for Fred - pretty as a picture
Jul. 28th, 2014 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisevilhandLindsey'd never planned on making a living with music, and if you asked him, he still wasn't. But until the Darrow Bar Association decided he'd passed their damn exam and had earned the right to practice law in the city, playing at one bar or another paid the bills and passed the time.
Lindsey wasn't the type to get attached, even to the point of having favorite places to play, but to the extent he did, Semele's was somewhere high on the list, mostly for the enforced neutrality and the mix of patrons, supernatural and otherwise. The crowd seemed to like him well enough too, which didn't hurt. And while it was more likely someone here would look twice at the ink spiraling up both arms, they also wouldn't start anything over it, so leaving the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows was nothing except maybe a litmus test to satisfy his curiosity.
It wasn't Caritas, but sometimes it felt kinda the same - and without Angel and friends popping up to interrupt Lindsey's singing or drinking any time they felt like it.
After his set, he stowed his guitar and found himself a seat at the bar. He nodded a "thanks, man," for the bourbon that found its way in front of him and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long enough he ought to think about cutting it, especially if he was going to be in a courtroom again soon, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He kinda liked it long.
Lindsey wasn't the type to get attached, even to the point of having favorite places to play, but to the extent he did, Semele's was somewhere high on the list, mostly for the enforced neutrality and the mix of patrons, supernatural and otherwise. The crowd seemed to like him well enough too, which didn't hurt. And while it was more likely someone here would look twice at the ink spiraling up both arms, they also wouldn't start anything over it, so leaving the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows was nothing except maybe a litmus test to satisfy his curiosity.
It wasn't Caritas, but sometimes it felt kinda the same - and without Angel and friends popping up to interrupt Lindsey's singing or drinking any time they felt like it.
After his set, he stowed his guitar and found himself a seat at the bar. He nodded a "thanks, man," for the bourbon that found its way in front of him and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long enough he ought to think about cutting it, especially if he was going to be in a courtroom again soon, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He kinda liked it long.
