[2] Words of Wisdom

Bentley was already drunk by the time Atticus got to the bar.

She was sitting alone at an otherwise empty counter, beneath the cool LED lights strung over her head. Taking shot after shot, looking somehow both miserable and pleased at the same time. Both angels and demons naturally had an exceptionally high tolerance for common alcohol, so to get the point of being drunk must have taken Bentley quite an astonishing amount of effort. And she did not seem to show any sign of slowing down.

After downing another glass, Bentley leaned over and hit her head on the wooden counter a couple times. Did she know that there was someone watching her? Possibly. Did she care? Not in the slightest.

Until a hand tapped her on the shoulder.

"Miss, can I see some ID?" Asked the bouncer for the bar.