[ People haunt bars for all sorts of reasons these days. In Carver's case, he braves the noise and the light and the people because the idea of drinking alone is unbearable. He doesn't even like beer, but sometimes his thoughts just start vibrating inside his skull, the pitch growing higher and higher until he has to move to escape it and you never can pace fast enough or hard enough to escape that shit.
No. That's where alcohol comes in, or the purity of a good fight. Not to the death, no, not around the civilized folk and all their civilized ways, but the world has its rituals and sometimes he, too, is a believer even if he doesn't quite feel like a person these days. And so, a bar, a drink in hand, a keen eye on the corners and the exits. And on the white guy going broody and internal not so far away.
That's interesting, isn't it?
Carver tilts his head one way, then the other. And then he buys a second of whatever the guy's drinking and slides it over. Sometimes, he just gets impulses. Does shit just to see what happens next, something to break the momentum. ]
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No. That's where alcohol comes in, or the purity of a good fight. Not to the death, no, not around the civilized folk and all their civilized ways, but the world has its rituals and sometimes he, too, is a believer even if he doesn't quite feel like a person these days. And so, a bar, a drink in hand, a keen eye on the corners and the exits. And on the white guy going broody and internal not so far away.
That's interesting, isn't it?
Carver tilts his head one way, then the other. And then he buys a second of whatever the guy's drinking and slides it over. Sometimes, he just gets impulses. Does shit just to see what happens next, something to break the momentum. ]