Wild Night
Another moment of silence passes, and you begin to wonder if he even heard the question. You prepare to repeat it, though much of its effect is lost in the repeating of it, when he replies.
"Well," he says, and almost looks embarassed when he does, "I'm nocturnal. I sleep during the day and work at night. It's... just the way my body works, I guess." He grins sheepishly, looking down as he does. "It makes life kind of weird for me."
"Oh, pshaw," you reply, "that's not so bad. Just means you have more energy for me right now."
He replies with a smile. You continue your light conversation.
Eventually, over the course of an hour, you begin to suspect he's hiding something from you. His answers to your more probing questions are always either vague or guarded, and while he asks much of you, he seems to get irritated when you ask something too deep from him. Still, he's civil enough, if not friendly, and after a while you're drunk enough to ignore his peculiarity.
After a time, too, he seems more open, or at least assertive. He smiles at you again, oddly sincere, and reaches across the table to grab your hand. "Hey," he says, "wanna get out of here? I'm sorry if I'm being distant, but bars make me a little nervous." Then, after a second of thought, "If you want to keep drinking, we can pass by a liquor store or something... I know a park we can go to, very pretty. I'd prefer it to here. Want to jet?"
"Well," he says, and almost looks embarassed when he does, "I'm nocturnal. I sleep during the day and work at night. It's... just the way my body works, I guess." He grins sheepishly, looking down as he does. "It makes life kind of weird for me."
"Oh, pshaw," you reply, "that's not so bad. Just means you have more energy for me right now."
He replies with a smile. You continue your light conversation.
Eventually, over the course of an hour, you begin to suspect he's hiding something from you. His answers to your more probing questions are always either vague or guarded, and while he asks much of you, he seems to get irritated when you ask something too deep from him. Still, he's civil enough, if not friendly, and after a while you're drunk enough to ignore his peculiarity.
After a time, too, he seems more open, or at least assertive. He smiles at you again, oddly sincere, and reaches across the table to grab your hand. "Hey," he says, "wanna get out of here? I'm sorry if I'm being distant, but bars make me a little nervous." Then, after a second of thought, "If you want to keep drinking, we can pass by a liquor store or something... I know a park we can go to, very pretty. I'd prefer it to here. Want to jet?"