𝑉𝐼𝐵𝑅𝛢𝑁𝑇 - B.D.

Him and Tonic

//Lexi//
I begrudgingly leave the seclusion of my booth and wander up to the bar to order my fifth spicy Gin and Tonic within two hours, I'm going to make the most of this night if it kills me. I choose to take a seat on one of the stools at the end of the bar closest to the door and play aimlessly with the chilli pepper that rests on the side of my glass.

Sitting near the bar makes me more approachable I figure -- or makes me seem like I'm willing to get drunk out of my mind, which appeals to the wrong type of man.

Oh well, I'm sat here now.

The bartender, a man clearly younger than myself with his hair slicked back into a tight ponytail walks over to the other end of the bar and, my eyes, lacking stimulation from elsewhere, decide to follow.

There's a man down there. He takes a seat, walking around from somewhere behind the bar -- a back room? Does he work here? -- he looks irritated, he's sat alone too. The bartender hands him a glass of whiskey without communication. He must work here, they are familiar with each other. I can only see the side of him that's facing me, and even then it's only lit up by a small bulb hanging above the bar. From what I can make out, he's hot. His hair looks a shade whiter than mine -- if that's possible, glowing luminescent under the light. It's messy, fluffy as if he'd been running his hands through it subconsciously, yet it's clear some effort has been put into it. His night might just have been rougher than mine. I figure while he pulls it off well there's no way he spent time trying to achieve that look. Though I do love messy hair.

They are talking and I scoot closer to listen, his voice, I like his voice. Gruff, as though he's tired, bored, annoyed -- I enjoy listening to that annoyed tone, it's thick, smooth like syrup. I make out some of their conversation, barely.

"If I'm in my office when Don E. comes back can you tell him I have a girl in there? He wants me to spend the night with someone." He puts emphasis on 'spend the night', clearly not in the mood for what that night would entail.

"A girl? Why?" The bartender's nose scrunches up involuntarily, out of disgust or confusion I can't tell.

"Yes, a girl, why is that the part you see a problem with? Man, I wish I knew, can anyone understand what goes through that kid's mind? Anyway, as long as he thinks I'm "getting some" tonight I can work undisturbed. It's not too hard for you to tell him I'm with someone, right Tanner?" The seated man laughed slightly, but it wasn't a happy laugh it was unhumourous and it wasn't matched with a smile. I can't see but he's probably rolling his eyes, he looks like he rolls his eyes a lot, seemingly unimpressed by everything. I'd like to impress him...I'm choosing to believe that's the Gin talking.

"Sure Boss, " -- so he's the owner? "but why not just get a hooker? It's your club wouldn't it be free?" Tanner pulls a face that suggests he's genuinely confused, which seems to irritate the man further.

"I don't want a hooker, Tanner. I want to work quietly in my office." The boss was clearly agitated at this point, I've never heard someone sigh so much in one conversation before. Though in his defence the bartender didn't seem like the brightest bulb.

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before downing the rest of his whiskey, his third glass, that was quick -- is he trying to catch up to me? He glances up at Tanner, who chooses to walk away from the conversation, probably the right decision.
Walking over to me Tanner gestures to my glass, "Another?" he mumbles, I look down. When did I drink that? Regardless I nod, taking another quick look down the bar. He's looking at me, his eyes seem to linger on my body a little too long for a man who claims he doesn't want sex tonight but I'm not complaining. I've got to the point in the night where any male attention is welcomed, attention from him specifically? That's a bonus. I see his face clearly for the first time, the light above him casting shadows on his skin, making his cheekbones appear more prominent. Those eyes seem colourless, dark, intense, I can't help but wonder what they'd look like in the sunlight. I imagine they're a stunning crystal blue. His skin is dark for a zombie, clearly fake tan, why bother covering up the skin but not the hair? Why bother covering up at all if you own a zombie club? Though it'd be lying if I said he didn't look good. He's wearing a black button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone, which gives me a great view of his neck and collarbones, his jeans are tight, so tight, black and fitted perfectly. God, I'm drunk.

To my displeasure he turns away, back to his drink, I swear I see him sigh. Again. Maybe he's gay? Whatever, if he doesn't want my attention he's not going to get it, I've got another glass in front of me I need to finish and I'd take alcohol over a man any day.

Men are monsters.