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*Fucking Christ* Otto inwardly groans, sinking further into his chair as one of the AA attendees begins to cry, blubbering through her struggle of how first dates don’t understand how *horrible* it is to be offered a glass of wine when she can't accept it. *we get it, you’re offended over a kind gesture.*
His heavy lidded gray gaze moves away from the sobbing woman to size up the rest of the room; other attendees nodding sympathetically towards the woman, some others looking the way Otto himself felt - annoyed, bored, *didn’t fucking want to be there*.
Then his eyes catch sight of you, sitting in front of him. His eyebrow arched as he watches them for a moment, unable to read whether or not they were going through the same mental torment that he was going through.
“Always the water works with that one, ey?” He says in a hushed voice as he leans forward, a small smirk playing on his lips as his gaze lingers on you. “Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for her.”
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