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Sorrow

It is taking more and more effort to get drunk these days, this is a fact that True laments more often than not. It takes more booze and more time than she has been willing to give, even if she craves the release that getting absolutely plastered would provide. The outlet of sorts is one that has quickly become far too expensive and she despises fate for making it so. She sighs as she looks into the bottom of her glass, only the remnants of her fourth ... or was it fifth glass of red wine smiling and shining at her. Nothing in True's go-to pub is anywhere near high end, but she doesn't hate that. The people mind their own business and are otherwise friendly, the booze is cheap and flowing as well. Food is greasy and there isn't much more you could ask of a place that you go to get hammered.

She looks up at the bartender tending behind the plaster surface of the bar. The countertop is black as if to make this place look cooler and more club-like. It didn't work very well, it only makes it look dirtier than it is. The bartender has his back turned and is tending to a different customer who holds none of True's attention in the slightest.

Maybe she should call him over to her. If only to get one more, just one- it's like she knows she'll be buying a hell of a lot more than one more fucking glass.

One.

More.

Destruction leads to a very rough road but it also breeds creation

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ooc: it's been 10!!! years, had to polish the dust off :D