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El Chapo
The concert is tomorrow. Yet he's here, drinking. His many silver rings clink against the glass as he grabs it, lifts it to his lifts. A thin mustache, narrowed grey eyes and slightly curled black hair frame a distant look, like he's not even here. Maybe he'll stop in time to get some rest, but probably not. Then again, who cares? The concert is in the evening. He'll have all day to sober up.
The bartender looks over, seeing the vacant look in his eyes. It's not the first time El Chapo has come here. Not the first time he's drunk too much. For now, this whisky is his first, so nothing bad yet, but it's good to keep an eye on it. The rapper is known for sounding more fun and silly than he actually is, hiding serious truths in witty lines spoken so quickly that you truly have to listen if you wanna get his meaning. Some of his tracks are considered absolute memes, others are beloved by all, and then there are the other ones. But those are better left unmentioned.
The bartender looks over, seeing the vacant look in his eyes. It's not the first time El Chapo has come here. Not the first time he's drunk too much. For now, this whisky is his first, so nothing bad yet, but it's good to keep an eye on it. The rapper is known for sounding more fun and silly than he actually is, hiding serious truths in witty lines spoken so quickly that you truly have to listen if you wanna get his meaning. Some of his tracks are considered absolute memes, others are beloved by all, and then there are the other ones. But those are better left unmentioned.
Joder...He murmurs as he leans over the counter, mumbling to himself. He grabs a napkin, starts taking notes on it, but it doesn't work well. Frustrated, he sighs. Raises his head to look at the bartender.
Reeze. Can you get me some paper?
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