Untitled-unfinished
"What is that song you're playing?" he asked from the shadows. Smoke rings betrayed his location neatly tucked away in a corner of the bar.
"Children of the Damned" I replied searching to find his eyes.
I saw him move, and watched as he appeared under a gaslight.
The blue gas light reflected from his eyes as he moved out of the shadows turning them a darker shade of green, almost black.
"Are you?" he asked flicking ash with a lazy hand onto the floor.
"Am I what?" I asked.
"Damned?" as he spoke he looked straight into my eyes.
I felt my smile, the corners of my lips turned upwards.
"Do I look like I'm damned?" I quizzed, if he wanted to play, I could play with him.
He shrugged "You're sat there with the sleeves and neck ripped off your Metallica shirt, grim reaper tattooed on your arm. Playing acoustic guitar in a dead end bar in a dead part of town with a rat for company" he exhaled more smoke "I'd say you were either damned or stupid".
I set my guitar to one side and rose from my chair.
"I ain't stupid and rats don't scare me" I replied reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle of Tequila.
I saw him raise his eyebrows.
"What?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm "You think stupid can't drink?"
He walked over and upturned two shot glasses "Y'already said you ain't stupid", he stubbed out his smoke.
I poured two shots; we saluted one another before sinking the burning fluid.
He leaned past my left shoulder, our skin brushed briefly.
He reached for my guitar.
"Be careful" I offered "She bites"
I saw his smile.
"If I play, will you dance for me?" he whispered deep and low in his throat.
"That depends" I replied
"On?" He countered, lighting another cigarette.
"On whether you're any good" I grinned.
"Baby, I'm the best".