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Same Raph, different bar. This one is topside in New York. His New York.
Stupidly, he thought this would make some difference. That similar stomping grounds would make him feel more at home, instead of just lost and confused.
He brings the glass up to his lips and downs the amber colored liquid. It's at this point that Raph will again realize that the glass is dirty. And like all the other times he's seen this, he'll fill the glass up and forget about it. Were he sober he'd laugh at the similarity between the glass and himself. He was given to the world dirty, and no matter what he does to try and cover this fact up, at the end of the day, dirty he'll remain. For some reason the world keeps using him anyway. It's a shame he's not more sober, he could really use a good laugh right about now.
His shoulders feel heavy, as if a great weight were strapped around his neck, which is interesting as the only thing he's worn around his neck is no longer there. The idea was to leave it behind so she wouldn't see him like this. Somewhere deep within a part of himself that understands things without actually trying to think about them, he knows that she's always watching, but even that part is trying to avoid the topic.
Half way through the glass. Time to recount the events of the last few days.
Hit by Cupid's bolt.
Encounter with Tim....images bleed in and out of focus behind his eyes. Images that don't jive with the little parts in his memory that actually recorded the night's events.. He's convinced this is Dream at work, which is why he's given up on sleep for the forseeable future.
Death cried, eyes as full of betrayal as tears.
And here he is.
Before he downs the rest of the glass, he thinks about how none of this is his fault. Beyond his control....but then...what about him isn't beyond his control.
A quick swirl of liquor, a gulp....and oh look, the glass is dirty.
Lather.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Stupidly, he thought this would make some difference. That similar stomping grounds would make him feel more at home, instead of just lost and confused.
He brings the glass up to his lips and downs the amber colored liquid. It's at this point that Raph will again realize that the glass is dirty. And like all the other times he's seen this, he'll fill the glass up and forget about it. Were he sober he'd laugh at the similarity between the glass and himself. He was given to the world dirty, and no matter what he does to try and cover this fact up, at the end of the day, dirty he'll remain. For some reason the world keeps using him anyway. It's a shame he's not more sober, he could really use a good laugh right about now.
His shoulders feel heavy, as if a great weight were strapped around his neck, which is interesting as the only thing he's worn around his neck is no longer there. The idea was to leave it behind so she wouldn't see him like this. Somewhere deep within a part of himself that understands things without actually trying to think about them, he knows that she's always watching, but even that part is trying to avoid the topic.
Half way through the glass. Time to recount the events of the last few days.
Hit by Cupid's bolt.
Encounter with Tim....images bleed in and out of focus behind his eyes. Images that don't jive with the little parts in his memory that actually recorded the night's events.. He's convinced this is Dream at work, which is why he's given up on sleep for the forseeable future.
Death cried, eyes as full of betrayal as tears.
And here he is.
Before he downs the rest of the glass, he thinks about how none of this is his fault. Beyond his control....but then...what about him isn't beyond his control.
A quick swirl of liquor, a gulp....and oh look, the glass is dirty.
Lather.
Rinse.
Repeat.