09-29-2013, 02:34 PM
Jensen absorbed Tony's answer without much understanding. Flexible hours could mean a dozen things, no few of them illicit. If Tony were involved in questionable activities, Jensen did not want to know about them.
He shook his head and blinked, unsure of what to do. Tony called the bartender once more, and Jensen wondered if the man would find it easier to simply leave the bottle rather than stalk back and forth so many times. Is that number three??
Just when Jensen caught his breath, Tony shoved a second shot in front of him. He gaped at it. "Another one?"
So soon after the first, Jensen could hardly imagine putting himself through that kind of pain again. His lungs still burnt from before. He watched Tony in awe.
The glass was so small, and kind of pretty, actually. How could something wield so much power? Okay.. He steadied his nerves and drank in a devoted breath. ..don't think about it.
He swallowed a wince and threw back the second shot of his life. Pain tinged with the color of regret ripped once more and he curled over the bartop. He swallowed the sting of tears, licked his lips and shoved the empty glass away like his soul was longing for distance his head was not willing to provide.
"I think I'm getting better at this," he admitted with comfortable disinhibition. Like the veil between his head and heart was torn and he finally peered into the forbidden corners of his own thoughts for the first time.
He bowed his head and before he knew it, a third shot appeared before his face. He drank it back without so much as considering the consequences. He didn't care. This was the sweetest oblivion he'd ever felt. Minutes ticked by with Jensen staring straight ahead. For once his mind was blessedly empty of thought. Like Tony said, the time passed faster.
The door creaked once more, but unlike upon Tony's entrance, he twisted, curious to see who entered. A young lady.
Then the world spun, and suddenly he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. That's weird. His chair clattered alongside.
He shook his head and blinked, unsure of what to do. Tony called the bartender once more, and Jensen wondered if the man would find it easier to simply leave the bottle rather than stalk back and forth so many times. Is that number three??
Just when Jensen caught his breath, Tony shoved a second shot in front of him. He gaped at it. "Another one?"
So soon after the first, Jensen could hardly imagine putting himself through that kind of pain again. His lungs still burnt from before. He watched Tony in awe.
The glass was so small, and kind of pretty, actually. How could something wield so much power? Okay.. He steadied his nerves and drank in a devoted breath. ..don't think about it.
He swallowed a wince and threw back the second shot of his life. Pain tinged with the color of regret ripped once more and he curled over the bartop. He swallowed the sting of tears, licked his lips and shoved the empty glass away like his soul was longing for distance his head was not willing to provide.
"I think I'm getting better at this," he admitted with comfortable disinhibition. Like the veil between his head and heart was torn and he finally peered into the forbidden corners of his own thoughts for the first time.
He bowed his head and before he knew it, a third shot appeared before his face. He drank it back without so much as considering the consequences. He didn't care. This was the sweetest oblivion he'd ever felt. Minutes ticked by with Jensen staring straight ahead. For once his mind was blessedly empty of thought. Like Tony said, the time passed faster.
The door creaked once more, but unlike upon Tony's entrance, he twisted, curious to see who entered. A young lady.
Then the world spun, and suddenly he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. That's weird. His chair clattered alongside.