Elegantly Wasted | ✓

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The low hum of chatter filled the thick, piquant air of liquor and bodily odour of the tiresome businessmen desperately fleeing from their loathed jobs, as well as the regular blokes cracking open a cold beer with mates to watch the latest football match.

The dim setting messed with Vivian's intoxicated vision.

She swirled her Bordeaux glass of red wine—the same sparkling red vin ordinaire she always ordered when she needed to completely discard her memory of the last few hours—in hopes of at least finding something interesting in it, like a fly, to keep her mind off the treacherous day that was causing her insane sense of fatigue.

She was tired of her life. Vivian didn't really like it. There was nothing really to excite her, the majority of new events occurring in her life seemed to just lead to more disaster and disappointment that continued to weigh on her shoulders.

She wished she could blame someone for the things she'd gone through. Though, she didn't have that at all; so she blamed herself, and the wine.

Drinking wasn't the best for her mental health, she'd noticed, but it was the only way for her to at least find peace in herself before it came crashing down the second after.

So she swirled her wine. Her eyes glanced along the bar table and all the empty seats beside her, even the bartender had left her unattended as though he wanted nothing to do with her. She mentally scoffed and sipped her wine with the imaginary fly in it.

Today could be described as a slow day for her. Work wasn't too worrying, she liked her job, it was one of the few things she liked; working in the design and marketing facility was something she was passionate about since she was in secondary school and finished the majority of her exams. She was quite creative with new ideas and was incredibly dexterous when it came to sketching out her thoughts. It seemed the problem was more to do with the people she had to deal with.

Vivian would consider herself an introvert, or maybe just a little too reserved and lost in her own thoughts. She didn't socialise with her colleagues at work, she would buy her food and get herself lost in a novel. Books were good friends of hers, she liked their company more than anything else.

Many of her colleagues would just make her question the number of brain cells she still had remaining after conversing for less than five minutes. Indifferently, she had no bother with telling them exactly that. She kept herself distant before they began to hate her even more from just that.

She took another sip of her wine, closing her eyes and letting the thick alcohol run through her body.

"Yo, boss," she heard from behind her. She looked to her right to find a tall, handsomely-dressed, black man. His hair was neatly braided into cornrows and a tamed beard covered his jaw. The bartender arrived hastily to his call, "get me a glass of Henny, yeah." The native, British slang laced his deep voice. He placed a £10 note on the bar table and then took a seat in the stool beside Vivian. The bartender snatched the money and obeyed his request.

She wanted to be discreet with her staring because she couldn't deny that she wanted to take a long look at him. Seemed that she wasn't doing particularly well, when his dark eyes met hers.

He furrowed his brows and she quickly looked away. "Is that your way of asking me to buy you a drink?" he questioned. There was a look of distaste that sat on Vivian's face, as he said it.

"Assume as you will." she started, lifting her glass up. "Not all women sat at the bar are trying to grab a quick, free drink."

"Assume as you will." he replied mockingly. He scoffed and turned forward as the bartender placed his glass before him, sat neatly in the centre of the branded napkin. He took a light sip. He sighed as he swallowed, as though it had just blessed him with relief.

Vivian kept her eyes ahead. The pub was quiet, but the bar was quieter. Silent, in fact. She wanted to keep talking but he was becoming more distasteful against his delicious looks.

"Aye, boss, get her another tall glass." he shouted to the bartender. He nodded and poured the expensive-looking wine that Vivian was sipping into another wide glass. He placed it in front of her and the man placed another note onto the table from his blazer pocket.

She couldn't ignore the fact that it was awkward. "You assumed wrong," she muttered. He drew his eyes to her. "But thank you." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"I usually have company when I get messily wasted, so I might just have to keep someone around."

"Why today are you on your ones?" she asked. She downed the last of her first glass and then picked up the prepaid red wine.

"Usually I like to keep my mind busy with other people, I wanted some time alone but I'm already caving in." he explained. All of a sudden, she was intrigued. She didn't know the name or intentions of this stranger, and she was ready to sit and listen to him for the night.

"Busy life?"

"Just a lot happening at once." Vivian nodded understandingly. Her life was surely uneventful but everyone has had their fair share of existential crises.

"Maybe I'll have to buy you another drink as well." she laughed. He chuckled.

"I could use it." He then paused. "Actually no, don't bother. I don't know why I'm bothering you and now guilting you into buying a drink for me. It's fine, really,"

"It's okay. You could argue that I did the same to you. Plus, I'm already rinsing my money for this tasteless wine that I drink way too often." she reassured.

He watched her for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the glass. "It looks expensive."

"Expensively cheap-tasting, it is." Vivian tutted. "I'm an alcoholic, I've accepted it,"

"Getting wasted is getting wasted, ain't it?"

"Ah," she shrugged, the glass pausing by her matte lipstick lips. "Getting wasted with some type of elegance." she slowly emptied the glass.