The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
Weaver takes the cigarette back, taking another drag. Smokes fills the area around them, heady and pleasant. She hands it back, taking her glass up and draining the remains of her first drink. She makes another, sticking to the cider concoction she’d started out with. It was quickly becoming a favorite of hers, and though she was sure to get sick of it eventually, she’s not there yet. Besides, one of them needed to be at least vaguely functional, probably.
She turns back around, leaning across the bar with her elbows propping her up, drink cupped between her hands. She rolls it around slightly. ”Please,” she says at his offer. He is quickly becoming her supplier for all things delicious and illicit. ”They are such a rarity here, it is sort of like finding gold.” Weaver takes another sip of her drink, before resting it again between her hands. ”Tell me about Lusea?” she asks, half a question, half a statement.
She turns back around, leaning across the bar with her elbows propping her up, drink cupped between her hands. She rolls it around slightly. ”Please,” she says at his offer. He is quickly becoming her supplier for all things delicious and illicit. ”They are such a rarity here, it is sort of like finding gold.” Weaver takes another sip of her drink, before resting it again between her hands. ”Tell me about Lusea?” she asks, half a question, half a statement.
Weaver
