Widdershins

He sits at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and looking like he's been here forever even though it's been, dunno, 10 years since he last wandered through, give or take. The bartender, who's always happy to talk and flirt, is giving him a wide berth, probably still remembering the time she spent as a mockingbird. It wasn't his fault that she had wanted to sing like a bird.

He sighs and stares into his glass, the loneliest sight you've ever seen. There's not much he wouldn't give for some company right now.




[ooc: Make arrangements for what the deal will be and how it will go wrong here!]