callada: (beware the silent observer)
Donquixote Rosinante ([personal profile] callada) wrote in [community profile] logsinthenight 2020-07-21 01:46 am (UTC)

worst birthday yet

Somehow, Rosinante had a fleeting optimistic idea while down in the station. Maybe, just maybe they'd blow the beast up with Weaver's bomb and it would all be over quickly, and they'd get to come back and celebrate.

Instead, Law was nearly killed (again, so soon) and while Rosinante himself wasn't injured badly, he knows there's something wrong. He can feel it - that strange, horrible craving he wishes he could ignore. Law smelled so strongly of blood as they brought him out of the room, and he hates that in that moment, and now in his memory, it was something he liked.

So here's to another awful year in this awful shitty place, he thinks, as he comes down to join Cao Pi. Alcohol might not actually help but what else is he going to do? He needs to get away for a bit, let Law rest, maybe bring food back for him but so much for them drinking together when alcohol and painkillers are a pretty bad idea (even he knows that much).

He sits at the bar and rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the wooden surface, then reaches for a drink. The dark red is kind of enchanting.

"Is this the stuff you ordered with the portal?"

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