Bartholomew
Bart is definitely not a regular. Anywhere in Caido really. But where there's whiskey he's bound to be. Nate had been the one to take up smoking on a regular basis, and though alcohol still reminds him of their deadbeat dad he'd rather sacrifice his liver than his lungs. Can't fuel smartass remarks with a liver, right? It's a little strange, the inherent magic of the place, but Bart is slowly growing used to the fairytale aspects of this new place. Normally he'd bury his head in the sand a little longer - there's certainly an abundance to be found in Torchline, which must be well-used with all the smuggling he's seen - but with his twin being a literal demigod, it's pretty much a requirement to get up to speed.
So really, he's calling this homework. Delicious, burning homework.
It's not like Sunjata and Nate are lacking in the alcohol department back home, but the house is so full at times that Bart needs to escape. Direly unused to the workings of a real family and unwilling to fuck things up with his big mouth and Santa-sized sack of trauma. Plus this way he can start getting used to the faces around town. Bright sides!
Someone taps on his shoulder, and Bart spins halfway in his chair to cast his gaze over his shoulder at the dark-haired woman attached to the hand. By time her words register he's already cocking a crooked grin, one she'll note is identical to Nate's. "We shared'a womb, sure hope we look the same or our dad would have a lot more explainin' to do," drawls off his tongue in an accent thicker than the one Nate has learned to hide. Being mistaken for his twin is nothing new, so he's got plenty of premade quips up his sleeve even if they're dusty from lack of use. Nate dying midway through his life had put a cramp on the comebacks. Gesturing to the chair at his side in invitation, he taps his empty glass on the bar to signal for a refill. "I'm Bartholomew, the more handsome twin."
So really, he's calling this homework. Delicious, burning homework.
It's not like Sunjata and Nate are lacking in the alcohol department back home, but the house is so full at times that Bart needs to escape. Direly unused to the workings of a real family and unwilling to fuck things up with his big mouth and Santa-sized sack of trauma. Plus this way he can start getting used to the faces around town. Bright sides!
Someone taps on his shoulder, and Bart spins halfway in his chair to cast his gaze over his shoulder at the dark-haired woman attached to the hand. By time her words register he's already cocking a crooked grin, one she'll note is identical to Nate's. "We shared'a womb, sure hope we look the same or our dad would have a lot more explainin' to do," drawls off his tongue in an accent thicker than the one Nate has learned to hide. Being mistaken for his twin is nothing new, so he's got plenty of premade quips up his sleeve even if they're dusty from lack of use. Nate dying midway through his life had put a cramp on the comebacks. Gesturing to the chair at his side in invitation, he taps his empty glass on the bar to signal for a refill. "I'm Bartholomew, the more handsome twin."
Lover come hold me, my head's on the fritz
Gaudy intoxicated feelings comfortably mixed
Gaudy intoxicated feelings comfortably mixed
