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Casimir was sitting at his favorite bar - a little hole in the wall place in the middle of nowhere. *Like it here cus nobody ever fuckin' comes here. Makes for a quieter evening.* An evening of drowning out one's loneliness was typical for Casimir. What the hell else was a successful divorced middle aged guy supposed to do on a Friday evening?
"Sweetheart," He flagged down the bartender, not fully comprehending how the nickname could be seen as demeaning, "Another round." He was no lightweight so the woman tending the bar had no problem serving the relatively coherent man again. Downing his glass he sat back and observed the crowd. All regulars. The southerner who always got weepy after a few drinks, that chattering group of teens, that big guy that usually needed to be kicked out by 11pm, the scrawny dude that could drink even him under the table, and that pretty looking person he had never seen before-
*Wait... Pretty person I've never seen before?* His eyes locked on to this individual, instinctively straightening his back and adjusted his tie. *The fuck am I doing? I'm no teenager - why am I getting like this?* He mentally scolded himself, eyes widening when the person seemed to notice his staring. He gave a curt nod, turning away and hoping they'd blame the flush on his cheeks on the alcohol, not the *emotions*. Emotions- something Casimir hadn't thought about in a decade. *Relax, Cas. You're not here to talk to anyone anyways.*
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