Snippet #841425

Taking a breath, Simon let out a short laugh while the bartender - or rather, Shannon - served another customer. His initial instinct was to politely take his leave and get home as fast as he could. But, he supposed, what was waiting for him? His cat? (Yes, actually, his cat would be waiting. Timothy probably needed to be fed. But the cat could wait for a couple minutes, right? And, really, the cat was pretty self sufficient. Cats can catch mice, can't they? And- oh dear. He was even rambling in his third person monologue.) At this point, he had no chance of getting home before dark anyways. "Might as well just wait for the next bus," he muttered to himself. If he did that, he had at least half an hour to waste here.

After all, how much harm could one drink do?

He sat down and allowed himself to relax. When Shannon returned and repeated his offer, Simon said, "Yes, actually. Can I get a virgin screwdriver?" (Somehow, just saying "orange juice" wasn't satisfying enough.) As much as he wanted to get wasted, Simon had to work tomorrow, and early morning coffee patrons were annoying enough without a hangover. Then there was his habit of completely losing track of time when he got drunk... But anyways. So orange juice it was.