It had been some time since Chris wore a uniform or was classified as anything other than the quiet, but mean drunk sitting at the bar drowning his life in the next bottle of whiskey. He was a hero once - a man of honor and principle, but that had all changed when Dan was killed right before his eyes. Everything changed and not just the job, but Chris himself. Something awoke inside of him that he'd never known existed until bolts of electricity were coming out of his hands into the men who'd killed his best friend. In that moment, he wasn't sure who had been more terrified: the men he was electrocuting or himself for what he was seeing. He'd gone to bed many a night since hoping to wake in the field and that it had all been a wacky dream stemming from a bad MRE, but that moment never came. Instead, the stress of not knowing what kind of freak he was and losing his friend got him a discharge and sent back to the States.
And there he sat, at the bar, downing yet another glass of Scotch as if it were soda. His head rang like the bells of an old church and he was certain he'd fall on his face if he tried to stand, but it didn't matter. The drinking was his only way of coping with his family turning on him, losing a man he loved like a brother, and realizing he was like a living lightning rod. Dressed in a denim button up, jeans and boots with a brown leather jacket complete with wool liner, he watched as the female bartender went to add more to his glass. The look on her face was one of distaste and utter hatred, but it wasn't as if Chris cared anymore what anyone thought of him.
When she stopped pouring after just a small portion had been added to the glass, he finally spoke up, his speech slurry and rude, "Hey! Fill it up."
"You've reached your limit tonight, Chris," she stated in a firm tone. On any other day, he'd have thought her sexy, but it wasn't the night to rub him the wrong way. "Finish up and go home."
The former Air Force sergeant reached over and grabbed the bottle, going to fill his glass on his own, "Listen, sweetheart. You don't tell me when I'm done. You're here to look pretty, pour drinks, and keep your mouth shut. So why don't you exercise that?"
This didn't sit well and the woman reared back and slapped Chris right across the face forcing him to drop the bottle and grit his teeth in anger before glaring back at her. "Get the hell out of here!" She looked ready to fight and Chris really didn't want to do to her what had happened to the men that shot Dan so he took a few calm breaths, slowly stood from his chair and staggered to the door, mumbling indecencies to which the bouncer grabbed him and tossed him out the door into the alleyway.
Chris brushed himself off and glared back at the man as the door slammed shut then sighed and rubbed his face, feeling the warmth on it and knowing she'd likely left a mark.
And there he sat, at the bar, downing yet another glass of Scotch as if it were soda. His head rang like the bells of an old church and he was certain he'd fall on his face if he tried to stand, but it didn't matter. The drinking was his only way of coping with his family turning on him, losing a man he loved like a brother, and realizing he was like a living lightning rod. Dressed in a denim button up, jeans and boots with a brown leather jacket complete with wool liner, he watched as the female bartender went to add more to his glass. The look on her face was one of distaste and utter hatred, but it wasn't as if Chris cared anymore what anyone thought of him.
When she stopped pouring after just a small portion had been added to the glass, he finally spoke up, his speech slurry and rude, "Hey! Fill it up."
"You've reached your limit tonight, Chris," she stated in a firm tone. On any other day, he'd have thought her sexy, but it wasn't the night to rub him the wrong way. "Finish up and go home."
The former Air Force sergeant reached over and grabbed the bottle, going to fill his glass on his own, "Listen, sweetheart. You don't tell me when I'm done. You're here to look pretty, pour drinks, and keep your mouth shut. So why don't you exercise that?"
This didn't sit well and the woman reared back and slapped Chris right across the face forcing him to drop the bottle and grit his teeth in anger before glaring back at her. "Get the hell out of here!" She looked ready to fight and Chris really didn't want to do to her what had happened to the men that shot Dan so he took a few calm breaths, slowly stood from his chair and staggered to the door, mumbling indecencies to which the bouncer grabbed him and tossed him out the door into the alleyway.
Chris brushed himself off and glared back at the man as the door slammed shut then sighed and rubbed his face, feeling the warmth on it and knowing she'd likely left a mark.
Last edited by Christopher Knowles on Mon Jan 27, 2014 10:07 am; edited 1 time in total