[ Sam's at Red Wings, the way he often is, a rough-faced guy in his mid-forties with a visible prison tattoo on his neck sitting at the bar in an unbuttoned button-down and a t-shirt. Receding hairline, more wrinkles than are probably worth counting, plenty of scars, and arms that manage to hit both "lanky" and "muscular" at the same time. Oh, and knuckle tattoos, that classiest of classy life choices, that read SELF MADE.
You know, a catch. Every girl's dream, that Sam Drake.
He turns his attention toward the woman who asks, an easy grin coming to his face like he's heard the question a million times before. Maybe he has. He leans an elbow against the bartop like he's the hottest shit in town and answers that accent of hers with something just a little too Boston not to be noticeable. ]
I could be convinced. [ Who wouldn't be? Just look at her--okay, the earrings aren't exactly his thing, but the rest of her sure is. Even if Sam's not necessarily big on blondes, he's not strictly opposed, either, especially when they show up with a coy look and a flirtatious edge. ] What're you drinking?
[ For his part, he's got a dark and stormy tonight, partway drunk. A half-eaten bowl of the meal of the day, some kind of curry he's disinclined to interrogate too closely, sits next to it. ]
drinks
You know, a catch. Every girl's dream, that Sam Drake.
He turns his attention toward the woman who asks, an easy grin coming to his face like he's heard the question a million times before. Maybe he has. He leans an elbow against the bartop like he's the hottest shit in town and answers that accent of hers with something just a little too Boston not to be noticeable. ]
I could be convinced. [ Who wouldn't be? Just look at her--okay, the earrings aren't exactly his thing, but the rest of her sure is. Even if Sam's not necessarily big on blondes, he's not strictly opposed, either, especially when they show up with a coy look and a flirtatious edge. ] What're you drinking?
[ For his part, he's got a dark and stormy tonight, partway drunk. A half-eaten bowl of the meal of the day, some kind of curry he's disinclined to interrogate too closely, sits next to it. ]