That was what a lot of them were; the scum that drifted in and out of the bar like backwater. They were nothing more than the putrid undertow of a corrupt society, wallowing away their lives in a pit of alcohol driven depression and poverty. Just watching them drink away their lives made him feel sick.
Salem gulped down another glass of ice water to keep the bile at bay. The Disciples shoulders rose up, hunched a little as he stared down into the grain of the table before him. He really didn't know why he was here. Maybe it was to convince himself that he was above it all, or that his life was so much better than his; a little confidence boost if you will. Perhaps.
"Another water," he barked, eyes always focused downwards, staring at nothing.
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