will
she/her
twenty-nine
november 12
rustboro
heterosexual
horticulturist
civilian
we sewed all the holes we had to breathe
TAG WITH @willow
willow atkins
long road home
POSTED ON Mar 4, 2023 4:23:23 GMT
it is not easy getting to the bar. for one, most everyone around her has a height advantage on her and she's not the type to just shove drunks aside to get her way. so she slips through the crowd at a painstaking crawl, nose wrinkled at the smell of booze and sweat surrounding her.
finally, finally, she clutches an island. her hands come away sticky from the bar top and she has to shout MORALES half a dozen times before the bartender hears her. and then, after he finally finds ollie's bill, she makes a snap decision. grabs his hand and yells, only once, MAHER.
and, miraculously, he finds it. she was only going to give it the one go. one sign. maybe he'd just gotten good at reading her lips.
drinks aren't cheap, it turns out, and she has to empty her pockets of cash to cover the tip.
she fists her copies of the receipts in her back pocket and then works her way back through the crowd around the bar, which has thankfully thinned at this point. a decent amount had settled their tabs or grabbed their last drinks while she'd been paying.
blue-green eyes rest on the men stooping over the cocktail table. a woman walks out of the bathroom beside her and, in a sudden wave of nervousness, she darts inside (much to the chagrin of the ten other women waiting in line).
she kicks over a half-full bottle of beer and swears neatly, but is relieved to find none of it spilled. and then she stands before the mirror, stares, splashes some water on her face. after scrubbing and running her fingers through her hair, she drops her hands in exasperation.
"what am i doing?"
glares bore holes in her back when she exits. she bows her head and, feeling small, slides neatly back into bo and ollie's conversation.
waits for the right moment to pipe up and say, "i settled your tab. yours too, bo. and i'm driving both of you home." before the latter can protest, she stares intensely up at him and says sternly, "i'm not letting you fly back on your aerodactyl."
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