˗ˏˋOur Differences Sequelˊˎ˗

-27-

The loud commotion of the casino mixed with the ungodly amount of alcohol that I had consumed sent me into something close to mania— or at least that's what it felt like.

Dylan and I linked arms while walking down Bourbon Street, laughing occasionally in our drunken state because we looked like a gay couple. It was close to 2:00 in the morning, and the streets of New Orleans would never, ever allow you to know that.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks and bent down just off of the side of the walkway, the upper half of my body coming close to crashing down if it weren't for Dylan holding me for his own stability and mine.
I hurled aimlessly, vomiting on the edge of the sidewalk— the result of drinking way more than my body needed me to drink.

Dylan laughed as people walked past us, glancing at me as I puked up my lungs helplessly. I attempted to stand back up, now dizzy from bending over so intensely to avoid getting vomit on my clothes. At least I had a little bit of respect for myself.

"Dude," Dylan chuckled idiotically as we continued to trudge down the street, wobbling and tripping on our own feet.
"There's a bar right up there. We need to go there-"

He pointed his finger lazily, his words slurring together. Of course, I was down to go to the bar as well. Nobody gives a fuck about anything when they're drunk.
And I was very drunk.

Someone swung open the front entrance door, holding it open out of hospitality for Dylan and I's inability to hold a door open currently. I mumbled a thank you and smiled at the college aged girl who had an entire bottle of rum in her hand. We entered the bar and shuffled our way towards the counter, sitting down in 2 stools that were directly next to each other. The bartender, who was a tall, lanky guy, made his way towards us.

"Having a good night?" he asked pleasantly.
This guy was a ray of sunshine. He had a stack of playing cards sticking out of his pocket, drawing my attention in immediately.

"Yes. What's in your pocket?" I asked, pointing probably rudely.

The guy only smiled, proving to me that he was definitely begging for someone to notice and ask. Maybe I should've shut the hell up to not give him the satisfaction of getting to show off. Whatever.

"Pick a card.... Any card!" he recited with enthusiasm.

Dylan started chuckling out of amusement, and I almost took the entire deck just to cause a scene.

"I already know how this trick goes." I lied, just because I didn't want to see it.

The guy pushed his shaggy blonde hair out of his face.
"No worries, I've got more."

He proceeded to shuffle the cards around like they were glued to his hands and wouldn't go anywhere. They didn't, and I admit, it was impressive.
He spread the cards out on the surface of the bar in front of him, smirking as he laid eye contact with us.

Another bartender appeared behind him, snatching all of the cards up angrily.
"Goddamnit, Karson! We've got angry drunks that want to be served. Put the cards away, for fucks sakes!"

Karson looked at the strict prick of a bitch with a pout. At first, I thought his card trick was lame and bullshitty, but it grew on me after 10 seconds. I admittedly wanted to see more. Guess there won't be anymore.

"Whatcha two boys want to drink?" the angry guy asked us as Karson retreated to the storage room depressively. Poor guy.

"Whiskey on the rocks." Dylan murmured bitterly like an old man. I started laughing hysterically.

"Oh yeah. Me too." I added in.

The guy furrowed his eyebrows at us with skepticism before walking away to prepare our drinks. I was having the time of my life.