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Mid September, Lucy
Sep. 17th, 2017 11:13 pmHe shouldn't be day drinking, at least not in public. He's reasonably sure that's up there somewhere on the list of things you're not meant to do, but right now he couldn't care less. He'd done plenty of day drinking back home, and while he knows that was an entirely different situation, he's still using it as an excuse.
The other excuse, which he's still trying to wrap his head around, is that yesterday he was on a goddamn spaceship, and now he's back in Darrow.
Hawkeye had thought that turning up in this place was the strangest thing that could ever happen to him, but apparently he was wrong. He was so wrong, because then he'd woken up having a panic attack in a tiny little pod on the Avalon. He knows that Aurora is going through the ringer right now, undoubtedly in a worse state of mind than he is, but he's still allowing himself a drink. He's just made sure to at least go to a bar he doesn't normally go to, so that there's less of a chance of being spotted. Not that it matters, really. He's not on call and he's got nowhere else to be, and there's no army to dictate all of his movements anymore.
"Same again, if you'd be so kind," he says to the bartender, pushing his empty glass forward with the tip of his finger. He's had two already, but it'll take a lot more than that before he's on his ass, so he's not worried. "Did you know that yesterday I was in space?" he continues, though he knows there's a small chance that anybody is listening to him at all. "Space, I'm serious. There were robots and everything."
The robot bartender on the Avalon would have been more talkative than this guy, but maybe it's a good thing he's back around living, breathing people, even when they're entirely disinterested in him.
The other excuse, which he's still trying to wrap his head around, is that yesterday he was on a goddamn spaceship, and now he's back in Darrow.
Hawkeye had thought that turning up in this place was the strangest thing that could ever happen to him, but apparently he was wrong. He was so wrong, because then he'd woken up having a panic attack in a tiny little pod on the Avalon. He knows that Aurora is going through the ringer right now, undoubtedly in a worse state of mind than he is, but he's still allowing himself a drink. He's just made sure to at least go to a bar he doesn't normally go to, so that there's less of a chance of being spotted. Not that it matters, really. He's not on call and he's got nowhere else to be, and there's no army to dictate all of his movements anymore.
"Same again, if you'd be so kind," he says to the bartender, pushing his empty glass forward with the tip of his finger. He's had two already, but it'll take a lot more than that before he's on his ass, so he's not worried. "Did you know that yesterday I was in space?" he continues, though he knows there's a small chance that anybody is listening to him at all. "Space, I'm serious. There were robots and everything."
The robot bartender on the Avalon would have been more talkative than this guy, but maybe it's a good thing he's back around living, breathing people, even when they're entirely disinterested in him.
