Adam was not happy with his new set of circumstances. He hated sinners, absolutely detested them, and now he was one of them!? This was totally bullshit! And that's why he was at the bar tonight—actually, he was at the club, to be more specific. He was here to drink and brood, but also to silently admire—and he'd deny it until the end of time—some of the admittedly good-looking demons out there on the dance floor.

Right this second, though, he was facing the bar, downing what was easily his fourth or fifth glass of whiskey since he got here—what, thirty or so minutes ago? He clearly was handling this well. So well he didn't even notice someone take a seat next to him, just a single stool away. When he did notice, though, he glanced over at them with a bitter glare.

When they happened to look back his way, he scowled and quickly tore his gaze away, not wanting to encourage them to talk to him. But, of course, this was a place of suffering, so of course, they addressed him anyway, with a mild, "Can I help you?"

At their inquiry, Adam looked back over at them with that same scowl from before, if not a little deeper of a scowl, now. "No, you can't help me. You- actually, no. You can help me, by not talking to me." He sneered, turning away from them again as he finished off his most recent glass of dark liquor. Oh, goddamn, he hated this place so much..

Why him? Ugh.. But you know what? As much as he hated to admit it.. This sinner was pretty good-looking too. No, no- that had to be the alcohol talking.