Meg (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meatsack) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2015-07-23 10:44 pm
meatsack) wrote in entrancelogs2015-07-23 10:44 pm
Entry tags:
[closed] heaven help me for the way I am
Who:a Meg & Dean
Where: The darkest booth in the furthest corner of the bar.
When: Friday
Rating: R to be safe for their mouths and discussion of sex and violence
Summary: Just. Talking. About things. Things that... happened. Really, nothing to see here.
The Story: Meg hits the bar on Friday night for something to do, just like everyone else. There's a few familiar faces around, but she doesn't join anyone. Not yet. No, she's just there to drink. And watch. She liked to keep up on the gossip, if there was any. It was tiresome, always hitting up the same joint, but that was the hand they'd all been dealt here. She'd still take one measly bar over death, so here she is. Chasing whiskey with beer, and so on and so forth. Catching odd looks for a girl her size drinking as much as she was.
She's almost sure she's finally coming up on a hint of a buzz when she looks up at the wrong moment and catches a familiar eye. Meg wouldn't be particularly happy to see Dean on their best day, but after all that had happened she was even less thrilled than usual. She makes a pointed effort to look straight through him, chuckling to herself, shaking her head at the rotten luck - she'd been doing a pretty bang-up job at avoiding him thus far, only to fuck it up now. She stays where she is long enough to get another shot and another beer, then casually disappears behind a group of strangers to duck into a booth near the back. If his penchant for avoidance was still what it used to be, they wouldn't have a problem.
Where: The darkest booth in the furthest corner of the bar.
When: Friday
Rating: R to be safe for their mouths and discussion of sex and violence
Summary: Just. Talking. About things. Things that... happened. Really, nothing to see here.
The Story: Meg hits the bar on Friday night for something to do, just like everyone else. There's a few familiar faces around, but she doesn't join anyone. Not yet. No, she's just there to drink. And watch. She liked to keep up on the gossip, if there was any. It was tiresome, always hitting up the same joint, but that was the hand they'd all been dealt here. She'd still take one measly bar over death, so here she is. Chasing whiskey with beer, and so on and so forth. Catching odd looks for a girl her size drinking as much as she was.
She's almost sure she's finally coming up on a hint of a buzz when she looks up at the wrong moment and catches a familiar eye. Meg wouldn't be particularly happy to see Dean on their best day, but after all that had happened she was even less thrilled than usual. She makes a pointed effort to look straight through him, chuckling to herself, shaking her head at the rotten luck - she'd been doing a pretty bang-up job at avoiding him thus far, only to fuck it up now. She stays where she is long enough to get another shot and another beer, then casually disappears behind a group of strangers to duck into a booth near the back. If his penchant for avoidance was still what it used to be, they wouldn't have a problem.