Don't Follow
Hey you, you're living life full throttle. Hey you, pass me down that bottle.
Was nights like this one that made all the dren worth it, Sadie reckoned. The slow nights, the ones you could sit and watch them little fire bugs twinkle like the stars slowly forming above with a bottle of the local brew in your hand, boots propped up on an old empty fuel canister. Letting the galaxy spin for a change, rather than trying to chase it.
Felt kinda surreal in a way, like this was all too good for the likes of her or the guys sitting round with her. Bog'el was off making deals which just left her, Rex, and Ronan to their own devises. Was times like this that Sadie generally tried to come up with some new lick that'd be the base of a new song but this night she'd gone and said frak it and felt like just chilling with the guys who made up the more agreeable part of her so-called family. Tunes was playing, something nice and mellow, nothing like the stuff they'd made happen the night before that'd left them all hyped up and full of pep. Sadie had met the guys who were on the radio once, nice folks, one of them damn good with a quetarra had offered Sid to go and guest on a song on some live festival shindig he was doing. If everything worked out, she'd join if for no other reason than her word had gone and been involved. Drunk as she'd been, it'd been given and that meant something and if the timing was right betwixt jobs, then Sadie would make the effort.
Seemed a verse away at this point, what with Rex just drinking his brew and nodding his head along to the music; Ronan fetching to get himself nice and spaced on whatever spice he'd picked up at the end of last night's gig; and Sadie? Well, she was just enjoying the combo of a good cigarra, good music, and shit alcohol. Cool breeze came through, made her wish she was wearing more than just shorts and a tank but it felt good. Coolness felt like she was alive right then and there. Not the sort of alive she felt on stage or a job but some kind of proper kind in it's own right.
One long drag at the cigarra was puffed out as Sadie watched the lackadaisical way the smoke lingered and blurred the world for a bit as she drank more from the bottle in her other hand to follow it up. This was her sort of life, truth be said. At least for the now. One's view of paradise often went and changed, she'd heard. Some sort of life evolve, and that. One day she suspected this would seem like a vision of lesser times, when a beer and a cig and some blasters weighing heavy at your hips but not needed and fresh ink itching at your arm was nothing worth writing home about. Well, fine then, it was all good that Sadie didn't really have a home to write to, then.
Frak the verse, this was bliss as it was. And there weren't no body or nothing in the verse was gonna convince her otherwise right then.
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