08-30-2013, 05:46 AM
With single-malt scotch coursing through his veins -- yes, that's what he was drinking; amazingly, a lucid mind was still there if Jon chose to reach out and grasp it -- the Jon of this morning was gone. The apprehension and guilt he had wrestled with - and fear that with such power to harm he would make even more terrible mistakes - these things which had so terribly shaken his confidence had been pulled down beneath the surface of his psyche like driftwood caught in the undertow of a receding tide. The liquor had replaced it with something else that invigorated and emboldened him. Yes, this drink had potent properties indeed when consumed in large quantities. The rational part of his brain reminded him not to trust that feeling too much; while hardly a heavy drinker he was certainly aware the alcohol was affecting his reasoning and judgment in ways he would probably not be aware of. For the moment, that was just fine by him.
Jon sipped his drink. Bold, smoky flavor with a hint of pepper. Full of fire that coursed into him with each sip. He regarded the two again as he set his glass down. He could care less what was going on over at the stage. Just like any entertainer, the players were merely actors, cast in their roles as part of a purposeful, scripted routine when it came down to it -- where was the real mystery? The game being played out before him, though...that was real. Those two were players upon their own stage with no script, no rules and no predictable outcome. That made it much more entertaining.
And it was complex and thrilling game to watch. Jon couldn't hear anything from his seat, but any lawyer worth his retainer fee knew to watch for unspoken words or actions in order to better refine his questions when cross-examining the opponent's witness. With the way the man moved in toward her ever so much closer, initiating the slightest touch, he wanted to see how close he could get to the fire without being burned. Yes, the man thought he was charming her over. But she was regarding him like a cat with a ball of yarn. She had started the interplay and wasn't about to surrender any control over the situation. Yes, she was toying with him in a very purposeful way.
Jon briefly caught her eye as she turned to the bar. She had noticed Jon's attention fixed upon their table. He unashamedly relaxed and sipped his drink again. The whisky had stripped the inhibitions from him that would normally have elicited embarrassment in being caught in an act of voyeurism. Very well, she knew they had an observer. So what? They could still play their game.
And Jon was of a mood to maybe play a game, too. As she looked his way again, he raised a single eyebrow and raised his glass off the table in acknowledgement.
Edited by Jon Little Bird, Aug 30 2013, 05:48 AM.
Jon sipped his drink. Bold, smoky flavor with a hint of pepper. Full of fire that coursed into him with each sip. He regarded the two again as he set his glass down. He could care less what was going on over at the stage. Just like any entertainer, the players were merely actors, cast in their roles as part of a purposeful, scripted routine when it came down to it -- where was the real mystery? The game being played out before him, though...that was real. Those two were players upon their own stage with no script, no rules and no predictable outcome. That made it much more entertaining.
And it was complex and thrilling game to watch. Jon couldn't hear anything from his seat, but any lawyer worth his retainer fee knew to watch for unspoken words or actions in order to better refine his questions when cross-examining the opponent's witness. With the way the man moved in toward her ever so much closer, initiating the slightest touch, he wanted to see how close he could get to the fire without being burned. Yes, the man thought he was charming her over. But she was regarding him like a cat with a ball of yarn. She had started the interplay and wasn't about to surrender any control over the situation. Yes, she was toying with him in a very purposeful way.
Jon briefly caught her eye as she turned to the bar. She had noticed Jon's attention fixed upon their table. He unashamedly relaxed and sipped his drink again. The whisky had stripped the inhibitions from him that would normally have elicited embarrassment in being caught in an act of voyeurism. Very well, she knew they had an observer. So what? They could still play their game.
And Jon was of a mood to maybe play a game, too. As she looked his way again, he raised a single eyebrow and raised his glass off the table in acknowledgement.
Edited by Jon Little Bird, Aug 30 2013, 05:48 AM.