sure things will --”
“Ugh, shut up.”
He looks surprised. “Well, can I get you a drink? On the house.”
Gage fixes him with the most menacing glower she can muster. “I don't want a drink,” she says through gritted teeth. “And I am not in the mood for flirting with you.”
He shrugs a little and narrows his eyes. “Hard to get, huh? Aight. If that’s how you wanna play.”
He’s gone again, and Gage rolls her eyes. “God, I hate this place,” she murmurs to herself, glancing across the room and surveying its other occupants with undisguised contempt. The population comprises drunkards, prostitutes, and scruffy, drunken bums who have nowhere else to loiter. Gage is familiar with most of them. And she hates all of them.
The place, known only to a few, is frequented by generally shady characters. It’s become a speakeasy, little known to outsiders, a sanctuary from the law. Gage only knows about it through her father, who used to come here often. She also used to hang around here quite a lot, when she had nothing better to do. Outsiders did occasionally stumble across the hangout, but they were regarded by the regular company with wariness and hostility.
Obviously, Gage would greatly prefer to be alone in her favorite haunt, deep in the woods. But the day has left her too exhausted to even consider taking the trek.
She extracts a lighter from her pocket, and soon she’s dragging on a roll of tobacco. She holds the smoke for several seconds before exhaling slowly through her nostrils. No one gives a shit if you smoke in here, and no one cares how old you are, either. Gage is about to take another hit when a sound catches her attention; she glances over her shoulder as the door of the bar swings open. Someone enters - a new face, one that she doesn’t recall having seen in the bar before. She narrows her eyes, openly scrutinizing the newcomer.table by onyx
