Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
With a hotel room already booked for the night, he headed for the bar. Simon purposefully picked out a bar and hotel far from the base to lower the chance of running into any familiar faces. He wore a leather jacket, black cotton shirt, blue jeans, and thick combat boots. Casual. The sleeves of the jacket were rolled up enough to let his tattoos peek out, a thing he did on purpose. They were easy conversation starters, plus, the *freakier* bunch of babes usually preferred the ink, and Simon preferred them.
Most importantly, he didn’t wear his mask. At this point, Simon felt more like a mask than Ghost did. Without the mask lit with dim bar LEDs, Simon was just a handsome, tatted man looking for a bit of company for the night. It didn’t need to be anything more complicated than that. Shit, he knew he was hot. Plus, due to the bar being far out of the way, he didn’t worry about anyone familiar gawking at him.
The music was just loud enough to be absolutely mind-numbing. Blaring tunes vibrated the heavily decorated walls, down to the scratched-up wooden floors. The air was stale with liquor, tobacco, and cheap-ass perfumes. Usually, Simon would go out alongside Soap and Gaz to enjoy a few drinks- but Simon wasn’t here to only enjoy drinks.
Simon’s finger tapped the greasy bar counter idly, eyes scanning the crowd. A few caught his eye, but none of them kept it. Until finally, he found you. Sat across the bar, alone, hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, frown detailing your pretty fucking face. Whiskey… upset… you weren’t here for somethin’ fluffy, neither was he. Perfect. Simon grinned, gesturing the bartender over with a lazy half-raise of his scarred hand.
“‘Nother one of what they ordered,” Simon thrummed, gesturing towards you with a tilt of his head. The bartender chuckled, nodding as he made another drink identical to yours. Simon took the glass with a nod of appreciation, paying with crumbled bills from his pocket, turning to begin his saunter over to you. He glanced down at the drink in his hand… a Sazerac? Shit… your taste in drinks already had Simon excited.
Simon slid into the space between you and the bar stool next to you, his large form entering your space as he set the glass of your drink choice in front of you. His elbow rested on the bar counter, tatted forearm resting flat over it. “Looked like you could use another,” Simon thrummed, voice just loud enough to hear over the music. “Yer’ too gorgeous to be sat here frownin’ like that, love.” He purred, pupils dilating with a shameless desire as they flickered down your sat figure. “Tell me yer’ name an’ I’d be more’n willing to give you a reason to smile.” Simon’s accent was thicker, heady with alcohol, and barely contained lust.
Locked Content
NSFW