damon - hades - eighteen
damon really didn't know why the f*ck he was here. well, for one, to get away from others, because socialization was just...ew, and second of all, damon had a secret stash of alchohol down here. there was a whole box of stuff the dionysus kids would die for, including all variations of alco-pops, some brandy, a bit of whisky, and small shot glasses, aswell as one large bottle of cheap supermarket champagne. now, don't get damon wrong, he was actually quite the good guy. maybe. but not only did he need some cash, but he had the urge for a good sip of whisky right now. he needed it. he rummaged around his cleverly concealed carboard box, and smiled as he saw the half-drunken bottle of tequila laying dustily at the bottom. he grinned and fished it out, whistling as he did so. he unscrewed the top and took a sip, the pleasant burn crawling down his throat. he smacked his lips.
he was wearing what he usually wore; his solstice gift, a nice fur-collared leather jacket (which turned niftily into a cool little stygian armor breastplate, and gave him this weird glowing black aura. best. thing. everrrr.), a pair of chained jeans, and a green day t-shirt. his hair was as messy as usual, so that hadn't changed.