Drown Your Troubles

[daniel_stacy]

The sharp end of a dart whizzed through the air until it sunk solidly into cork. The quill vibrated in place. "Bullseye!" proclaimed its drunken thrower as he threw his hands in the air. Victory was his, assuming that darts were meant to hit a 'For Sale or Rent' board posted two feet from the game board. Daniel lumbered over and pulled the point from an ad for a 1976 Chevrolet with 40,000 miles on the odometer.

Hey... not a bad looking car.

Blindly, he moved to stab it into the correct spot. The air alongside his ear whistled. Thud. There was stinging pain in his right hand. "Ah! Son of a bitch!" He pulled the dart from the soft flesh between his knuckles. "You meant ta do that!" he accused an unknown assailant.


[Thread: Open to Anyone]

Comments

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel was surprised. Impressed, even. "A'right, man. No argument here." Especially with his dwindling resources. His buzz was dwindling, too, but he had places to be -- namely, scouting for his next meal -- and he needed his wits about him if he was going to avert a second disaster. "I'm about to head out. You good?"

[whistlersmum]

"I'm good."

At least, for the moment, Whistler was. In the stark light of day, with a blistering hangover that was to come, he might feel different. But he suspected that would be temporary. Like the vampire, the Agent could choose to let his actions define him, not his heritage.