I.D, -please-

The bass pounded loudly, shaking the floor. Glasses rattled on the table, their contents almost splashing out of them. A young boy, around 14 years of age, sat on a bar stool, his head resting comfortably on his two hands. One or twice someone would crash into him, but he would stay in the same position and reasure himself that it was just a bar fight, nothing else. Just drunken men getting into it over some girl, probably. Soon Sawyer did raise his head to see another teenager, this one a bartender, standing in front of him. "You gonna get anything, sir?" He asked and Sawyer glanced at the menu in front of him. It was already turned to the back, the part with all the drinks labled on there. He scanned them each before settling with the very last one..beer. "Yeah. I'll have this." Turning it over so that he could see, Sawyer laid his finger on his pick. The man nodded as if it were perfectly fine that he was doing somthing illegal and dissapeared into the back. Making sure he was gone, he then sighed and collapsed into his hands again. He sat there and listened to the song still blaring. It was from one of his favorite bands, Panic! At The Disco. And it seemed to fit just perfectly. But It's Better If You Do, was what it was called and was about Brendon Urie (the lead singer, a fine chunk of hotness) being in a strip club, but not really wanting to be there. It explained it's self more in the chorus, which was, of course, Sawyer's favorite part.

"Sir, here you go." The mug was pushed towards him, filled all the way up to top. Sawyer hadn't really been paying attention, being too caught up in the chorus of the song. But now he turned over to the drink in front of him. It would be years until he was legally aloud to drink, about 7 more. But the Sea Cobra never checked I.D, expessialy the younger bartenders. Most of the times, cops would search the place for anyone needed to be placed in jail. Forutenetly, Sawyer had never yet been caught. Even though he broke almost every law ever made, he had never been caught. To add to his problems, Sawyer popped out a cigarette from the pack stashed in his poket and light up. In between smokes he would take a swig of alchol, probably not the most healthy combination. Soon he had gone through five mugs and his whole pack. His head spun and he had double vision. When he ordered yet another the man shook his head. "Sorry, sir. We're not aloud to give to anyone who's already drunk." He hiccuped and stood up, swaying back and forth and glaring intently. "Wo ways I'm...dunk?" Slurring almost every word, he pushed away from the bar and tried to walk over to the dance floor. But the 14 year old hardly made it before he collapsed on the ground. It wasn't long before someone yanked him up and spun him around. The manager stood there, holding him tight. "How old are you!?" Demanded the rather obese man. Sawyer just grinned cheesly before being shaken hard.

The older man groaned and shook him yet again, this time much, much harder. "TELL ME!" He roared, a vein in his neck bursting out of his skin. His restuarant already had a bad reputation, he didn't need more. Sawyer was still grinning wildly, but this time he actually spoke. "I ouldn't be ought ad in this pac!" Giggling, he was thrown to the floor by the manager, who stomped off to find the bartender who had gaven all that alchol to the teen. There was no doubt about it, he was going to be fired. Sawyer swayed back and forth in the midst of all the people before dropping to the floor and crawling back out. His head was still spinning and it was hard for him to get out, seeing as he saw doubles and tried his best no to bump into real person or hulicination. Finally he emerged back out and heaved himself up. Again he swung back and forth for a while before staggering over to the the same bar stool. The bartender was still there, his head down as he washed the tables. At the sight of Sawyer he gave a snarl and grabbed him by the hand. "You almost cost me my job!" Shrieked the boy as he began to drag away the costumer. Sawyer went willingly, not caring at all. He was soon pushed out the door and stood on the sidewalk. People passed by and stared, comenting on his horrible odor of smoke and beer mixed. Kids cried when he grinned at them and mothers yelped as they rushed away the wailing children. Men just laughed and most said they'd rather be him then doing what they were, only to get scolded by wives.

Even from outside, the song could be heard. Sawyer slowly swayed to the beat, hitting the left when the drum crashed, hitting the right when the drum banged. Once or twice he was knocked out of the way by people comming out, but he would always resume his position in front of the door. Soon a fancy looking car came rolling into the parking lot, a pretty looking girl in the drivers seat. She had brown hair with exotic looking streaks, and the most gorgeous smile. Sawyer grinned his creepy, intoxicated smile when she asked if she could get in. "Orrible serves in dere." Hiccuping he stumbled forward a bit before catching himself and standing back up. This time he clutched his head and moaned in aggony. "Head...hurts..pounding." Again he staggered towards Roxy and grabbed onto her shoulders. With shinging jade eyes he stared up at her. He still smelled awful, the terrible mixture of alchol and cigarettes doing damage on him. Ratty black hair lay limp, it's red highlights mixed in there. Sawyer was obviously rather sick and once or twice turned his head to the side in an attempt not to puke on her. Brendan's sweet voice still poured out of the speakers and drifted to the door, circling around his head and getting trapped in there. How ironicly correct the song was. If there was one place he'd rather be, it was here. If there was one place he'd rather not be, it was here. The only difference between this and the song was that it was a smoke filled illegal strip club Brendan was trying to escape, not an illegal resturant.

The other song had ended, and now Daughtry's first big hit began playing. At the end of the first verse, Sawyer finally puked. Luckily he missed the girl, hitting the pavement instead. Imediatly afterwards he seemed to come to, thought still clutched his head. "Sorry, sorry." Mumbled the teen, and he dipped his head polietly. "Names Sawyer. May I ask yours?" Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Saw grinned a cuter, non-drunken grin and chuckled. "I'm not always like that, I swear."

Rolling his eyes, Sawyer again asked his own question. "What's your name?" But, he didn't stop to wait for an answer, even though he still expected one. As she drove up to the front, Sawyer marveled at the car. It was perfect! The blue porsche glitted in the sun. He nodded happily and yanked open the door before hoping in. He still felt rather sick, but told the girl that if anything came up, he'd just lean over the side. Again Sawyer grinned. "Can ya turn on the radio?"

"Nice name." Commented Sawyer, leaning back farther into the seat. There was no doubt this car was expensive, and there was no doubt that the seat now smelled. He quickly thought that she would get in trouble by her parents for this, but pushed away the thought. It wasn't his problem, why worry about it? When asked what radio station he'd like, Sawyer replied "Power 96.5" His favorite station in the world. It played the best songs, including a few Panic!, My Chemical Romance, and Fall Out Boys.