This fucking guy was huffing fumes like a god damn truck. A real honest to god mouth breather, he was leaning over the bar perched like a chromed out hyena. Not quite a metalhead, but the guy was chromed to the nines and had more in common with the rear end of a big rig than your typical person. Lucy could barely tear her eyes away from him, not sure what to make of him. He seemed shaky, ready to crack any moment and become another cyberpsycho splattered all over the evening news and he was hinging it all on if he could get the bartender’s attention soon enough to medicate his condition with pretty neon bottles decorating the wall.
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