[ He shouldn't. Philip really, really shouldn't. The whiskey swirls lazily in its glass before he takes a sip, and cigarette smoke curls above him in the dark, in his usual dark corner, almost too dark to make out the words he is trying to read. And that ought to be enough, silent to himself, and he really
really should not-- ]
Is that a fashion choice, or did you just forget to wipe somebody's remains off your face?
[ But he does, in the way of greeting what looks like a recent arrival, because what other form of socialising could possibly come easy, if not the one angling for lacerations of his own. ]
bar because where else
really should not-- ]
Is that a fashion choice, or did you just forget to wipe somebody's remains off your face?
[ But he does, in the way of greeting what looks like a recent arrival, because what other form of socialising could possibly come easy, if not the one angling for lacerations of his own. ]