(no subject)

ZOMG I got whacked in the face with a bunny yesterday. It feels so fucking good to write again. And it's a big 'un! Eeeeeeeee.

It wasn't raining.

Which wasn't really that out of the ordinary, but Tico had always been under the impression nights like tonight were supposed to be rainy. Maybe he'd seen too many movies.

The little bar was empty except for a few drunks hunched over the bar who looked like they'd never seen sunlight, a blond with curls playing a piano and singing like someone was actually listening, and the bartender.

Tico sighed and headed towards the bar, tension coiling in his muscles and wrapping around his throat.

Calm, Teek, just stay calm. You're just asking a question, no harm in that.

"Can I help you?"

The bartender - somewhere in his research, Tico had learned his name, but Hell if he could remember it now - was looking at him, and it was just normal "is this a scumbag?" scrutiny but it tightened up all that tension in his muscles until he worried he would fall over.

"Uh, I'm looking for someone."

Silence filled the bar, the last few notes of whatever song the pianist had been so engrossed in fading into nothingness. The bartender just looked at him, and Tico could have sworn one of the barflies was watching him. Fuck.

"You gonna tell me who it is, or do I have to read your mind?" The bartender smirked.

Tico laughed as his muscles relaxed a little - in his head, it sounded shaky and insincere but the bartender just grinned so maybe it was more convincing than he thought.

"Yeah, sorry. Looking for Jon Bon Jovi."

OMGAU.

Back to writing. Ee, writing! It's not like I have 18 million kabillion other thing to do. jknlinbilkrsnilrn. Hotdamn.