<div class="floatleft">(http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff7/HaruTokushima/Realistic%20Chars/Stephen%20Rains/4bd48e26-2a62-4730-9e06-d4132a33750c_zpsc15ee5ba.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Zach Evans<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Parker Commons Lawn<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>No one, open<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Zach being a grouchy loner<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Pirate (http://www.halloweencostumes.com/mens-cutthroat-pirate-costume.html)<br/><hr/><br/>Finally. They were leaving. It was like his brain had to torment him by picking up on every pathetic line the Casanova spewed. A puke-worthy performance, really. It had taken effort not to turn around and say something he'd only slightly regret.<br/><br/>Sure, he could've went to another table, but he was here first.<br/><br/>Zach lightly tapped his finger on the table, the melody to Eminent's latest work in progress playing in his head. It sounded like a single. Now they just needed lyrics. Only the words weren't coming. Last night he left a sheet of paper scarred in black before calling it quits. Not that his mind ever stopped churning on it. Last night had been restless and earlier at work he about smashed his face against the shelves of porn star dildos just to get himself to stop thinking for just. one. minute.<br/><br/>Bet that would've gotten someone's rocks off.<br/><br/><em>Shit. It's chilly.</em>He rubbed at his tattooed arms. For Chicago, it could've been worse, but this costume was pretty thin. The t-shirt he had stuck on under the tunic didn't help much. Heavy laughter erupted from a table not too far away. Over on the "dance floor," some chick fell flat on her ass. People were getting drunker.<br/><br/>Really, he was surprised with the turnout. Who would've thought Maggie had it in her? Apparently, the devil herself.<br/><br/>Zach wished he knew about the bar beforehand. If he did, he wouldn't have bothered bringing a case. It wasn't even anything good. Coors Light or some shit. Not that he would've brought anything better, if not beer. He didn't owe any of them anything. Most of these people were strangers, maybe faces he had seen here and there, but that was it, and it had been a couple of years since he moved into this place. Some would probably say he was more sociable on stage, and they were right. It was easier talking at a mass of faces he would forget the next day than with one person.<br/><br/>Maybe he shouldn't have bothered with this party. He wanted to distract himself, but so much for that.<br/><br/>Well, at least Miss O'Shea had brought some pretty good shit. Seeing that his cup was empty, he headed to the bar.