on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
It means exactly how Thorn had meant it. And as he stands on the other side of the bar, languid grace and sinful smiles, he’s happy to be appraised by the bartender on the other side of the bar – the space the courtesan typically occupies. He waits to hear what he might be able to get him, and when there’s no verbal answer, Thorn thinks he’s getting a pretty good idea of what Casimir doesn’t say.
His head tilts to the left, the shoulder lifts, his eyes remain glued to his and were it not for Thorn’s unique ability to not be flustered quickly, he’s sure his body might have lit up with those fireworks again to see him look at him like this. It isn’t anything special, but the eye contact was enough to keep that warm flush to his cheeks and his ears, because Thorn was used to being looked at but not so much being seen.
“Ah, the special. Comin’ right up.” He straightens up from the bar and shoots Casimir a wink, pushing back from the edge of the bar to shrug out of Cas’ coat and hang it on the coat rack, putting his leather jacket up on the next hook beside it, before he’s pushing up his sheer sleeves to keep them out of the way and shakes out his shoulders a bit.
It’s his best attempt at trying to be Cas’ with the steel rod in his spine, the posture that’s both commanding and controlling, and as he grabs the glass and turns back to set it on the bar, he has an almost kind of passive look on his face while he creates the drink. Now, it’s evident that he’s watched Casimir quite a bit, with how he takes the mixing glass and the whiskey and combines it with a syrup and a couple different bitters to give it a fruity twist, mixing it up with a long bar spoon.
He pours it into the glass with a single ice block to keep it cold and slides it across the bar to Casimir as he leans back with the copper barspoon still in his hands, nearly dripping with the leftover liquor that he promptly lifts to run his tongue along for a taste, silent like it was Casimir’s specialty.
His head tilts to the left, the shoulder lifts, his eyes remain glued to his and were it not for Thorn’s unique ability to not be flustered quickly, he’s sure his body might have lit up with those fireworks again to see him look at him like this. It isn’t anything special, but the eye contact was enough to keep that warm flush to his cheeks and his ears, because Thorn was used to being looked at but not so much being seen.
“Ah, the special. Comin’ right up.” He straightens up from the bar and shoots Casimir a wink, pushing back from the edge of the bar to shrug out of Cas’ coat and hang it on the coat rack, putting his leather jacket up on the next hook beside it, before he’s pushing up his sheer sleeves to keep them out of the way and shakes out his shoulders a bit.
It’s his best attempt at trying to be Cas’ with the steel rod in his spine, the posture that’s both commanding and controlling, and as he grabs the glass and turns back to set it on the bar, he has an almost kind of passive look on his face while he creates the drink. Now, it’s evident that he’s watched Casimir quite a bit, with how he takes the mixing glass and the whiskey and combines it with a syrup and a couple different bitters to give it a fruity twist, mixing it up with a long bar spoon.
He pours it into the glass with a single ice block to keep it cold and slides it across the bar to Casimir as he leans back with the copper barspoon still in his hands, nearly dripping with the leftover liquor that he promptly lifts to run his tongue along for a taste, silent like it was Casimir’s specialty.
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
