Drinking?, Anonymouse <3

[Grace]

Adam is nervous. Not super nervous. Just a little nervous. He's the kind of nervous you get when you want people to like you, to not think that you're weird or different when you know that you are unyieldingly odd. He doesn't have a great amount of practice with people, you see. He is social, to be sure, at times his social life even borders on inappropriate. If he were a girl, people might call him a whore or a slut. Adam's sociality, though, is constricted to groups of people who already accept him or don't care and are never going to. He's never had to work at making acceptance happen.

He sits awkwardly. His skin's not nearby--it's locked in a safe at his uncle's apartment. That man is just giving, there's not other word to describe him. He loves unconditionally and makes himself and his resources available to whomever's in need. Adam's twin James makes a home of the man's charity, having a room and a place to call home apart from the sea. Adam's dependence on the man is more of a financial situation. He needed money to go out and his uncle put sixty dollars in his pocket. That takes care of his drinks.

The clothing Adam stole from his brother. A graphic tee stretches tight across his chest, and the jeans are light, comfortable, obviously well loved. The shoes...Adam's always wondered about his brother's vast shoe collection. James obsesses so much over the different styles and colors that at times, Adam feels justified in accusing his brother of wavering sexuality. If only to tempt James into a fight. It's never a matter of winning, Adam's resigned to loosing. In a weird, twisted way, he considers it bonding.

They never go out together, the two of them. James insists that their similarities end at their bodies. He's not interested in picking up girls while his brother attracts men. A man can get the wrong reputation in such company. This being the case, Adam has no idea what his brother drinks, or what kinds of girls he goes after (the assumption is, of course, blond and busty), but identical genetics have to count for something. They at least have the same taste buds because Adam's downing his brother's stand-by beer. Despite their crazy-different range in personality, they tend to pick the same spot at the bar.

One or two of the regular girls have been eying the boy for a while, wondering why he hasn't approached them yet: James never turns them down.

[mouse]

Tatters isn't really sure why he's at the Twa Corbies again. The place really has nothing going for it. Too many tourists, kitschy name, and the innish who haunt it tend to have a rather 'Old Country' vibe going on. But it's only about five in the evening, far too early to hit the clubs, and he needs a drink. So he's willing to risk the ambiance.

Stepping into the bar, he sees an all too familiar figure seated at the bar, and he sighs.

Last time he met this dude it ended messily. But Tatters likes to imagine they've sorted out their issues. They parted on fairly cordial terms, to his mind. So he doesn't feel to worried about sauntering up to the bar, planting his ass on a barstool, and smirking over at the bartender.

The 'regular' girls are giving him a rather bitchy look, probably because he's infringing on their territory. And he's got so much more class than them, anyway. Perfect hair, too, pulled into a loose sideway ponytail. His lip gloss is immaculate, he's got great legs, and long long lashes. From these girls' point of view there's not really anything to like about him.

The bartender gives him a look of half-recognition, but contents himself with asking Tatters what he wants.

"Scotch on the rocks, please and thanks," Tatters says. His nails are steel grey, too long, and he taps them gently on the surface of the bar. While the 'tender fixes his drink, he gives Adam a sidelong look and a smirk. He tosses his head a bit, flicking his fringe out of his eyes in a rather pointless gesture. It falls back into place a second later.

He waits, to see if the guy is gonna call him a faggot again.

[Grace]

Of course, Adam gives Tatters a few glances. He'd looked behind himself when the door opened and caught himself looking at a godsend. The Twa Corbies was only where he meant to get drunk before going to a club so he wouldn't have to pay outrageous prices on drinks. Could he really be so lucky? He doesn't keep his eyes on the other guy. Adam doesn't want to look like a creep, or overeager, so while he drinks he runs through a dumber of scenarios. Most of them end with somebody laughing at him.

When Tatters orders his drink, Adam looks over again. Perfect hair, kissable lips...he snorts loudly, rather like James. Like he could ever get someone like that. A lifetime of being submissive hasn't done wonders for his self esteem.

Having pretty much decided to give up, Adam knocks back a swig of beer with muscle movements that have to be genetic. He'll just go to a club or something where he doesn't have to try so hard.

[mouse]

Tatters takes a long sip of his drink. Itīs alcholic and cold, which is really all heīs asking from it at this point. He tosses his hair again. Apparently no, his sexuality wonīt be insulted tonight. Which is kind of disappointing, as a little skirmishing might spice up what has otherwise been a fairly uninteresting day.

He pouts over at the man, who is no longer looking in his direction - god, why not - and continues to do so until heīs got Adamīs attention.

"So, you come here a lot?"

This will sound to Adamīs ears like a cheap pick-up line, but was intended as a sort of joke for James.