I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Picking idly through the thoughts and memories that danced through Sunjata's head, Jack packed away anything important for later reflection in an act that was so passive now it was almost chilling. Or it would have been, if anyone had known what he was up to. "I've heard that things are not so peaceful in other places," he said as they reached the Hanged Man, shouldering through the door; it was busy enough, but not yet late enough to be raucous.
"Me? Anythin' cold," he remarked about his drinking habits. "Whiskey, rum and beer are the most common to find behind this bar. What about you?" He was already ordering two whiskeys in his head, but it was polite to let Sunjata finish.
"Me? Anythin' cold," he remarked about his drinking habits. "Whiskey, rum and beer are the most common to find behind this bar. What about you?" He was already ordering two whiskeys in his head, but it was polite to let Sunjata finish.
