One shot and the whiskey goes down, down, down Bottom of the bottle hits

It was late night the chick whom he had just ditched stood in shock as he left. He wasn't interested in sex, not the kind that was quick and meaningless. He had had enough of that! For once he wanted sex to be connected with something more. Not that Stark often maintained a relationship, in fact almost never. He supposed he used to have a relationship with Loki. Used to. Not any more.

The uncomfortable bar stool didn't help to improve his mood. He should have just gone home. This was too public. He had tried to look like any other ordinary bar attender but he was already attracting looks. Having his face plastered all over the city was a major rush but once in a while, a grand while mind you, it had it's draw backs.

Taking a sip from his nearly empty cup, the fifth if he remembered right, Tony's head sank to the counter. It felt good, the alcohol running wiled through his system blocking out all thoughts. The familiar haze set on his mind as he became gradually less aware of his surroundings. Every thing was beginning to blur together. How many drinks had he ordered? What time was it?

There was a clock on the wall behind the fat guy running the bar but the hands wouldn't stay still. Some times there was three and sometimes there was six. Tony laughed thinking of how confusing it would bee if all the clocks acted like that. Nobody would ever know what time it was!