Chapter rating: T /Just a mention of drinking and smoking.
Short prologue equals long chapters to come, I can promise you this!
It will work up to M, no worries.
Light dispels into an airy sheen; unable to properly burst through the heavy haze of smoke as groups of men occupy the corners in small chattering groups, cigars and cigarettes tilted high into the air from puckered lips, and sly grins. Hanging lamps flicker steadily, in sequence with shaking tables, chairs, and the flash of the sign outside that once fully read, "Breezy's Bar and Grill", the z and y long retired, and in need of a bulb change (though it would take a brave soul to climb the creaky ladder to fix it.) The streets outside were just as busy as the inside of the degenerating pub, if not twice as such.
"Well that sure is something Jones!" A man draped his arms around another, grinning cheekily before taking another swig of ale, face contorting for a split second, before sighing and pushing the empty mug to the center of the table with skilled fingers. "Look at you, all caught up in all that sea-folk talk! S'what you're in school for, right?"
Another man threw his head back in deep laughter, smile bright, and hair tousling softly. "Isn't it? Who knew they're basically half-conscious all the time, I mean, even workin' with half their brain at a time, they're smarter than most of the people I know! They're such amazing creatures-" There was a pregnant pause as he tapped the rim of the glass in thought. "-I can't wait to work with em' this summer-and yeah, my first year ends in a few days!"
There was more laughter, a pat on the back, and a screech of chair legs on the old wood flooring as the college student made his way to the bar for what was assumed to be another round for his party of guests. He ignored the sudden rush of heat that rolled up his spine, dropping the mugs on the counter with a loud clink, grin crooked, but bright and slightly apologetic. "Another round, please!"
The mugs were quickly refilled and paid for before the bartender could have gotten a good look at his face, or even the slightest bit of eye contact.
Which was good, he thought, because he might have done something he shouldn't have.
He huffed, quickly grabbing his jacket and making a dash for the door before someone could have noticed (not that they honestly would have) his pupils now blown wide enough to cause suspicion, and flushed face.
Francis could handle the shift himself, he decided.