Show me the way to the next whiskey bar

[Heath morte dre Soul]

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Heath asked because this was a bar, not one of those nice places with red linen tablecloths. Not the type of place that was stalked with wine or even those sweet liquors and thin necked glasses. This place had no green felt covered tables, no dance floor. It was full of dark corners to get lost in, a few small booths that held deadly and dirty secrets. This wasn’t the place for a beast that believed in love, someone favored by his mother and wondering if kissing and hand holding were the only things to do with a woman. That was why he asked. Not like he was concerned, if Haven wanted to loose himself to the sin then Heath would let him. Encourage and join him. Ignoring his loose words Heath climbed over the bar and pulled a bottle from the shelf. Shaking his head he looked at the label. Not satisfied he took another and another until the words read the name that began with two slanted lines. The V was all he knew, and he smiled when he found it. Climbing down he looked back to Haven. He spoke. True, true. The words came while he opened the bottle and removed the cap, letting it fall to the floor. There would be no need for it. I’m just looking for this. taking it to his mouth Heath let the prized bottle fall heavily on the bar after a long slow draw. You a fag now? Heath looked at him sideways, one finger pointing loosely to the gold earring that was held in the white ear of the hybrid. Maybe that was why he was down? If Heath didn’t like woman anymore he would look just as horrible.

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