closed to gabe fletcher (tw: drugs)

[dormousesaid]

The bar isn't overly crowded -- it's not that kind of bar, it seems. Not like the ones Ignacio usually spent time in, even a year ago. But it's not empty, either, which means that people have less of a chance of remembering him later. Which is, strangely, his M.O. tonight.

It isn't usually, but Ignacio is pretty new to town, and there are things he needs to do. Things like set up regular, dependable business hours. Where 'business' reads 'people willing to buy Ignacio's product, which is crazy magical drugs.' He rarely feels bad about it. He offers a clean, superior product that gives people what they want, in a way that's usually harmless -- if they attend to their personal responsibilities as he does his own.

He looks up when someone comes toward the table he's sitting at, peering over the edge of his menu.

"Mussels?" he asks. A bar is pretty shit if it doesn't offer mussels. They're good with wine, which is the only thing he drinks, and even then, only a glass or two at most. Ignacio isn't a drinker. His father was a drinker, and that's every reason he needs to avoid it.

Comments

[overdrawing]

"Ask the guy behind the bar," Gabe says, wiping down the counter next to him. He keeps his eyes carefully averted, afraid to stare or be caught staring. There are days like this, when handsomer men come in, that that becomes more of a trial. Just bus the tables and wash the dishes, he tells himself.

"But it's mostly what he calls pub grub."