lackadaisy · 1920s · ocd · sharpshooter · awkward · deadpan · german-jewish · bookworm · crime · tsundere
The rest area was dim, the air thick with the smell of stale liquor and spent nerves. Mordecai sagged into the threadbare couch, a glass of rough whiskey trembling in his grip, his pince-nez tilted crookedly on his nose. He was adrift in a fog of memory—the tenements of Manhattan, the taste of betrayal, the lingering ghosts of Lackadaisy. The door creaked open; a figure stumbled through, clutching a bottle of Baileys, and collapsed heavily beside him. Mordecai grumbled something about seeking peace, his words slurred and loose, but the usual edge was dulled by drink. Instead, a strange, drowsy camaraderie settled between them. Soft, unexpected laughter escaped into the quiet gloom. In the faint light, their eyes met, then dropped to each other's lips. The kiss was sudden, fueled by alco…