Killing Time (Closed RP; Curt and Malcolm. I mean, Percy.)
Fucking shit.
An entire pack of Marlboro's into the night and things were going a whole lot of nowhere. Curt didn't know what the hell he was trying to get out of these bars sometimes, but it was just something to do. Something. Ended up with a lot of him hanging around, surrounded by drugged out kids who thought listening to Asia made them the punkest thing since the 80's hit the world. Which, fun fact: it did not. But it could be amusing to note, time to time, at least.
Unfortunately, this was not a time. To time. And instead there was just an ex-rocker irritably puffing away at a Marlboro Red 100, glass still sitting beside him on the bar with a little dregs of whiskey sloshed inside. Some girl making eyes at him from across the room, but considering it was the one who'd bumped into him earlier and nearly spilled her beer all down his front, asking him if he was Keith Richards or something. ...Yeah, he'd pass.
Curt took a drag and stubbed out the cigarette into the ash tray, overflowing with crumpled roaches.
He needed a distraction.