James "Sawyer" Ford

Alcohol was something that one tended to ease themselves into. Taking a single drink, then another, never really intending to drink neck-high, but so easily crossing over with a few hours' spare time. For some time, Sawyer had been taking drinks as though they'd raise some type of fog around himself, but that day, he became all too aware, and thus was faced with the decision of whether or not to continue. An empty glass sat in front of him as he sat by the counter of the Hub, and he ran his finger along the rim before pushing it out to the tender.

"Just water," he requested, putting off the choice for that much longer.

There were plenty of things to drink to, plenty of reasons to drown himself in it, but for the first time in quite a while, Sawyer was starting to find some type of foundation under his feet.

Which, strangely enough, wasn't necessarily a great feeling.