and don't forget that there is someone up above

[confidenceman]

It's been a long time since Sawyer's turned steadily to drink. The Island never let a person run too far away from their troubles, not in this way. When you had to carefully pick and choose the things that were brought into your world, the conscious decision to avoid bringing vices was easier. There was no profit motive, nothing for the Island to gain from it. That just wasn't why anyone went there in the first place.

But here in Darrow, the bartenders are nothing but encouraging when they fill Sawyer's glass to the brim.

Being in the city's been difficult. He knows that his life on the Island was destroyed, razed down to the ground, and that there ain't any meaningful rebuilding of that to be had. It's the idea that there's been some other part to his life that he can't fully remember, a case of memories mostly beyond his reach, that has him drinking now. A complication that he didn't foresee, that he doesn't know how to process, and the only way to get him to stop thinking about it is to make it impossible to think at all.

"I need your keys," the bartender said, and Sawyer snorts in amusement before tossing over the keys to the truck he uses for construction work.

"Wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, anyway," he grits in reply before downing the rest of the glass.

Comments

[sciencesaggressively]

Newt slides onto a bar stool next to a shaggy-haired gentleman who looks like he's seen better days. He orders a beer from the bartender but can't stop stealing glances at the other guy. He wants to say something because he's Newt Geiszler and doesn't know how to stay quiet for very long, not even when he's alone in the lab after Hermann has huffed away to bed.

And isn't that why he's here, anyway? For the first time in a decade, there's nobody to tell him how unprofessionally dressed he is or how poor his eating habits or that he really ought to get some more sleep because the bags under his eyes are starting to get thicker than his frames can hide. It's too quiet in his head, and he takes a long chug of his drink to try to fill the void.

He spends a full ten seconds debating whether it's a good idea to engage a guy who could probably snap his neck with just one look before leaning towards him with a wry smile. "So what are you trying to forget?"