Summer here was so bright. The asphalt was warm even through the soles of his boots, keeping heat in like his cat did in winter. He dug his hands into the pockets of his grey flannel jacket, frowning in distaste when he found them to contain various pieces of lint and - and a Fanta can. He dropped it and kicked it sideways, following the orange can with his eyes into the shadow of a nearby liquid amber tree. The sun was sort of setting [slowly, and fairly reluctantly] but it was still warm, still humid. He wasn't much a fan of the humidity, either - call him old fashioned, but he much preferred drinking water to inhaling it. Every time he took a breath here, he was sure he could feel the liquid in the back of his throat. So.. why the $%&# was he here again..? It kind of depressed him that he actually had to pause and consider that, linger midway through a step and frowning thoughtfully for a moment. oh yeah - Sekhmet had decided that socialising was good.

Placing curses on his TARDIS under his breath [he loved her anyway.] he continued down the road, choosing to walk in the gutter as opposed to the footpath. The reason for this was simple - the footpath was now being eaten by the evening crowd, the ones who came out for family walks and to exercise the dog at dusk just because it got too $%&#ing hot to do it any other time. Syn glowered at them from the corner of his eyes which [while it didn't look very impressive] made him feel slightly better about the whole miserable thing. It didn't help his mood that he still felt kind of average after spending last night playing mad scientist with several different types of alcohol, all varying in levels of potency. And seriously, what was the point in drowning out your demons with alcohol if you didn't let yourself get drunk? It was foolish and broken logic, but shut up. Why the hell was he questioning the way he -

Shut up, brain.

It was strange, the way even if there were other humanoid beings around them he felt no desire to connect with them. The jury had called him mildly sociopathic and with a grin to himself, Syn toyed with the idea - nah, it was everyone but him. It wasn't his problem they were all corrupt and - oh dear god, way to bring down his already mediocre mood. It wasn't his fault that he'd refused to empathise with the families of his victims, to - he needed a drink. Syn took an abrupt left at the next street, knowing that in a place like this - Fortitude Valley, Brisbane - there was going to be a pub every second street or so. Fortunately for him, this guesswork paid off - there was one next to him, a place called "The Beetle' with a metal bug leering at him from the veranda roof. "Dude, you're freaking ugly." He breathed, looking faintly uninterested - but pushed open the door and stepped in anyway,

He knew the kind of place just from the first four seconds.

The air smelt kind of like stale cigarette smoke and beer, with crappy bubblegum froth music pouring out of the speakers like dark water - cold and generally unpleasant. He nearly stepped out of the place there and then - who goes to a place called 'The Beetle', anyway? - but decided that it simply wasn't worth it. Brushing past a crowd of people to get to the bar, pausing to wink at some black haired chick who smirked at him, Syn slid onto the nearest bar stool, lifting his gaze to the bartender. The bartender grinned at him and Syn just watched him flatly for a minute. "What can I do for ya, mate?" he inquired with his broad Australian accent - fake. He'd been here a while, but his accent wasn't perfect yet.

"Scotch. large - like, half the bottle large."

Long night ahead. Joy.

OOC}} Kinda short D8

Even above the general hum of the humans in the bar, he could hear the summer - that sounded strange, but it was true. The cicadas had set up an insistent shrilling whine that came perilously close to drowning out conversation. More annoyingly, every now and then one of them would bumble into the pub and flutter noisily against the rafters until someone picked it up and tossed it out again. It was about then that Syn decided alcohol could only improve the night and gave the barman instructions for a rather large Scotch. The barman nodded and displayed too many teeth to put people at ease, then passed him the drink. Syn swirled it for a second and stared at it, before swallowing some. Tasted like smoke and sherry. But hey, it wasn't so bad. He tilted the glass slightly, the ice cubes clinking quietly against the sides of the glass, and studied it. Human alcohol was kind of lame, but it'd do.

Before Syn could ruminate any more on alcohol and it's tastes or indeed anything at all, someone entered the bar and caused a few of the customers to pause and lazily survey him from their chairs. Instead, Syn just focused on the wood grain in the bench and hunched further into his black trench coat. Of course the guy sat down next to him, it being one of the only empty ones. Syn shot him a subtle side-long glance and winced as some annoying part of his mind informed him that this was in fact another Time Lord. Joy. The guy was wearing a brown suit (overly formal much) and Converse, and he'd ordered bourbon on the rocks. Syn considered leaving, but he'd played with his metabolism so the Scotch (okay, the all the stuff he'd drank back in Sekhmet) kind of muted his usual hatred of Time Lords.

Ehhh, whatever.

Barman-man didn't seem so keen to exercise his customer service skills on other Time Lord - just nodding and passing him the drink. Syn watched this mute exchange with a sort of mild curiosity. When he turned away Syn arched his eyebrows and murmured in the general direction of other Time Lord - "He's got a smile that lights up a room, hasn't he?" Somewhat wryly. Syn earned himself a cool stare from aforementioned BarGuy. Thankfully, then the barman swapped shifts, with a quietly attractive woman - maybe about 25 or so, with black hair and chocolate brown eyes. That improved Syn's mood no end. Enough that he flipped through a range of deliberately tacky lines to lot - what? He hadn't done this in ages. He was allwoed to be a total manwhore again now.

He wasn't too sure that he was pleased by that thought, but - he took another mouthful of Scotch to finish it off. PrettyBarChick smiled at him. Syn responded in kind. "Hey, do you know how much a polar bear weighs?" he asked, leaning in conspirationally. He got a head shake for no. "Enough to break the ice,"He purred - whereupon her smile widened. "What can I get you?" Syn tilted his head to one side as he deliberated, the remnants of his smile still playing over his features. "Uhh..Just a Crownie, thanks. And random alcohol for this guy here.

Wow. Syn really was in a good mood.