we do not remember days, we remember moments [tag; max]

On the list of terrible days he had to say that this one was on it's way to topping the list. It was a day that not only tested his patience but his will. His life had changed and if he was being honest the change had affected him. A calmer version of himself seemed to appear. Though it wasn't as if he didn't have his moments, but he had after-all told the bone man that he would work harder on controlling his temper. There were moments when doing such a thing proved hard and he seemed not to have the will to apply the effort. There was a part of Tony that loved violence, that lived in the misery he caused other people. There was nothing better to the businessman than getting the things he wanted with a bit of help from some physical pain. There was a beauty in it that seemed addictive for the man. Working for the bone man meant that his certain tastes would be satisfied while still being allowed to be the man he was without it.  "Keep 'em coming." It had been hardest to tell his wife about who he saw when he looked in the mirror. It had been hardest to hear what she might have thought of him.

If he had lost her he wasn't sure where he would be. Lost, for sure. Dead, maybe. It was hard to say which direction his life would have taken. His was a darker man than most and he found that at times there was no need in feeling burdened by it. It had been who he was when he was growing up so it was no surprise it was who he had become. Yes, he had wished to be a better man. Hell, he had even tried it out for a while but realized that living a lie wasn't living at all. He needed to cool down before going home and figured that a few drinks would serve purpose. He wasn't much of a drinker but sometimes things changed, even if just for a moment.

The bar was dark as most of the lights seemed to be dimmer than intended, but the darkness was nice for the Englishman. It gave him a bit of comfort to be hidden by the shadows. Blue eyes washed over the run down establishment. The worn chairs and stains on the walls that he could see. The smoke that clouded the open space in certain areas where the light was bright enough. The faint spell of alcohol and stupidity made him more aware of the fact that he had been drinking. Maybe leaving would be the best choice, the only choice. Still he didn't move, well only to lift his new glass of beer to his lips for another drink. It had just been one of those days. Three orders for the pit had been misplaced or shipped somewhere else or whatever the man had said while Tony did his best not to explode. Several of his employees were out with this flu that seemed to be going around.

It had been a down on his luck type of day and the man didn't see it getting any better. His only solace was what he had waiting at home for him when he actually got there.  He could feel the haze of intoxication faintly compromising his decision making skills. He was itching for some action, any kind. It had been a long time since he felt so free, so much more like himself than he was used too. He had been walking around London all day after choosing to leave work early to maintain his sanity. So much had been on his mind he simply needed a moment to himself to think. Now he found himself four beers deep in a dimly lit bar with boredom lurking around the corner.

Beer in hand he gave a sigh before glancing off to the side as he felt the presence of someone next to him. He turned back to face the bar, lifting his glass back to his lips before resting it on the bar with a soft thud. A large hand rose to cover his mouth as he coughed slightly before clearing his throat, looking at the man next to him for a long quiet moment. Blue eyes shifted back to the bar as he thought hard about the familiar face next to him. How often did he run into people he knew, never.

@Maximillion Crowhurst

Max cracked his neck as he slipped into the bar. He glanced around as he mentally scoped out how many people crowded the floor, and where exactly they stood or sat. It wasn't as crowded as he expected it to be, but it was busy enough that the auror dismissed the count. Not many witches and wizards frequented non-wizarding establishments, especially in the heart of London. Max was exhausted, although already two drinks in from a prior bar, where he met with a few buddies and they hung out for a bit. Now that they had retreated back to their girlfriends, fiancees and homes, Max was left alone, with just the thoughts in his mind. That was never good, especially considering the situations that went on in the wizarding world. Between the sickness, the dome and the lack of bodies in the Ministry of Magic, Max was stressed. More often than not, drinking and smoking were his coping mechanisms, and sex? Well, that was a bonus. It was even more of a bonus if he could not only hook up with someone, but also drink his sobriety away all at the same time. It was a terrible, terrible addiction, but at the same time, a wonderful way for Max Crowhurst to lose himself.

He sauntered through a small crowd of older gentlemen. He ignored the way they glanced at him and moved stealthily towards the bar. He wasn't really in the mood to actually initiate anything today, although he would talk to those sitting around him. It was all pick and choose. Maybe if someone was sexy enough, he'd try to hook up with them, but until then? He'd be alone with his thoughts. The bar wasn't as packed as the floor and scattered tables were, and that was perfectly fine with the tattooed man. He squeezed himself in next to a younger looking man who sipped his beer lazily, and an older lady wearing not only too much perfume, but far too much makeup.

He glanced at the stock behind the bar before he ordered, and soon he was enjoying his own drink. He hummed in contentment before he leaned slightly forwards, his elbows and forearms resting on the bar while his shoulders slumped. He felt so tired but he wasn't quite ready to go home. Not yet. He sipped his alcohol happily before looking at the woman next to him. She was far too uninteresting, and she was busy at a failed attempt to pick up the younger man next to her on the other side. He snorted before he turned his attention to the man next to him, and stared for probably a bit too long. Something tickled the back of his head, like he knew this man, but that was almost impossible. Most witches and wizards avoided muggles, unless they didn't mind it. It was something that was starting to bother Max, and he shifted, openly turning himself to face the other man, his face propped up on the palm of his left hand while he sipped his beer from his right.