Bluest Blue

In the middle of the night
Did you think I'd be alone

Matéo hasn't paid much attention to anything but the glasses set in front of him for the past few hours that he'd been there. There was no need to if everything he needed was right in front of him. A bite and a burn down the back of the throat that leaves him hoarse the next morning. A reminder of what he has lost in an effort to forget, even if it culminates in his own slow self-destruction.

He almost doesn't look up when he hears someone speaking next to him but then that voice is offering to pay for his drink and if the weightlessness in his pocket is any indicator, well, he can't very well say no. He looks over to see a younger man, he thinks, it's a little blurry. With a glass of wine? Ooookay.

But there's something about him that seems familiar and the bartender has already set a glass in front of him. Matéo waves a hand dismissively in the general direction of the stool that the man is already sitting on. Details. Whatever.

"Can't refuse that offer." He clears his throat in an attempt to sound a bit more put together than his attire and lack of a sharp razor would suggest. "You live 'round here? Look familiar." Conversation isn't necessary when he has a drink in hand, but perhaps because he does, he pries further than normally inclined.

Waiting patiently for you
to come home