see the devil living in those eyes

Dark eyes watched the dull embers the end of the cigarette pointed directly at the late evening sky. Smoking, what a wretched habit. Truthfully, he didn't see the appeal of it, not really, despite the fact he had a cigarette perched in his hand. The man frowned as his thoughts swirled around, a conflict brewing though over what exactly he wasn't sure. Perhaps it was simply brewing because recent events had done nothing but carry a heavy promise of abrupt and unwelcome change in what seemed nearly every facet of his life - from work to relationships, which often seemed one and the same for him. He huffed before tilting his hand to flick the ash from the cigarette before lifting it to his lips to inhale a deep breath. As Spencer held the smoke in his lungs, feeling that uncomfortable burn, his thoughts shuffled around uncomfortably again.

In what seemed a ridiculously short span of time he had a customer turn him into an unwitting accomplice, saw someone who was comfortably simple-faceted dare to show him vulnerability, had a series of bad news dropped in his lap that he wasn't even willing to consider at the moment and, to top it off, he was thinking it may be time for a change in workplace. Sure, he probably invited that unwitting accomplice thing since he let the woman's initial actions go without comment and now she probably thought she could get away doing anything with impunity. He'll accept that was on him, though he would have to address and change that. That experience had been exhausting to say the least. On the other hand, his work... It wasn't that his job was bad... It was actually quite decent. The problem came in that he wanted more freedom, more flexibility, more time. Actually, that was all probably a lie. What it truly boiled down into was that Spencer... was bored. God he was bored. Things that used to bring satisfaction were now lacking and he needed something. He wasn't entirely sure what, but he needed something.

Blame it on the abrupt changes causing this restlessness that seeped into his bones, making everything suddenly too much yet not enough at the same time. Why was he so anxious though? Maybe it had something to do with the last time there were uncontrolled changes in rapid succession he had lost everything and ended up having to move cities. That was probably an extreme event, but he really didn't want a repeat. He put out the remainder of the cigarette so that he could instead fill his hand with the glass holding some cocktail or another. It had a name, it was just that he hadn't paid much attention when selecting it off the menu and so now he was drinking something that he was vaguely sure may have vodka and... something. It didn't matter. It wasn't really like he could taste it all that much; the trade off for his immunity.

He took a sip as he forced himself out of his thoughts to actually take notice of his surroundings for the first time in far too long. His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, looking for anyone that may stand out as well as just the actual environment around him. He hadn't really paid too much attention where he had stopped, selecting a random place because he needed a drink now. The thin crowd had begun to fill, especially the interior he observed from his table on the patio, the place more popular than he had initially thought. Hm, at least he would be able to watch and maybe have something to distract himself with that wasn't his thoughts. Or perhaps he should just head home, lose himself in his garden. He had orders to fulfill, after all. Then again, the only way he would actually be able to fulfill them was to use his magic to spur on the growth of certain plants and he just didn't feel like it. He should but he wouldn't. No, he would sit here, sipping on this nameless concoction and slowly begin to lose himself to his thoughts about why he was so goddamned bored.

single | warlock | notes: