03-20-2008, 12:28 PM
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indent As soon as the stranger walked in, Ahren looked up. It was not surprise that he gave but a faint sort of dull amusement. They had reclaimed this city as they had in Europe, and this young man was half-clothed as it stood. Once, a long time ago, Ahren had picked up the fashion. Eventually his jeans had worn thin and offered no more protection from the broken glass that cut his feet. He still wore the belt, which hung at his hips dully, sporting the knife and the small pouch. Unless things served a use, Ahren would cast them by the wayside. He did this with people as well as he did with objects.
indent Reaching over to the bottle of wine, Ahren spoke. “Where are you going, all dressed up like that?” It was a comment that sounded amused, because Ahren truly was, but also dripping with sarcasm. He swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol, took a drag on the cigarette, and once more struck the white ball. This time, it collided with a solid purple one and sent it into one of the corner pockets. “You want in?”
indent Reaching over to the bottle of wine, Ahren spoke. “Where are you going, all dressed up like that?” It was a comment that sounded amused, because Ahren truly was, but also dripping with sarcasm. He swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol, took a drag on the cigarette, and once more struck the white ball. This time, it collided with a solid purple one and sent it into one of the corner pockets. “You want in?”