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Will Graham (
2014-07-21 07:28 am (UTC)
Graham doesn't pause as he crosses the threshold. As though he were expecting the bar to suddenly appear, or at least doesn't object to it, he merely closes the door once again, and slips his hands into the pockets of his long gray coat.
The ease in how he holds himself, how he walks, is familiar, but unlike him. At first he seems to be heading toward the Bar - before the orange fabric that snags at his attention.
He still never stops. Graham's path tilts toward Chilton's table like it had been his intention the moment he walked in.
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