pulsfire

[pulsfire]

There might not be many things about the future that he enjoys, or rather the impending doom of a totalitarian state overshadowed most of it. Even the pleasure of burning liquid running down his throat or the heavy music blasting from every corner of the ‘Broken Cosmos’ - a club he visited on his off days often, it was just a way to forget whatever laid in the far too close future. As much as he worked to resolve such a thing the task was overwhelming if seen on a grand total scale. He was none to give up, but he also knew the limits of his self, after all he was merely one person against the entire future - or sometimes more against Caitlyn. 

A person needed a break facing such dangers, and a drink.

One that he has already acquired, lips pressed against glass as it burns down his throat - a smile curled around them as he listens to whatever the bartender was telling him, a story of some sorts, but he has stopped truly caring halfway in.

It hasn't been too long since he had sat down, sipping at his second or third drink and leaning against the counter with a coy smirk flashed towards the guy talking to him, a nod to fake that he was caring about his story.

Ezreal doesn't look as he sees someone at the edge of his vision sitting beside him, perhaps this person, male or female - at this point he cared little, would be more interesting. His glass raised back up towards lips he turns his head towards the newcomer, a brow raised at the words that reached his ears.

That his gaze is met with the Warlord himself, a man with too many stories of bloodshed(whether they might be true or not), seems like a weird drunken daydream.

Just that he is not drunk, and he's not daydreaming.

Immediately he chokes on his drink, slamming it down rather forcefully and coughing heavily - a hand held out in front of his mouth and wide eyes staring at the man while going pale.

So much for looking hot and flirty.

Fear flickers in blue hues immediately, and while Ezreal tries to regain his composition his gaze flickers trough the Club looking if the other was here alone. Was he with Caitlyn? Which of the other Club- goers were Police or worse , from Shen’s weird Army? He knew his head would roll one day or another, he just didn't think it would be in a Club drinking his worries away.

But he can't see anything, and worse - he couldn't even pull out P.E.A.R.L to ask for an escape Plan or another type of help, the mental image of the others hand shooting forward to strangle him while he tries that plays over and over in Ezreal’s head.

Okay, play it cool Ezreal.

                                  “Haha - Mister Warlord I think you are mistaken --”

His voice pitches higher slightly, he can feel the cold sweat beading on top of his brows - fingers curling tight around the drink in his hand. 

Why was the other looking for him? Had he possibly teamed up with the shitty future-space-police? Or  maybe he accidentally stole something from him. Oh no. That was even worse.

[pulsfire]

PF Shen? c:

((Number one done, Pulsfire Shen for @voidwhispxrs))

[pulsfire]

ＳＹＳＴＥＭＳ － ＯＮＬＩＮＥ． ＩＮＢＯＸ／ＰＬＯＴＴＩＮＧ ＣＡＬＬ．

ＡＷＡＩＴＩＮＧ  ＣＯＭＭＡＮＤ．

[pulsfire]

           𝙿𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚜 - 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎.