Enjoying a Drink After A Show, Company? [Open]

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cane

The hour was pretty late but he found himself after the show not wanting the company of the women that came to him after the show, fans, wanting him for the night, wishing to bed him. They were not his desires and so he took up sitting at the pub, staring into his drink. He thought on the events that had transpired within the past couple of months. He lost his brother to the beast his father was, a werewolf, and in turn had been bitten and turned into the very thing he thought he could avoid. He found out the truth behind his mother's death, that she had not taken her own life instead it was his father that had killed her. Here he was, harboring secrets and he thought on his stay in The Asylum as a child. It was not pleasant memories but he was haunted by it all. Fate had a funny way of showing her humor, turning him into what had killed the man he was closest to, his brother, leaving his brother's wife a widow at such a young age. Benicio sighed and took a drink, looking around the pub.

Did he belong here? So many people here were upper class citizens and he was upper class, he had a Lordship, one he chose to ignore but a Lordship nonetheless. He wished to be famous in other ways, not by keeping his father's estate, becoming the werewolf Lord there. He wanted to be famous for his talents on the stage. He wanted to be known for the actor he was. He was making it, sure, but he was tired of the hussies that seemed to hassle him after shows. He was tired of his director consistently making sure they found their way to him. He wanted someone to like him for who he was not what he did. Acting was just a part of him and he was sick of those women wanting him for his name. He looked up from his glass, realizing it was empty.

"Another please," He said softly, raising his mug. He was at a fork in the road in his life. He had to decide what to do. But for the moment he wanted a distraction. The woman bartender was pretty but he wanted something else. It was no secret to him that he desired males above women, it was no secret in the least to him but no one else knew, no one but his theatre partner. It was a secret he chose to keep, just like that of the fact he was a werewolf. He knew if either came to light he'd be hunted down and killed, probably hung. He sighed, looking around the bar. How was he supposed to find company if he wasn't sure what anyone else preferred?