[ He drags his gaze away from the window, sitting himself down properly again to transfer his attention to the woman he'd addressed. They're in similar sad states, right down to the glass with liquor in it, neat. Something about the familiarity makes Gordon relax a little for the first time since setting foot off the ferry. With everything so utterly bizarre, the normalcy of sitting with someone at a bar counter, commiserating in some manner over their mutual sad state of affairs, is a welcome balm. ]
What, these things?
[ He gestures with his thumb at the teetering tower of spirits. Gordon narrows his eyes. He thinks they might be arguing over what to give him. When he turns his head back toward his company, his chin goes before his eyes do, and he doesn't bother trying to hide his dubiousness. ]
no subject
What, these things?
[ He gestures with his thumb at the teetering tower of spirits. Gordon narrows his eyes. He thinks they might be arguing over what to give him. When he turns his head back toward his company, his chin goes before his eyes do, and he doesn't bother trying to hide his dubiousness. ]
You understand them?