[As if Dorian would turn down a nice party and free drinks. What do you take him for? Of course he went to the bar as soon as he could, of course he's been indulging. Dorian has plenty of practice when it comes to drinking, though - he's not quite to the point of over-indulging yet, though with the right companions he could easily be coaxed in that direction.
He's holding a glass of wine. Though not his first, it's still relatively early in the night - he'll really get started later. He leans against the bar, wine in one hand, looking rather content.]
Finally, something nice about this place.
b: a nice night for an evening (march 28th)
[Dorian's had a bit too much of people for now. He's got a bottle of something - not wine, something harder - and he's making his way from the bar to... well, he's not sure. He thought of the library at first, perhaps his liquor-sodden mind will be able to make sense of the books in a way he can't right now, but when he got there he just kept right on walking. The strange, alien music thumps through the air, and Dorian considers for a moment how deeply unpleasant it might be if he weren't drunk.
But he is, so that's nice. But rather than a social drunk, at the moment he's feeling more thoughtful, more contemplative.
Maybe he'll go to the park. That might be nice. He pauses, looks around him.]
Oh. Where am I?
[Faced with this conundrum, there's nothing to do but drink, and so he does.]
dorian pavus | open
[As if Dorian would turn down a nice party and free drinks. What do you take him for? Of course he went to the bar as soon as he could, of course he's been indulging. Dorian has plenty of practice when it comes to drinking, though - he's not quite to the point of over-indulging yet, though with the right companions he could easily be coaxed in that direction.
He's holding a glass of wine. Though not his first, it's still relatively early in the night - he'll really get started later. He leans against the bar, wine in one hand, looking rather content.]
Finally, something nice about this place.
b: a nice night for an evening (march 28th)
[Dorian's had a bit too much of people for now. He's got a bottle of something - not wine, something harder - and he's making his way from the bar to... well, he's not sure. He thought of the library at first, perhaps his liquor-sodden mind will be able to make sense of the books in a way he can't right now, but when he got there he just kept right on walking. The strange, alien music thumps through the air, and Dorian considers for a moment how deeply unpleasant it might be if he weren't drunk.
But he is, so that's nice. But rather than a social drunk, at the moment he's feeling more thoughtful, more contemplative.
Maybe he'll go to the park. That might be nice. He pauses, looks around him.]
Oh. Where am I?
[Faced with this conundrum, there's nothing to do but drink, and so he does.]