[ It's shamefully late. Even the flickering neon seems to crack under the weight of the hour, sulfurous yellows and the bright, vivid LED blues spilling out of storefronts, illuminating the occasional drunk on a stoop. Cold, stark light, incapable of holding the same warmth as the bars on Bourbon Street that he may never actually see again.
Red Wings suffuses the damp asphalt with primary colors, the holographic OPEN sign switched to CLOSED. Nate pings his ID on the sensor and lets himself inside, the twisted metal of the door from the monster assault creaking reluctantly as it slides shut behind him.
They've long since swept up the glass but it doesn't feel the same as when he first walked in: changed, irreparably, like its most frequent customers. Sliding behind the bar Nate reaches for a glass, setting it on the counter before looking to the stock on the shelves in indecision.
Maybe it would be better to remain sober for this. ]
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Red Wings suffuses the damp asphalt with primary colors, the holographic OPEN sign switched to CLOSED. Nate pings his ID on the sensor and lets himself inside, the twisted metal of the door from the monster assault creaking reluctantly as it slides shut behind him.
They've long since swept up the glass but it doesn't feel the same as when he first walked in: changed, irreparably, like its most frequent customers. Sliding behind the bar Nate reaches for a glass, setting it on the counter before looking to the stock on the shelves in indecision.
Maybe it would be better to remain sober for this. ]