The Morgensterns: One Shots

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: ʙʟᴀᴋᴇ

chapter five: blake

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february 17, 2022
pennington
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Blake looked at the bartender making his drink for what felt like the millionth time that night.

Just as the bartender finished making Blake's drink and slid it to him, Blake chugged it down, not wasting one second.

Blake was in a very bad mood. And he was in a potential enemy territory. But Blake couldn't care less about his life tonight.

Tonight was going to be about him drowning his sorrows and frustration into drinks and any potential candidate he would like to take to bed.

Blake looked at the glass in sorrow.

How had he come to this?

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes for the third time in the past half an hour and looked around the bar, hoping to find someone he could spend the night with.

And that was when he saw her.

Blood red hair with piercing green eyes, taller than most men around her who were gawking shamelessly as she bent to place the cue stick on the pool table.

She seemed familiar, Blake realised. A misplaced, long lost memory he could not recall properly.

He watched calmly as she kept on scoring, showing the players around the pool that she was the boss of the game, and that she wasn't going to go down anytime soon.

Blake knew by the amount he had had to drink, he would easily forget her name and face the next morning. And that was precisely what he needed.

He was about to walk up to the redhead when suddenly her eyes turned to his. Blake felt a hole in his chest as she looked him impassively, before making her way toward him.

But only when she had reached the bar did he realise why she had come over.

"Madera," she ordered as she slid into the seat beside him. Though initially she paid Blake no attention, her eyes observing the lively bar.

Her red wine came, and she slowly drank it, fully aware of Blake's eyes on her, and Blake fully aware of her knowing it.

He leaned in and softly said, "You remind me of someone." The redhead turned to him and gave him a lazy smirk, "An old flame perhaps?"

Blake shook his head slowly, trying to remember who it was that the girl reminded him of.

"No, no. She was more of a friend of mine," he said, his gaze afar, distinctly trying to place his thoughts.

"Well, her loss then," the redhead said as she finished the rest of her wine. "Cleo," she called out to the other bartender, a girl just a few years younger than Blake.

She looked up from her task and the redhead asked, "How much has he had to drink?" The girl looked at Blake before shrugging and then resumed her work.

The redhead smiled and shook her head. "Pretty smile you have," Blake muttered thoughtlessly and the redhead instantly dropped her smile.

"Cleo, put the room on my charge. This young man needs some shut eye," she called out to which the bartender simply grumbled.

The redhead paid no further attention to anyone but Blake, as she tried to safely transport the drunk to the room on the above floor.

After much difficulty, when she had finally succeeded in her task, the redhead took a moment to look at the drunk man sitting on the bed.

Tears in his eyes, she almost felt bad for him.

But then she remembered who he was, and what all he had done. The problems he had caused her father, and the problems he would cause her if she let the case continue further.

But tonight was a fail.

He was too drunk, and she was too tired to deal with ghosts from her past.

So she gave him one last look, touching the gun sitting in her hidden holster just below her waist, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

On the other side, Blake looked at the door and whispered, "Thalia?"

-
(unedited)