Forums » General Roleplay » Table 27. (Open)

•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´Table 27`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•

Setting: Texas Roadhouse at night.
Plot: Free for all.
Mood: Jake is abnormally tired despite the cheery environment.

~.Starter.~

I sometimes wonder if the clock on the wall stood still. I knew it was working, of course. It's ticking red hand moved at an agonizing slow pace; noise being consumed in the laughter and joyous environment of the restaurant. I had been told that no matter how long you stare at a clock it will never go any faster. Sometimes I enjoyed putting this to the test, but I was always proven wrong when my sanity was stretched thin. Thinking back to this morning, I recalled that I had arrived when the small hand was on the '8' and the large hand was on the '6.' 12 hours later I was bent over a counter in complete exhaustion; Pakistan green eyes locked onto the ticking object that mocked me from it's oak frame. Country music beamed throughout the dark restaurant that was only lit by hanging lights above tables. Clapping and cheering informed me that the last line dance was commencing.

I merely sighed.

A sudden hand made brutal contact with my fragile spine. It sent a wave of pain through my tired and sore body before I was able to react. The clock had faded into my mind as a past issue. I focused on a large man that stood before me. As I straightened myself up, I noticed that he was wearing his blue tie; obviously in a cocky mood. "'Ey, Jake! What cha' doin' just standin' dere'?" Every time he spoke I wanted to tear out my teeth. That heavy southern accent was like nails down a chalk board. Sure, he was my boss and owner of this Texas Roadhouse establishment, but he didn't have to act so energetic when he wasn't. He was tired. We all were. A long days events surely had taken their toll on all of us. Unfortunately another long day awaited me tomorrow. That meant more hours wasted staring at a clock. I assumed I was better off responding to my boss than to avoid hearing that God forsaken voice. Again I hesitated; letting my precious seconds stretch on as long as they could. "Well, um..." The words became lodged in my throat. It annoyed me that 12 hours could drain all my energy so easily. "I'm not waiting on anyone. So I was just going to... Y'know..." My voice melted into the loud bustling crown that stuffed their faces with the finest cut steak. They all had no idea that people worked hard in a hot kitchen to prepare their food. "Ya' betta' get t'word if y'wanna get paid!" Despite the smile my boss had on his wrinkled face, you could tell he wanted to jump at your throat from the days tension. I was sure that if I was in charge I would let out inner aggression on my employers. "Right, sir." My voice was not at all convincing. He must have caught this, because the taller man scowled and scoffed all together. I knew it would be a bright idea to avoid further conversation for the sake of my sanity, so I turned to walk away.

I looked for anything among the moving bodies and flashing neon lights that could consume my attention. In fact, I even glanced at the clock a few times to see if it had moved. Indeed, three minutes had passed. At that very moment I felt as if I were about to snap. Fifty-seven minutes remained of this long night. People were filling in through the front door; families and friends alike. I knew none of them. They were all strangers. Slowly I approached them in recollection that I would have to wait on one of the lively groups. I knew they would talk about me behind my back, saying things like "Jee! Isn't he just rude! No tip for him!" I was about to punch the wall when a feminine voice called out to me. "Jake!~" I could barely hear the friendly tone through the roar of the crowd. My eyes made contact with blue orbs; her blonde hair tightly held in a pony-tail that fell onto her shoulder and caressed her bust.

Sometimes I wondered if I could truly consider her a friend. I've never actually had one, so I was unaware of what a friendship was like. "Hey, Hanna. What is it?" The blonde smiled at me; a smile so kind it made you blush. "Take table 27. There's only one person there. Thought I'd make your last hour an easy one." She winked at me. It was such a relief to know that there was someone out there who wanted to make my life a little easier. "Thanks, I owe you one." A not so real smile formed on my pink lips as thin arms wrapped around her waist in a quick hug. For such a bright young girl, she was cold. One of her soft hands brushed smokey topaz colored hair out of my eyes. I could tell she was flirting, and that made me very uneasy. "You have such beautiful hair." She spoke in a smooth voice. "Brown, but red at the same time..." I merely nodded in response. I couldn't bare to look into those eyes. They were filled with pain and longing for love like mine. It was a mutual connection that had to spark; nothing but an empty gaze.

Maybe that is how I saw it.

"Alright. I better get back to work before mister 'badass' sees me just standin' here." We laughed in tones that were not all convincing. As quickly as I could, I turned and left to go to the 27th table. How I prayed that his costumer could kill an hour of time. I shoved my way past other humans; shoulders hitting theirs as anger built. My feet crunched empty peanut shells. I felt the anger boil as I figured I would have to stay late and clean. My eyes fell upon the end of table 27. I was not able to see who was sitting at the table due to people standing in the way. I pulled out my paper pad and a pen. "Hello, there. What would you like to drink?" I spoke in a sigh; clearly tired and/or annoyed. The words slipped from my soft lips before I was able to focus on the stranger. My eyes adjusted to the sudden light that came from the hanging lap.

{∞INTRODUCTION∞}


BOOM! POW! BANG!

"Myth, take point and scout for an exit!"
"Enemy infantry! Stay sharp!"
"What the hell are you doing, Myth?! Get your arse up here and secure the perimeter!"

As they say, war never changes. No matter how hard or how much the government tries to convince us that they are putting an end to war itself, they are just lying to themselves and we the people, whether they may acknowledge that or not. There is war over religion, war over politics, war over individual opinion, and now even war over war. If we attempt to eliminate the existence of war and all forms that have been created from it, we ourselves as mere inhabitants of planet Earth have become combative soldiers, fighting its own battle for itself. If we fight war, war will fight back, and simply by initiating a war on war, we have yet another war that requires our attention. It is an endless cycle; There will always be war. Because war never changes.

Call me ignorant, pessimistic or even cliché. I know how war is, what it's like. I've fought the bloody, malevolent battles of vengeance, blown a foreign, unloved breathing body to bits and pieces, shed my own intoxicated blood upon this white and blue American flag, and devoted what's left of my entire being to the services. I am in a commitment with war, one mightier than what I have with the love of my life. When you agree to serve, you are not making a living, nor are you making a life. You are fighting to help your country's citizens gain and mend what you have voluntarily lost -- what you may never retain again.

After a year I finally returned to my home. The only uncanny thing was that... it wasn't a home. It was merely a house, indifferent to whether my presence occupied its interior or not. I no longer had friends, family, acquaintances, enemies... they had all betrayed me beforehand, left me with no one besides the counterparts of my own mind's initiative and response system. I had nothing - not a thing other than war to grasp onto. Until she came along.

I wasn't expecting it, really. I met her brother first -- he introduced me to his home, treated me fairly superior to others. We had even begun an unstable relationship of our own, though it wasn't strong enough to remain. I fell to his sister for mere support, for I was solely unsatisfied and confused due to yet another soul slipping through my fingers, and so she mended my broken mind without even noticing. I knew then that an uncaring man was not what I needed, but a woman - strong and understandable to only me. I knew then that an indestructible connection would soon click between she and I, one which nothing would be able to disrupt.

Nothing except war.

And so there I laid, my prized possession spending time with her own family while I sunk into the depths of my own fears -- fears I hadn't known existed. I assumed it was exclusively payback for all the time I had left her alone at the void house we subsisted beneath while I was busy struggling to fight for our freedom. That was when I finally understood what it was like to be neglected by a loved one, even if it was only for a day. I evolved into something so sensitive, such alterations wouldn't even be considered evolution, but merely... de-evolution. And I blamed it on war.

Always war.


{∞PLOT∞}


Summoning enough energy - slowly, though with increasing quantity - I placed one foot in front of the other and repeated the process until I found myself at the door. The door knob responded to the force of the twist I applied with my palm and unlatched, pulled away from the doorway and made way for me to walk outside into the unusually hot and arid, oxygen-adapted atmosphere. At first the sun caused my eyes to scorch, but the pain decreased the further I traveled. Every time I opened my mouth and involuntarily tasted the dry, bitter air, it brought back memories of war. Bad memories.

I wasn't sure where I was going, exactly. I found myself near a restaurant dubbed "Texas Roadhouse." At first I thought less of it, hearing the sounds of country music blasting through the windows as I strolled on by, but I was hungry and needed something to fill my empty stomach. I opened the door, got directed to a lonesome table and waited to be served. I already knew what I wanted to drink, though I hadn't viewed their menus yet so I could not say I knew what I had wanted. Once the waiter reached my table I rose my eyes and repositioned the sliver of black hair interfering with my vision to scan his physical appearance. He seemed quite young and care-free, yet somewhat frustrated by the look he had on his face the moment before he stood before me. With him asking me what I had wanted, I began to speak up with a barely noticeable stutter for getting caught off guard.

"D-Do you serve bottles of beer here? Or glasses, mugs... whatever type of container you choose to fill it with. I just need booze."

My answer was monotanous, dragged out -- I sounded like I despised being there, or just subsisting on planet Earth in general. The only thing left to do was wait for his response as my grasp on the plastic menu tightened.