ISKRA
While it is true that he has not been drinking nearly as much these past few seasons, burying guilt and grief beneath self-improvement and good company, Iskra is not opposed to drinking still. In fact, it's still a grand remedy for tired muscles spent on hauling axes into trees or logs into store rooms. It's the latter that's brought him here today, having worked on the transportation of a shipment of lumber up here. He missed the last sky ship of the night, something about mud and delays, so he's bunking up nearby and he'll head back to Halo in the morning. That leaves him with very few responsibilities for an evening and plenty of aches looking to be dulled.
Goose is curled at his feet, back pressed against the base of the bar as Iskra jockeys a stool and rouses a mug of beer to his lips every so often. Beside him he's got a leather bound journal of paper, and his pencil scratches against it every so often as new thoughts strike him. It's a rather detailed, if disoriented, to-do list. First at the top, is simply, get stronger. From there, an arrow points to the next, presumably, step in this process which just says, FIGHT!
Goose is curled at his feet, back pressed against the base of the bar as Iskra jockeys a stool and rouses a mug of beer to his lips every so often. Beside him he's got a leather bound journal of paper, and his pencil scratches against it every so often as new thoughts strike him. It's a rather detailed, if disoriented, to-do list. First at the top, is simply, get stronger. From there, an arrow points to the next, presumably, step in this process which just says, FIGHT!
Never caught a feelin' this hard — harder than the liquor I pour
