Black Eyes Blue Tears

Just fill the glass again

- OPEN -

It was a battle that he fought every day at work, every night when he was overwhelmed but he fought it none the less. He didn't give in, even when he wanted to. Nights where he had freedom, nights like this when work flowed into his free time. He had met a client, a fighter at the Bacchae and now he decided that having a drink wouldn't be a bad thing. That he could enjoy himself and nothing would be wrong with a scotch. Three glasses later he was sitting on the stool, and his feet hadn't yet hit the ground, a smirk on his face. 

He had gotten the best of Isolde when they had faced each other, and though his methods had been (admittedly) a little underhanded, he had still won by using her own information against her. She hadn't seen it coming and while it had made the victory even more glorious, he couldn't help but get her out of his mind. The leggy woman had already been driving him mad, but this was something else. 

He set the empty glass on the counter and sighed as he looked out over the sea of people. He was honestly shocked that he hadn't had to drag Alfie out of the hell hole, but the hellmouth didn't seem to the man's home any more. Arianna seemed to have pulled Alfie's head out of his ass, and it was pretty cute how they were together, but it made him hate Alfie a little. That had been their thing, their schtick. They were two single men. Alfie was the party boy and Hank was the one who kept him out of trouble before going home to be thankful for his kids. Now it seemed like he was just working and going home. Tara and Parker of course made things worth it, holding his son as he fell asleep made it all better on the hard days but he just wanted something. He couldn't name it ever really, but the regrets that he had about Isolde told him that it probably had something to do with her. 

"Another?" He looked at the bartender and nodded before paying him. A voice near by pulled him from his thoughts and he smirked before looking over at them. "Come again?" He asked, not having fully understood them. 

416 words

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black eyes
blue tears

❧

Cas liked the idea of a fight club. There were nights when he considered approaching the owner and asking if he could throw his hat into the ring — after all, he had wrestled wrymlings and small dragons down to the ground in his heyday — but Cas somehow imagined that his wife wouldn’t be very pleased if the next time he saw her, he was covered in cuts and bruises all of his face. They’d never quite agreed about the way that he chose to study dragons. Cas liked an up-close-and-personal approach. He liked to get his hands dirty and wrestle with creatures that could potentially kill him. Saorise, on the other hand, thought that he was an idiot for putting himself in so much danger. In fact, she wasn’t wrong. There had been too many close calls to count over the years. But for some reason, he just kept at it.

His students seemed to enjoy the new approach to teaching. After all, too much of school was theoretical, in Cas’ opinion. They needed something to grab their mind and make them remember. How better to do it than to bring them all to a Sanctuary in Africa and let them see hands on what a dragon could do. Of course, other professors thought that he was insane, but Cas didn’t let it bother him. In fact, he rarely let other peoples’ opinions of himself bother him.

Tonight, they weren’t fighting. According to the roster that was posted outside the innermost circle, fights usually occurred Thursday through Sunday. That explained why the bar wasn’t entirely busy. Behind the counter, a young blonde skillfully poured drinks like it was second nature, flashing grins and winks at every patron. Cas gave her a salute and she brought him a fire whiskey, neat, his personal drink of choice these days.

Cas grabbed a seat next to a well-dressed man at the bar and gave a laugh when he saw him ordering another. “Happy Wednesday, mate,” Cas said, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the steady drum of people in the establishment. But it seemed that the man had difficulty hearing him. Raising his voice a little, he leaned in, “Cheers to the midweek.” He clinked his glass against the man’s. “Shame they're not running a fight tonight, eh?”

@hank

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This wasn’t the kind of place that he liked to be. Honestly, he would prefer to do anything but this kind of thing. He had liked boxing when he lived in the states, he liked to place bets on the smaller fighters and watch as they rolled in the dough. He liked to laugh and point when the tall guys got their asses handed to them. As a shorter male (and honestly there were a lot of women who were taller than he) he was one of the few that really worked in the ministry and had to look up to women. Not that it was a bad vantage point or anything, because he got great views of the ‘ocean front property’ but he really hated his lack height. He even wore lifts in his shoes a lot of the time.

Perhaps it had something to do with his confidence level and how high it tended to be, that he had to be more of a man than men who were taller than he. Or something like that. Maybe he was just full of shit. His ex used to say that it was the latter, but then she left him because he wanted to get married. So who was she to judge him really. He almost giggled as he leaned in the counter, his feet swinging. He took a sip from his drink and smiled as a pretty waitress went past him and was looking at her back side when the man spoke again.

”Oh, I don’t come for the blood sport. Met a client, damn fool that he is.” He said with a snort and shake to his head. ”I could have sworn that they were, else why would the place be so busy? “ he didn’t know the place well enough to really be able to judge that kind of thing, but the bar was hoping that much he could tell.

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