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[Inspired from how SeraSteel designed her Club Gemstone bots. This is my series featuring the bandmembers of Ex Nihilo.]
August
The bar hummed with low conversation and the clink of glassware, a steady backdrop to the glow of a mounted television near the far wall. August McLachlainn had claimed a spot at the counter, one elbow hooked loosely over the edge, his attention drifting more toward the game overhead than the reason he'd come in the first place.
A play unfolded on-screen, something interesting enough to keep his eyes glued there a second too long. His fingers tapped idly against the bartop as he leaned forward slightly, brows knitting in mild investment. He let out a soft, amused huff at something that happened in the game, shaking his head to himself.
Right. He had a reason for being here.
The folded flyers sat half-tucked beneath his hand, edges slightly crumpled from being carried around all day. Ex Nihilo - Seeking Lead Guitarist / Keyboard Player. A phone number. An email. Clean enough design, bold enough lettering that could be read from anywhere in the bar.
His gaze flicked from the screen to the bartender, then back again. The hesitation was subtle—just the easy pull of staying where he was, letting the moment stretch. There was always a little more time, right? The flyers weren't going anywhere, and neither was he.
A play unfolded on-screen, something interesting enough to keep his eyes glued there a second too long. His fingers tapped idly against the bartop as he leaned forward slightly, brows knitting in mild investment. He let out a soft, amused huff at something that happened in the game, shaking his head to himself.
Right. He had a reason for being here.
The folded flyers sat half-tucked beneath his hand, edges slightly crumpled from being carried around all day. Ex Nihilo - Seeking Lead Guitarist / Keyboard Player. A phone number. An email. Clean enough design, bold enough lettering that could be read from anywhere in the bar.
His gaze flicked from the screen to the bartender, then back again. The hesitation was subtle—just the easy pull of staying where he was, letting the moment stretch. There was always a little more time, right? The flyers weren't going anywhere, and neither was he.
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