on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
Why shouldn’t he miss it? Why shouldn’t he miss his room in the back, relatively small but full of a variety of clothes and jewelry and books on architecture, different colognes to wear depending on the occasion. Today, as he clears his throat from the roughness of the coughing fit he’d had, he’s chosen to wear a sandalwood mixture, deep and dark and alluring, even if he had no one to indulge in it.
The water is refilled and as it’s pushed toward him, he watches the water slip over the edge. Still, Thorn reaches for it, fingers taking the glass and dragging a line of water as he pulls it closer. He doesn’t sip from it yet, instead choosing to return to the line of liquid, running his jeweled fingers through it.
He’s contemplative and quiet as Casimir speaks the most he has in what felt like ever, relishing in the rich baritone of the bartender’s voice, however disheartening the words might be. He chews on his lower lip, his bright seafoam gaze dancing between the glass of water and the man on the other side of the bar. “Yeah? Like what?” He asks, voice shifting a touch deadpan and quieter. “Shouldn’t it all be about fun? Or.. enjoying yourself?” He doesn’t seem to be enjoying anything right now, but still the courtesan tries to understand. “Don’t you go out and have fun when yer not here?” He pauses, brows lifting as if a dawning realization has occurred. “You do leave sometimes, don’t ya?”
It’s a barrage of questions for the man that hardly spoke, but Thorn can’t help but to try and understand a little more. The man that watched behind the counter silently and stoically like nothing bothered him certainly has a rife life outside of here, doesn’t he? Though, the more Thorn thinks about it, the more he realizes he hasn’t heard a single thing about what Casimir did unless it was here. Hell, he can’t even recall hearing any gossip about him apart from him doing his job.
The water is refilled and as it’s pushed toward him, he watches the water slip over the edge. Still, Thorn reaches for it, fingers taking the glass and dragging a line of water as he pulls it closer. He doesn’t sip from it yet, instead choosing to return to the line of liquid, running his jeweled fingers through it.
He’s contemplative and quiet as Casimir speaks the most he has in what felt like ever, relishing in the rich baritone of the bartender’s voice, however disheartening the words might be. He chews on his lower lip, his bright seafoam gaze dancing between the glass of water and the man on the other side of the bar. “Yeah? Like what?” He asks, voice shifting a touch deadpan and quieter. “Shouldn’t it all be about fun? Or.. enjoying yourself?” He doesn’t seem to be enjoying anything right now, but still the courtesan tries to understand. “Don’t you go out and have fun when yer not here?” He pauses, brows lifting as if a dawning realization has occurred. “You do leave sometimes, don’t ya?”
It’s a barrage of questions for the man that hardly spoke, but Thorn can’t help but to try and understand a little more. The man that watched behind the counter silently and stoically like nothing bothered him certainly has a rife life outside of here, doesn’t he? Though, the more Thorn thinks about it, the more he realizes he hasn’t heard a single thing about what Casimir did unless it was here. Hell, he can’t even recall hearing any gossip about him apart from him doing his job.
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
