Adult Content Warning
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Summary
"Cheers!"
Lime-flavored alcohol, fermented using the rare imported fruits the Backstreets rarely afford. At the third shot, the mouth loses sensation—citrus, sugar cube, ice, and the burn of alcohol are gone in moments. One's attention moves onto a new area of concern as a result, to the surroundings: the ceiling's asbestos, the chiseled patterns in the cracked walls, the fish swimming in the display tank, and the blood staining the floor.
Celebration.
Hong Lu smiles at Sinclair. "You're not as bad as you make yourself sound. Look how cool you can act if you receive the opportunity."
Sinclair laughs and scratches his head. A flush of embarrassment rushes to his cheeks, redder under the sallow bar lights. "W-Well, I try. Sometimes."
Hong Lu raises the bottle in her hands once more. "One more round?"
"Sure," he smiles.
It's a good day to be alive and kicking. The lassitude following when they've shit to do has finally assuaged, if only for a short while. Stupid fights. Stupid drama. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A distraction to get themselves thinking about a better world to live in, maybe, where people stop stabbing each other in the back and betraying those in their good graces.