It was so unbecoming to drink alone, but the bar wasn't precisely the sort of place where Varyx had to worry all that much about being seen by the wrong people. Not that she was behaving particularly badly yet. There were two empty glasses in front of her, but they were the only indication that she wasn't sober. That, and her usually perfect posture had relaxed a little into a slight slouch while she was playing with her phone.
She didn't look a mess, exactly, because Varyx never looked a mess. But she didn't look much like herself, either. Hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed since this morning was hanging loose around her shoulders. Plainly dressed, in a t-shirt and jeans. Little make-up. Distracted. There was a furrow in her brow that didn't appear to be loosening, no matter how long one looked at her. And oh, there were people looking. A beautiful woman, alone at a bar for nearly half an hour? That was already enough to draw attention. That she had the look of someone who was coming out of a bad breakup really only made it worse.
She was drawing pickup-lines from the sort of men who made it their business to be a woman's rebound. Her patience was already thin enough without having to tell off a steady stream of drunks promising her "the time of her life," as if any of them looked like they could last more than two minutes in bed.
Perhaps she was being unfair to them. Not that she cared overmuch.
The only thing that ever drew her attention from her phone was the motion of the door opening, always visible in her peripheral. Every time the motion caught her attention, she hoped to see a familiar face coming through the door. She was getting sick of drinking alone.
July