- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
How you know that this is real?
"Burning something down does sound fun." And it went hand in hand with tempting fate now, didn't it, though there were easier ways to do that. Ways that involved him keeping a tight hold on his smug moral high ground. "I did." Nate throws his glass back, a drop of whatever cheap whiskey he'd grabbed dripping down his chin while he sucks in a deep breath. It doesn't burn enough. "Drank, or fought when I needed it. Both, usually." His hand opens, sending the glass shattering to the ground, the sound not quite as loud as the one the bottle itself makes when Nate throws it against the wall.
A still gaze watches liquor and sparkling shards slide their way down the wall slowly, Nate snorting and turning back to Kiada. "Drink up, darlin', we've got more to go through still." While he speaks, Nate reaches behind him, fingers looking for the specific feel of a specific bottle and sending others toppling to the ground, a flood of broken glass and mixing liquor lapping at the edges of his boots on his side of the bar.
He finds it after a breath, a triumphant sound rumbling in his throat as his fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle and snatch it close. The cork is worked out with his teeth, Nate spitting it to the side and lifting the bottle to his lips to take a long, greedy pull. It's better, but... it still doesn't burn right. Maybe fire is the right answer.
A still gaze watches liquor and sparkling shards slide their way down the wall slowly, Nate snorting and turning back to Kiada. "Drink up, darlin', we've got more to go through still." While he speaks, Nate reaches behind him, fingers looking for the specific feel of a specific bottle and sending others toppling to the ground, a flood of broken glass and mixing liquor lapping at the edges of his boots on his side of the bar.
He finds it after a breath, a triumphant sound rumbling in his throat as his fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle and snatch it close. The cork is worked out with his teeth, Nate spitting it to the side and lifting the bottle to his lips to take a long, greedy pull. It's better, but... it still doesn't burn right. Maybe fire is the right answer.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
You can't tell me how to feel
