universal_charm | SANCTUM IC CONTACT

[ This is Damon Salvatore's way of checking in on someone he considers a friend. It's more like Kirk sort of weaseled his way into Damon's prickly arms, but somehow, he's made it past the exterior. Anyway, Damon's not the type to ask if someone is okay if their names aren't Stefan, Elena, or Alaric. (Maybe Caroline, oh, and Bonnie, too now.) ]

Someone sounds like they need a drink.

Maybe. So long as someone takes the comm away from me. I don't need to be drunk yelling at all of Proles.

_{[ He won't say it, but maybe he's a bit touched the other had commed him about this. What could he say? Hearing things like that, hearing what Elizabeth had gone through - it touched a nerve. A big one. ]}

That's a deal I can make. I have no problem whatsoever with withholding something from someone. You may not even get it back.

First drink's even on me.

[ AKA, you know his bartending schedule and he's clearly working right now, but you seem like you need - something. And he's going to provide more than just the first drink, he just won't advertise that. ]

You're a tease, did you know that?

How can I refuse an offer like that?

_{[ He checks the time and figures it out, making for Damon's place of work. Not like he wanted to go to sleep anyways. He was to riled up, antsy and edgy, the eddies of memories true and false swirling around in his head, some he thought he had forgotten, others he wished he could. ]}

Edited 2015-03-20 06:24 (UTC)

Only all the time.

Easy. But, it'd be pretty foolish to.

[ Damon can be found behind the bar, where else. But, tonight's crowd is decidedly quieter. There's a couple who he doesn't need to bother. And one quiet guy who looks like someone broke into his place and kicked him out. (Ha.) As Kirk slides onto a stool, two glasses are set on the bar. ] Pick your poison.

_{[ He makes himself comfortable, cracking his neck and rubbing it, suddenly feeling tired. Anger did that to him. It fueled him for a little bit, and then in the end just left him feeling like he was running on empty. ]}

Scotch, good stuff.

_{[ What? He had good tastes, especially when he was riled up or knocked down. Beers were for parties. Scotch was for times like this. ]}

You don't take a shot of scotch.

[ So, he goes with whiskey, first. The equivalent to Jameson. ] Shoot this back, and then you'll get the good stuff. [ What, being a bartender has influenced him. And this guy needs to take it all back. ]

_{[ Oh, no, you did not. He was just ordering in a small kind of blur, hadn't been paying attention to the glass size. Whoops.

He takes the whiskey shot and does as Damon ordered, tossing it back like an old pro. Really, this sort of thing was old hat. He'd mastered it in high school, though admittedly the alcohol hadn't been nearly as good back then. ]}

Spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, right?

[ Damon does equally so, the sting burning his throat more than his liking. But, that's not being a full-fledged 100% vampire, now, is it. Fun fact. Damon can now get drunk. Another glass is set beside Kirk's, that one being filled with a spacier Glenlivet. Oh, and he gets a second shot he might want to sip. ]

In the most dee-lightful way.

_{[ That made Kirk smile the tiniest bit, lip twitching upwards momentarily. He took the glass of scotch, swirling it and giving it a brief sniff, enjoying the richness of it before taking a gulp. It was probably a slight insult to drink so much at once, but he was in a mood and he had time to savor it. For now, he enjoyed the sharp burn that spread over tongue and throat, the warmth that settled in his belly. ]}

And then you'll be right as rain.

_{[ He swirls the glass, licking his lips. ]}

[ As for Damon, he's pouring himself another glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the couple down the way drop currency down on the bar. A tip. How quaint.

Oh. And down to business, he holds his hand out. ] Now that you're properly lubricated, hand it over.

_{[ There's a second where he doesn't know what Damon's talking about, then it clicks, and he slides over the comm - and the keys to his bike. Responsible and all that jazz. ]}

Might need you to drag me home tonight too, if that's all right.

[ Damon takes the comm, setting the glasses on the other side of the bar, by the bottles. Hand wrapping around the keys, he slides them off the bar and slips them into his pocket. ]

It's fine. I have two couches, remember?

What, you mean I don't get to cuddle with you at the end of the night?

_{[ He laughs a little, sipping his scotch slower this time, letting it flood his mouth, wash over his tongue, try and wipe out the bitter taste of his anger. He must be feeling a little better if he was teasing like that. ]}

I make no promises.

[ Yeah, that's not a no, but this is Damon the tease over here.

The quiet guy drops down his own money and they're left alone, Damon leaning against the bar, arms propping him up. He pulls off his own communicator and sets it down on the bar next to Kirk's. ] And that's enough of that for the night.

_{[ Kirk just smiles, really already figuring it was a no anyways.

He glances at the man leaving and then at Damon setting away his glasses, wrist slowly swirling the amber of his drink. ]}

What, not making promises or listening to the drivel?

_{[ He nods at the glasses, taking a sip. ]}

Really chomping at the bit, there.

[ But, Damon can't blame him. He's always been on the other end of that. ]

The glasses get in my way. [ If Stefan, or if Caroline or someone needs help, well, he'd get back to them. ] They're a distraction. When I've been told the customer is the priority. Always being right and all.

Well, I am right about 95% of the time.

_{[ He chuckled at his own bad joke, tapping his finger against the rim
of the glass before sipping again. He was going through it at a steady pace
here, but at least he was taking pauses, and treating the alcohol with the
respect it deserved. That whiskey shot might not be so lucky or deserving.
]}

So - what do you think about all of this?

_{[ He meant the trial, this talk about restricting them. ]}

And you're hoping that pertains to me.

[ Damon placed several glasses of ice in his own glass, pouring himself four fingers. ]

I think it's talk. I think they're looking for someone to place the blame. I think we all blend together. We're the intruders. Even though we'd choose to not be here.

Hmm, sounds about right.

_{[ He shifted and leaned back in his chair, not quite slouching, but taking on a more relaxed air. Normally expressive lips were turned the slightest bit down at the corners, blue eyes lacking their usual spark. ]}

How are you coping? Being here, I mean. Hasn't been that long for you, has it?

Three weeks. [ ... ] Today.

[ He half shrugs as he brings his glass to his mouth, tipping it back. The ice slides towards him with a clink before he sets it down, the glass hitting the bar with a thud. ]

I have a job. A new fully furnished apartment. I may not be dating my ex's best friend, but we can't all be Stefan.

Well, that sounds dangerous.

_{[ He drummed his fingers, antsy, nervous, angry. He wasn't good at sitting still. It was when he did that people knew something really was wrong with him. ]}

Happy three week-a-versary.

_{[ He raised his glass to him, using it as an excuse to take another drink. ]}

[ He raises it in kind, taking another sip, pushing the anniversary to the back of his mind. Three weeks. Four months in 1994. It's all relative, isn't it. ]

_{[ He sits there quietly for a bit, sometimes sipping his drink, the ice the loudest thing between them for a bit. He was letting the energy drain, not quite meditating, but close. He had barked a lot on the network, but he couldn't go off doing half-assed things that would make more trouble. He did that once and it had cost him more than a headache. ]}

You serve food here? Yelling at the general populace works up an appetite.

[ He's handed a menu with a brief selection of appetizers, high end bar food. Shoe string fries. Calimari, things like that. ]

Day 200 ( March ) - Evening | Text

Day 200 ( March ) - Evening | Text

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