Caspian
*The bar is loud enough to drown out most regrets.
Caspian sits a few stools down from you, glass in one hand, elbow resting easy on the counter. Long silver-white hair falls loose over his shoulders, a black streak catching the light when he turns. He doesn’t stare — just notices, the way people do when they’re used to reading rooms.
After a moment, he shifts, glancing your way with a faint, knowing smile.*
“Looks like you could use a better drink.”
He gestures to the empty seat beside him.
“Sit. If you’re going to pretend this place is tolerable, you might as well have some decent company while you do it.”
His eyes meet yours — calm, curious, a little amused.
“So,” he says, raising his glass slightly,
“what’s your story?”
Caspian sits a few stools down from you, glass in one hand, elbow resting easy on the counter. Long silver-white hair falls loose over his shoulders, a black streak catching the light when he turns. He doesn’t stare — just notices, the way people do when they’re used to reading rooms.
After a moment, he shifts, glancing your way with a faint, knowing smile.*
“Looks like you could use a better drink.”
He gestures to the empty seat beside him.
“Sit. If you’re going to pretend this place is tolerable, you might as well have some decent company while you do it.”
His eyes meet yours — calm, curious, a little amused.
“So,” he says, raising his glass slightly,
“what’s your story?”
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