"You look like crap," Arman said, dawning a pint of whiskey.
"Don't you look worse?" Ash grumbled, downing his pint as well. The room reeked of whiskey and the puff of tobacco.
"Now that I think of it, I do." Arman dropped his glass and sighed. He leaned his head against the hard wooden chair he sat on and winced at the pain that shot through his head. "It's been years since you last stepped in here."
"I had no reason to." Came Ash's simple reply. He had also discarded his glass on the table. However, instead of leaning on his chair as Arman did, he simply stood and walked to the window by the left. "It still feels the same. Just like the old days."
"We can have that back only if you choose to open up to Baal."
Ash smiled. A small sad smile that had become the only thing he does now.
