Post by crnagora on Apr 13, 2012 22:38:55 GMT -5
There was nothing wrong with stopping in at the bar to grab a drink; maybe it wasn't wise for Annica to go to a bar on her own, but the act of having a drink or two - or maybe even three - was nothing inherently bad. Still, she cast a slightly furtive look about her as she made her way down the streets and to the bar. She knew her parents wouldn't particularly like it if they knew where she was going... or at least her mother wouldn't. But it didn't matter. She was twenty-three years old, and if she was having a bad enough day that she wanted to drink herself into oblivion, then by golly, she would.
She pulled the door to the bar open and strode right up to the bar to take a seat at the stool. She was still wearing a cloak with a hood, and the hood was up to cover her face - she didn't want to make it too easy for her superiors to see her out and about and decide she was behaving disgracefully. Which was totally bullshit when she thought about it; she knew full well that many men who shared the same rank as her went out frequently. And just yesterday, one of them had come in hungover and no one had said a word....
She sighed heavily and gave the bartender her order - a pale lager. Her usual. Maybe it wasn't going to get her mind-numbingly drunk as quickly as other drinks would, but it was her drink of choice and there was something entertaining about sipping slowly at it and watching the other patrons around her descend into more and more outrageous behavior as they began to succumb to the effects of the alcohol.
She brought up a hand to hide her rather obvious amusement when an old man sitting four stools down toppled over and hit the ground, still calling for another beer. From the bartender's rather exasperated expression, she was pretty sure that this was a common occurrence. That, and the way he rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, not again..."
Smirking faintly, she turned her attention back to her own drink and took a sip. Ah, perfect. She could practically feel the stress of the day slipping off her shoulders.
She pulled the door to the bar open and strode right up to the bar to take a seat at the stool. She was still wearing a cloak with a hood, and the hood was up to cover her face - she didn't want to make it too easy for her superiors to see her out and about and decide she was behaving disgracefully. Which was totally bullshit when she thought about it; she knew full well that many men who shared the same rank as her went out frequently. And just yesterday, one of them had come in hungover and no one had said a word....
She sighed heavily and gave the bartender her order - a pale lager. Her usual. Maybe it wasn't going to get her mind-numbingly drunk as quickly as other drinks would, but it was her drink of choice and there was something entertaining about sipping slowly at it and watching the other patrons around her descend into more and more outrageous behavior as they began to succumb to the effects of the alcohol.
She brought up a hand to hide her rather obvious amusement when an old man sitting four stools down toppled over and hit the ground, still calling for another beer. From the bartender's rather exasperated expression, she was pretty sure that this was a common occurrence. That, and the way he rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, not again..."
Smirking faintly, she turned her attention back to her own drink and took a sip. Ah, perfect. She could practically feel the stress of the day slipping off her shoulders.