09-27-2013, 10:04 AM
Tony replaced one anonymous shot glass with another, and Jensen scratched at his temple skeptical at the swap. In the span of minutes, the man - an obvious local - tossed two down the gullet without so much as a grimace, while Jensen barely managed a sip.
He hesitantly pulled the new drink before him. The liquid was as harmlessly clear as the previous brand, but the glass serving it fit heavier in his palm. Besides expensive taste in liquor, everything from the cut of Tony's hair to his dominating posture at the bar spoke to a man of means. Jensen may be a child in Moscow, but he knew enough that means meant wealth. At least some things were consistent across the ages. The root of all evil, right?
He pressed the rounded edge of the glass to his lips. The scent itself stung his nostrils. This was bound to taste like burnt rubber, but before a drop touched his tongue, his eyes narrowed defiantly, and he gave into Tony's demand. He did belong in a place like this.
He threw the shot back in one gulp. There was more liquid than he'd actually anticipated, and had to swallow twice to get it all down. He grimaced. Painful tears quickly welled in the corner of his eyes. It ripped through his chest and he coughed for air like his throat were about to close off. If this was the 'good stuff,' he couldn't tell. It was all battery acid.
He ignored the bartender's shameful head shaking once his vision came back into focus, and instead turned back to Tony. That was the first and only shot of his life. Thus far. It was like conquering Everest, but his cheeks flushed warm and his head was already swimming.
He ran a hand through his hair, unsure whether the sensation crawling across his skin was normal or not. "Never finished one of those before," he admitted. "Then again, I didn't trying start until I was thirty." There was a silver-lining in that. "Maybe in another two years I'll finish the second," he chuckled.
Instantaneously warm, he shrugged out of the jacket he wore and slung it across the back of the chair. "You a shift worker too?"
Slightly more alive than before, or at least more awake, Jensen was careful not to hold Tony's gaze more than a few seconds at a time. Not after the man's previous reaction.
He hesitantly pulled the new drink before him. The liquid was as harmlessly clear as the previous brand, but the glass serving it fit heavier in his palm. Besides expensive taste in liquor, everything from the cut of Tony's hair to his dominating posture at the bar spoke to a man of means. Jensen may be a child in Moscow, but he knew enough that means meant wealth. At least some things were consistent across the ages. The root of all evil, right?
He pressed the rounded edge of the glass to his lips. The scent itself stung his nostrils. This was bound to taste like burnt rubber, but before a drop touched his tongue, his eyes narrowed defiantly, and he gave into Tony's demand. He did belong in a place like this.
He threw the shot back in one gulp. There was more liquid than he'd actually anticipated, and had to swallow twice to get it all down. He grimaced. Painful tears quickly welled in the corner of his eyes. It ripped through his chest and he coughed for air like his throat were about to close off. If this was the 'good stuff,' he couldn't tell. It was all battery acid.
He ignored the bartender's shameful head shaking once his vision came back into focus, and instead turned back to Tony. That was the first and only shot of his life. Thus far. It was like conquering Everest, but his cheeks flushed warm and his head was already swimming.
He ran a hand through his hair, unsure whether the sensation crawling across his skin was normal or not. "Never finished one of those before," he admitted. "Then again, I didn't trying start until I was thirty." There was a silver-lining in that. "Maybe in another two years I'll finish the second," he chuckled.
Instantaneously warm, he shrugged out of the jacket he wore and slung it across the back of the chair. "You a shift worker too?"
Slightly more alive than before, or at least more awake, Jensen was careful not to hold Tony's gaze more than a few seconds at a time. Not after the man's previous reaction.