this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
Niki doesn't know how he's going to get back to New Haven after this, but it probably isn't on his own two feet. Either way, with a combination of magical signposts and carriages, he arrives at the House of Midnight at the designated hour, expecting nothing and everything all at the same time. Reception has kindly taken his coat, scarf and gloves to hang them up, leading him through the lounge and bar area to the booth in question.
Pretending not to be as distracted as he is by something happening in a neighbouring booth that involves a lot of hands and tongues, he blinks a couple of times as he arrives at the table, Sunjata sitting like a liquor prince with a halo of cigarette smoke hanging about his head. "Hello," he begins in greeting, before catching sight of the eleven (yes, he counted them mentally) glasses set before the Heartless, slate blue eyes widening considerably.
"You realise I said I did not have a high tolerance for alcohol," he drawls, settling himself in the booth opposite. "I fear I will be sleeping here before the afternoon is out."
Pretending not to be as distracted as he is by something happening in a neighbouring booth that involves a lot of hands and tongues, he blinks a couple of times as he arrives at the table, Sunjata sitting like a liquor prince with a halo of cigarette smoke hanging about his head. "Hello," he begins in greeting, before catching sight of the eleven (yes, he counted them mentally) glasses set before the Heartless, slate blue eyes widening considerably.
"You realise I said I did not have a high tolerance for alcohol," he drawls, settling himself in the booth opposite. "I fear I will be sleeping here before the afternoon is out."
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
