How I Met:
your mother, death, destroyer of worlds
thebluefrenchhorn
"Scotch?" An accented voice murmured thoughtfully. Damon looked sideways to see a small slip of a girl seat herself upon the barstool beside his own, thin frame teetering upon it precariously as she leaned forward to balance her forearms upon the alcohol-stained counter. "A wonderful choice. I'll have one as well."
The bartender looked dubiously at her for a second, perhaps contemplating whether to ask her to produce an ID or not, before wandering off to assumedly fetch her drink.
Damon was a bit less convinced and instead regarded the burgundy haired woman with amusement. "A bit young to be drinking, aren't you?"
The girl shrugged, her vivid green gaze turning to meet his own icy blue. "I could say the same about you."
Damon smirked. "Now, I don't believe that's true," he said, waving his finger pointedly, glass of scotch swirling around in his other hand like a maelstrom of gold. "Because I'm twenty-four and you don't look a day over seventeen."
The girl clucked her tongue, almost mockingly and though she wore an oversized jumper that practically consumed her small form, her presence seemed to almost dwarf his in that moment.
"Ah, but looks can be deceiving," she murmured, voice a soft whisper. "You'd know a lot about that wouldn't you, Mr. Vampire?"
Author's Note: It's late at night and I should be sleeping, but I suppose instead I'll be writing about Damon and Hariel Potter drinking. We'll see where this drabble series goes.
Disclaimer: format loosely based off of the one used in That One Night