(Sorry my starters are so lengthy! I usually do that to paint a decently clear scene and picture of the character.)
“Can I get you another drink, sir?”
The bartender’s soft voice broke through Rigel’s daze. He blinked, realizing that he’d been staring down at his three-fourths empty glass for a little too long. Only his first drink— he wasn’t even drunk yet. Just lost in thought.
“Yeah.” He barely glanced at the bartender as he pushed the glass towards her and sat up straight. “Thanks.”
A quick look around the room reminded him how crowded the place was getting, loud with the bustle of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the counter and let out a sigh. There hadn’t been so many when he arrived only a little over twenty minutes ago; maybe the commotion was his cue to just go home for the night.
The lady bartender placed a new beer in front of him. “Here you go.”
Rigel nodded and pulled it towards himself. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” the woman said. A beat of silence passed between them. “You here all by yourself tonight, hon?”
“Mhm.” His attention remained fixed on the drink. He watched a bead of water trail down the side of the glass.
“That’s sad. Seems pretty lonely. You’re not married?” the woman inquired. Rigel gave her a skeptical look to see that she was eyeing his left hand— barren ring finger— as it rested on the counter next to his glass. He self consciously pulled his hand away and hid it by resting it on his knee.
“Not sure why that matters.”
“It doesn’t, I guess.” The woman smirked a little. She was probably in her mid thirties— maybe older with a youthful appearance. “No girlfriend either? Or boyfriend?”
“No,” Rigel said dryly, “but I’m not interested.”
“Hm.” The woman didn’t seem all that disappointed. “Well, if you change your mind, you let me know.” She offered him a little wink before hurrying off to go take someone else’s order and flirt with the other patrons.
Rigel let out a quiet huff of aggravation and lifted the beer to his mouth. He hated the smell— and the taste— but it was a distraction. An escape, of sorts. He downed almost the entire glass in about three gulps and set the glass back down on the counter a little too forcefully. Wretched taste, but it’d take a few more to get the kind of effect he came for.
Anything to shut his mind up.