This Place Is Death

¡Viva Daron!

[ EXPECT ERRORS! ]

--

The man stares at himself in the mirror. Sighing. What will he ever do with his life? Just sit around in his room rotting away, writing stupid songs and poetry, having the slight chance of having a mental breakdown because of the thought of dying alone? Nah, he'd rather not do that. There's better things to do like.. like going to the bar. Well- it's not exactly better to drink your problems away but Serj doesn't think of it that way. He just wants some fresh air- really. Maybe to find a couple of new friends. Or future significant others. (And I'm saying that because this guy is bisexual!)

He slowly takes his shirt off, his eyes still glued onto the mirror, staring at his body. He never really liked it too much- during sex he'd keep his shirt on (even if it was 1000 degrees) because it'd make him uncomfortable if he took it off. He'd also think whoever he was fucking would get turned off by him. In fact, most of his exes hadn't even seen him with his shirt off. It was a struggle.

Sometimes he wishes he was as confident as those guys who would tear off their shirt at the beach, revealing a sexy body everyone would flock to and admire and compliment. Why couldn't that be him? Why did he have to hate his body so much? Why was he cursed by Jesus himself to be insecure?

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before getting up from his bed and reaching inside his wardrobe for something to wear. It shouldn't be too formal or too casual. He wouldn't want to go out looking like King Charles the III - but he also wouldn't want to go out looking like Adam Sandler to put in simpler terms. Something more on the casual side.

A plain black shirt along with turtle-neck jacket should do.

Before putting his clothes on, he rolls on some deodorant, obviously for hygiene, and then slips his shirt on, then putting on his jacket before zipping it all the way up. He stares at the mirror again. "Ugh, no." he sighs, realizing his pants (which were sweat pants) don't really match his whole 'aesthetic' for his outfit. He sighs a long sigh, rummaging through his wardrobe to find pants he wore pretty often. Once found, he obviously stripped and put them on.

They were black dress pants with these light grey stripes going vertically. Serj also puts on a black belt, and these black dress shoes, his outfit now completed. He looks at himself in the mirror once again. He smiles.

Serj creepily states at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before realizing he probably looks a bit too 'fancy' for going to a bar. Oh, well.

He grabs his cologne, (that he had gotten from a friend) spraying on a generous amount before messing with his hair a bit. But halfway through- he stopped, realizing his hair looked fine the way it was and didn't really need to do much with it. "Alright. Ready to get some pussy." Serj jokes around with himself, pausing for a second.

"Or ass." he shrugs.

He snatches his keys and walks out his bedroom door, then his front.

---

The bar was loud since people were screaming at some hockey game (which he could care less about) that was playing on the TVs. It was becoming unbearable.

There was one TV in front of Serj (which he was looking at) and a few more scattered around the bar.

He took a sip of his beer. There was a couple of guys sitting by him on the stools on his left, some sweaty, big, buff, guys. They also had this odd stench coming from them. BO? Serj scrunched his nose slightly. He peeped at his right side.