Two Whiskeys on the Rocks

From Meeting to Dating

PICTURE THIS AS BONES WHEN THEY FIRST MEET, ONLY SCRUFFIER, KAY? AND LOOKING MORE DEPRESSED, TOO. FOR SOME REASON, KARL URBAN NEVER LOOKS BAD IN PICTURES! XD ANYWAY, APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE FOR THE LANGUAGE, BUT IT'S BONES, SO...HAS TO BE DONE.

THAT BEING SAID, HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

Being a bartender means you learn a lot about the utter depravity men are capable of. Women, too. Humans in general- -though aliens are not without guilt, as well- -can be ruthless to each other, petty and embittered to the point of brutal vengeance on their wrong-doers.

That being said, I oftentimes find myself feeling for the victims, left to pick themselves up after all was said and done. Alcohol seemed a popular coping mechanism among our kind (and several species of aliens, too). Then he walked in. He sat at the bar and ordered two whiskeys on the rocks, puffy eyes mainly denoting lack of sleep. "Damn woman..." He groans, shooting an entire whiskey straight back. He was quite handsome with his square jaw, slightly grown out black hair, and the lukewarm dark brown eyes of someone who's been dragged through the Seven Rings of Hell in mere hours. "Taking the entire planet with her!" He says, shooting the other drink back.

"Slow down; you'll get alcohol poisoning." I tease, unable to help it. He merely scoffs and orders two more drinks. Sighing, I refill his glasses and hand them back. "So, mind telling a humble bartenders your troubles?" I ask, leaning my elbows on the counter. The man sighs.

"First, I think I should introduce myself." That wasn't uncommon, but something about this guy made my heart skip a beat. He was so...genuinely polite. A good person who'd just been dragged through the mud. "Leonard McCoy, soon to be Doctor McCoy." I nod.

"Rowena Scot, about to be Nurse Pike." I tell him.

"You're enlisting, too?" He asks. I nod.

"Yeah, soon as I study some more. Dad wasn't thrilled when I told him, but it's what I want, so Mom talked him off the ledge, so to speak." Leonard nods, sucking back a drink. He then smirks and slides the other to me. I roll my eyes. "Good heavens, you're bold." I tease. It wasn't the first time I was chatted up or hit on by a patron at the bar, after all. I slide the drink back. "I'm still working, Leo." Leonard frowns.

"'Leo'?" He parrots, looking like he's sucking a lemon. I chuckle.

"Yeah. Shorter than 'Leonard'." I say with a shrug. I then turn and serve another patron and by the time I get back to Leonard's chair, I am left with four empty whiskey glasses and a money note with a handwritten one tucked under it.

Been fun meeting you, Rowena. Way things are going, might be seeing more of you. So, here's my vidscreen information.

Listed below that was the series of numbers and letters that would sync our two vidscreens. Again, this wasn't the first time this had happened, but this was the first time I pocketed the note. After Monty was...reassigned...I'd been getting more and more lonely. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to.

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Next time I saw him, I was waiting for patrons. It was a slow day, and I was incredibly bored at only two hours into my shift. He was suddenly seated at the bar.

"Two whiskeys, on the rocks." He croaks, and I take a second to drink in just how bad he'd gotten in the two days since I'd last seen him. He hadn't shaved or trimmed his hair, he hadn't showered, and he was wearing the same clothes. As I am pouring the drinks, his fists slam on the counter, startling me a little, and I almost spill the whiskey. "The nerve of that woman! Actin' like it's all my fault!" He slurs, downing a drink as easily as he had last time, but I knew those puffy eyes were from crying and too much drinking (but mainly drinking), not just lack of sleep.