see your ego — open, human au

[hey mates!! was in the mood for an au, so, here we go. aging and all that junk is up to you, but i've chosen to do a quick +10 for rose, just because i feel like she just *is* a twenty-three-year-old. this is set in a bar, so no drinking under twenty one and no one under eighteen would be let in.]

the liquor burned her throat in a familiar fire that, admittedly, she hated.

it was a dingy little dive bar. lowly lit, in a small town that you could drive through in an easy five minutes. full of pine trees and humid air, despite having no rain, seemed to make the hair on everyone's necks stand up. neon red lights read sunny's outside, and some shitty music filled the small building with a low hum, coming from a dozen half brokenspeakers around the room.

it was low key, all things considered. the selection was limited to the cheap things, with three top shelf offerings. the glasses had water stains from the half working dish washer, but it was impossible to tell in the low light. people came and went, no man a saint in the brick building, which was discretely stowed between a thrift shop and a botanist. it was inconspicuous, and if you hadn't been in pines shadow, the shitty name of the shitty town, long enough, you wouldn't know it existed.

still, after a long day of work, rose was exhausted, and all she wanted was to be found right there. she didn't fit in, and yet, she did. the ginger was tall and wirey, fine features. she had a porcealin complexion, light eyes, a freckled nose. a mane of auburn curls, which had been pulled up into a pony tail all day, were finally let free, and they surrounded her face, looking almost brown in the dark light.

she sipped on her glass, half full of cheap vodka, a frown playing on her lips.

rosalie sullivan was a social worker. she commuted to the closest city for work, since there wasn't much business to be had in the small town. she loved her job, but some days, it could be troubling. so, she'd come here in between work and home. sunny's seemed to be the hub of activity in the small town; everyone was troubled, and alcohol, cheap and overpriced or not, seemed to make it easier. half the town came there after their days end to wallow in their misery. but they could do it together, at least.

[imagine like a taller, green eyed rose leslie? idk

feel free to go with the job you think your character would be best suited for!]

rose had hit the bottom of her glass when musty made her way over with questions. the woman sighed, setting it on the counter and rubbing under her eyes, careful not to smudge her eyeliner. why should she care, though? she was done working for the day. her daughter, be it adoptive, lived with her best friend. she'd leave the bar, she'd go to her little house, and she'd hit refresh. why should she bother trying to look decent?

but the swedish ginger had been taught to take some degree of pride in her appearance - so she didn't rub her eyes. instead, she sighed, propping herself up on her elbow and smiling at the bartender. it was a sad, tired look upon her lips. "it's been a very long day, and, as much ad i'd love to tell you all about it, there's a dozen confidentiality agreements keeping my lips sealed." she confessed, slouching slightly. "lets just say that some shitty things happen in this world."

she chewed the inside of her lip out of habit. it wasn't some dramatic lip bite - rather, a sign of too many things kept inside. it made her limbs heavy, her head hurt. all she'd do is tap oval nails against the glass. "can i get a refill?" she'd ask, a pleading pout on her lips. and, to keep some sort of conversation going, "how's your night been?"