Richard couldn’t sleep much after the events of yesterday. So he awoken after about 7 hours of sleep and walked to the nearest bar...Shirley’s. In big neon lights it said “Open 24 hours: it’s always 12 o’clock somewhere”. Richard kinda chuckled at that, so he walks into the murky dim lit master piece called Shirley’s.
The bar was nice, it’s walls were a jet black and silver marble like. The floors were a classic black colored tile that would turn into burgundy rugs. The bar had several areas within it. It had that classics within, they had pool tables, booths,some arcade cabinets for the drunks kids, and it was connected to a smaller pizza joint. Richard took a seat at the bar and got a “Dark and Stormy” he laid his head on the counter and took in the noise levels at the bar.
((Is this okay?)
The bar was nice, it’s walls were a jet black and silver marble like. The floors were a classic black colored tile that would turn into burgundy rugs. The bar had several areas within it. It had that classics within, they had pool tables, booths,some arcade cabinets for the drunks kids, and it was connected to a smaller pizza joint. Richard took a seat at the bar and got a “Dark and Stormy” he laid his head on the counter and took in the noise levels at the bar.
((Is this okay?)
(Yeah, it’s totally fine! Glad to see some exploring of the areas!)
There was a loud, echoing sound of pool balls crashing together and rolling around, followed by an enthusiastic, “Woo!”
Rowen stood at the side of the table, with a celebratory fist thrust into the air, the other hand holding the stick. She swung the stick so it was pointing in the direction of a very large, burly looking, biker man dressed in a leather jacket. He didn’t look the most pleased.
“You own me $50!” She declared through her wild grin. “Pay up, big daddy.”
The burly biker reluctantly dug through one of his pockets, and fished out a crumpled up bill to shove into Rowen’s eager hand. In response, she blew him a kiss then skipped merely over to the bar counter to relish in her winnings.
There was a loud, echoing sound of pool balls crashing together and rolling around, followed by an enthusiastic, “Woo!”
Rowen stood at the side of the table, with a celebratory fist thrust into the air, the other hand holding the stick. She swung the stick so it was pointing in the direction of a very large, burly looking, biker man dressed in a leather jacket. He didn’t look the most pleased.
“You own me $50!” She declared through her wild grin. “Pay up, big daddy.”
The burly biker reluctantly dug through one of his pockets, and fished out a crumpled up bill to shove into Rowen’s eager hand. In response, she blew him a kiss then skipped merely over to the bar counter to relish in her winnings.
“See anything ya like, hon?” The female voice, weary in its smooth tone and laced with a slight southern accent asked of the seated man who had been staring at the same laminated bar menu for the past fifteen minutes.
“Hm?” The man looked up from what had held his attention, and set his tired eyes on the forty-something waitress named “Allison” who responded with a partial smirk. “Oh, yeah. Bacon cheeseburger, medium-rare.” He handed the menu to the other. “And, ah...top me off when you have a chance.”
Marcus sat back against the wooden booth seat, which was situated along the walls away from the bartop itself. He lazily rested his arm along the top and stared out into the dark streets, which were void of much of anything at this time of night except the light drizzle that began to form from the rain clouds above. He ran a hand through his dark hair which was beginning to show signs of graying along the sides, and finished off the last few sips of his beer.
Something had bothered him that late night at Shirley’s, and he couldn’t shake whatever the thought was, which had become a nagging thorn in his side over the last several hours. He turned his attention back to the interior of the bar, which was setup like one you'd expect from a semi-classy joint, even complete with an old jukebox that still carried it’s original vinyl records. He was just happy about the food menu-as limited as it was, since their sandwiches were pretty decent compared to other places in the area.
Besides Marcus, there were a few other patrons scattered about the place, one of which caught his attention near the far end where the pool tables were setup. A slim, leggy blond with long hair bent over the side of the table as she hammered the balls into various pockets, eliciting a cheer from her lips at the stereotypical biker trash that stood next her with his mouth agape. He'd noticed the girl before, at the Paradise, but didn't know her beyond that. Not a bad looker, and certainly the type he'd preferred in a woman, but he didn't have the time nor the care to get involved.
“Hm?” The man looked up from what had held his attention, and set his tired eyes on the forty-something waitress named “Allison” who responded with a partial smirk. “Oh, yeah. Bacon cheeseburger, medium-rare.” He handed the menu to the other. “And, ah...top me off when you have a chance.”
Marcus sat back against the wooden booth seat, which was situated along the walls away from the bartop itself. He lazily rested his arm along the top and stared out into the dark streets, which were void of much of anything at this time of night except the light drizzle that began to form from the rain clouds above. He ran a hand through his dark hair which was beginning to show signs of graying along the sides, and finished off the last few sips of his beer.
Something had bothered him that late night at Shirley’s, and he couldn’t shake whatever the thought was, which had become a nagging thorn in his side over the last several hours. He turned his attention back to the interior of the bar, which was setup like one you'd expect from a semi-classy joint, even complete with an old jukebox that still carried it’s original vinyl records. He was just happy about the food menu-as limited as it was, since their sandwiches were pretty decent compared to other places in the area.
Besides Marcus, there were a few other patrons scattered about the place, one of which caught his attention near the far end where the pool tables were setup. A slim, leggy blond with long hair bent over the side of the table as she hammered the balls into various pockets, eliciting a cheer from her lips at the stereotypical biker trash that stood next her with his mouth agape. He'd noticed the girl before, at the Paradise, but didn't know her beyond that. Not a bad looker, and certainly the type he'd preferred in a woman, but he didn't have the time nor the care to get involved.
The door opened and close quite loudly as a person strutted in, quite confidentially.
This person was Jax Draven.
He was a very attractive and seductive man, only at the age of twenty seven. The man was a solid 6'2", 143lbs and about as hot as the sun. He had gorgeous messy brown hair with longing, seductive, curious and beautiful chocolate eyes that seemed like they could star into your soul and discover your darkest secrets. He was very fit, athletically and physically and was quite tanned for a British guy.
His beautiful eyes glanced around the bar, peering at every person in the building. His eyes lingered on the male at the bar, squinting his eyes at him and letting himself stare at him for a while. He quickly glanced away in fear of embarrassment for the receiver of his stare.
He bit the inside of his gum a he let himself stare once more before moving on to the busty blonde who was very energetic. The male sighed before rolling his eyes.
The beautiful brunette tilted his head, still standing at the door, before walking over to the bar, looking at the menu as his foot tapped rapidly on the floor, his ADHD pisisng him off.
He jumped slightly as he bit his lip, finally making a decision. He moved closer to the bar, perching on the seat next to the male he'd been staring at, briefly making eye contact before grabbing the bartender's attention.
"I'd like a sweet and sour, please," He asked quietly, his voice hushed. His accent consisted of mainly English, but some Irish was mixed in there too, making it very posh yet his tone was casual.
He turned in his chair to face the male beside him, furrowing one eyebrow and glancing over him, before catching his eyes again. "Hello. What brings you to this bar?" He asked him, tilting his head, letting his eyes wander over the building as he awaited an answer, or some type of response. He'd just moved into Paradise Apartments, so he didn't recognise any of the inhabitants in the bar. He had a feeling he'd see them quite often though.
His hand made it's way into his pocket, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. He took one out of the box and brought it out, sticking it in his mouth without lighting it. He often lit them, but he decided not to that time.
This person was Jax Draven.
He was a very attractive and seductive man, only at the age of twenty seven. The man was a solid 6'2", 143lbs and about as hot as the sun. He had gorgeous messy brown hair with longing, seductive, curious and beautiful chocolate eyes that seemed like they could star into your soul and discover your darkest secrets. He was very fit, athletically and physically and was quite tanned for a British guy.
His beautiful eyes glanced around the bar, peering at every person in the building. His eyes lingered on the male at the bar, squinting his eyes at him and letting himself stare at him for a while. He quickly glanced away in fear of embarrassment for the receiver of his stare.
He bit the inside of his gum a he let himself stare once more before moving on to the busty blonde who was very energetic. The male sighed before rolling his eyes.
The beautiful brunette tilted his head, still standing at the door, before walking over to the bar, looking at the menu as his foot tapped rapidly on the floor, his ADHD pisisng him off.
He jumped slightly as he bit his lip, finally making a decision. He moved closer to the bar, perching on the seat next to the male he'd been staring at, briefly making eye contact before grabbing the bartender's attention.
"I'd like a sweet and sour, please," He asked quietly, his voice hushed. His accent consisted of mainly English, but some Irish was mixed in there too, making it very posh yet his tone was casual.
He turned in his chair to face the male beside him, furrowing one eyebrow and glancing over him, before catching his eyes again. "Hello. What brings you to this bar?" He asked him, tilting his head, letting his eyes wander over the building as he awaited an answer, or some type of response. He'd just moved into Paradise Apartments, so he didn't recognise any of the inhabitants in the bar. He had a feeling he'd see them quite often though.
His hand made it's way into his pocket, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. He took one out of the box and brought it out, sticking it in his mouth without lighting it. He often lit them, but he decided not to that time.
The twenty two year old woman didn't appear to notice anyone else existing, as if just living in her own little world - besides the bar staff of course. She was wearing a baggy, black, zip up hoodie over a white wife-beater tank top, obviously DIYed jean shorts wrapped around her thighs, and cheap, black flip flops on her feet, looking like a true example of small town Florida trash.
She slid over to where Allison was refilling a beer mug for a salt-and-pepper haired patron, giving the man a once over. What could she say? She had a thing for older men. Was that some kind of daddy complex? Ha! She snorted in amusement at herself, refocusing her attention on Allison. "Hey Alley-cat," Rowen cooed, a devious smirk pulling her thick lips tighter across her teeth. "Hook a lady up with some rum?" She requested, thumbing out some of the bills from her winning. The middle aged server looked slightly amused at the apparently normal antics of the young woman, but mostly just worn out. Allison gave Rowen the one minute sign, while going about tending to Marcus's order.
At the sound of the door snapping shut, she glanced over her shoulder to see a man with a mop of brunette locks and a set of eyes like Valentine chocolates. Hm, haven't seen that face around here before. And come to think of it, she hadn't seen the silver fox sitting to her right before either. Must be new to town, had to be. You don't live in a town like this one without becoming familiar with everyone's faces. Lovely, she thought, fresh meat. And boy, did they look fresh. She watched as the brunette took a seat on the other side of Marcus, sandwiching the older man between him and Rowen, and casting his own beverage order.
After Allison finished refilling Marcus's beer and sliding it to him, she set to Jax's sweet 'n sour, skipping over Rowen for now. Like previously stated, new faces stick out like sore thumbs 'round here, and locals like to make a good first impressions, well some do.
Rowen settled more into the bar stool beside Marcus, pulling one of her long legs up and folding it under herself, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the bar counter. Tucking her blonde hair behind her ears, she eavesdropped as Jax began a conversation with Marcus, using an icebreaker Rowen had heard roughly a million times. 'What brings you to this bar?', the question made her snicker under her breath. Well pal, it's the only bar in town.
She slid over to where Allison was refilling a beer mug for a salt-and-pepper haired patron, giving the man a once over. What could she say? She had a thing for older men. Was that some kind of daddy complex? Ha! She snorted in amusement at herself, refocusing her attention on Allison. "Hey Alley-cat," Rowen cooed, a devious smirk pulling her thick lips tighter across her teeth. "Hook a lady up with some rum?" She requested, thumbing out some of the bills from her winning. The middle aged server looked slightly amused at the apparently normal antics of the young woman, but mostly just worn out. Allison gave Rowen the one minute sign, while going about tending to Marcus's order.
At the sound of the door snapping shut, she glanced over her shoulder to see a man with a mop of brunette locks and a set of eyes like Valentine chocolates. Hm, haven't seen that face around here before. And come to think of it, she hadn't seen the silver fox sitting to her right before either. Must be new to town, had to be. You don't live in a town like this one without becoming familiar with everyone's faces. Lovely, she thought, fresh meat. And boy, did they look fresh. She watched as the brunette took a seat on the other side of Marcus, sandwiching the older man between him and Rowen, and casting his own beverage order.
After Allison finished refilling Marcus's beer and sliding it to him, she set to Jax's sweet 'n sour, skipping over Rowen for now. Like previously stated, new faces stick out like sore thumbs 'round here, and locals like to make a good first impressions, well some do.
Rowen settled more into the bar stool beside Marcus, pulling one of her long legs up and folding it under herself, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the bar counter. Tucking her blonde hair behind her ears, she eavesdropped as Jax began a conversation with Marcus, using an icebreaker Rowen had heard roughly a million times. 'What brings you to this bar?', the question made her snicker under her breath. Well pal, it's the only bar in town.
There wasn’t really anything to do, and Æsc was incredibly bored. Lucien and Pluto were off somewhere, and Æsc didn’t really like spending time with them anyway, when he could help it. The thirteen-year-old much preferred being on his own.
He readjusted his newsboy cap before shoving his hands in his coat pockets, kicking at the pavement while he wandered. There must be somewhere he could go and find something fun to do. He didn’t even get why Lu felt the need to move here, to some dingy apartments, to a room that was barely even big enough for three people to live in.
The boy’s eyes fell on a neon light, and he grinned. Shirley’s - a bar, right? Lucien had told him, he vaguely recalled. He rarely actually listened to Lu properly. But a bar, that’d probably have some interesting people in - and hey, if he was really lucky, they might be drunk enough that he could pickpocket them. Not that Æsc really needed people to be drunk to pickpocket them - he was pretty talented, if he did say so himself, and he stole enough on a daily basis to make a healthy living. Lucien knew about his activities, of course, but they never commented - whether because they didn’t want to start an argument, or because they secretly approved and were rather proud of him, Æsc wasn’t sure. One could never quite know what Lucien was thinking.
Heading into the pub, Æsc sauntered up to the bar and took a seat. Although he was tall for his thirteen years, it was readily clear the boy was under legal age; his frame was very slender, thanks to years of malnutrition that Lucien was still working to improve, and although he was clearly naturally handsome - his family might've sucked, but his genetics certainly didn't - he was still stuck in early teenage awkwardness, with lanky limbs and a confidence that wasn't quite secure in itself yet, but was well on its way.
Still, that confidence drove him to shooting the bartender a grin as he glanced around at the other patrons, trying to decide whether any of them looked like they'd prove interesting.
He readjusted his newsboy cap before shoving his hands in his coat pockets, kicking at the pavement while he wandered. There must be somewhere he could go and find something fun to do. He didn’t even get why Lu felt the need to move here, to some dingy apartments, to a room that was barely even big enough for three people to live in.
The boy’s eyes fell on a neon light, and he grinned. Shirley’s - a bar, right? Lucien had told him, he vaguely recalled. He rarely actually listened to Lu properly. But a bar, that’d probably have some interesting people in - and hey, if he was really lucky, they might be drunk enough that he could pickpocket them. Not that Æsc really needed people to be drunk to pickpocket them - he was pretty talented, if he did say so himself, and he stole enough on a daily basis to make a healthy living. Lucien knew about his activities, of course, but they never commented - whether because they didn’t want to start an argument, or because they secretly approved and were rather proud of him, Æsc wasn’t sure. One could never quite know what Lucien was thinking.
Heading into the pub, Æsc sauntered up to the bar and took a seat. Although he was tall for his thirteen years, it was readily clear the boy was under legal age; his frame was very slender, thanks to years of malnutrition that Lucien was still working to improve, and although he was clearly naturally handsome - his family might've sucked, but his genetics certainly didn't - he was still stuck in early teenage awkwardness, with lanky limbs and a confidence that wasn't quite secure in itself yet, but was well on its way.
Still, that confidence drove him to shooting the bartender a grin as he glanced around at the other patrons, trying to decide whether any of them looked like they'd prove interesting.
“*Hmmph*,boy are you sure you can be in here?” Said the man next to him. He was dressed in a dark-red fleece sweater and plaid black Pants with matching black dress shoes. He also wore a watch and a Dallas Cowboys Baseball-Hat, underneath that he wears his hair slicked back.
He gave the kid one of those “I Caught you red handed looks! your parents would give you as a small child.
He gave the kid one of those “I Caught you red handed looks! your parents would give you as a small child.
Æsc grinned at the guy who spoke to him, apparently unaffected by the look he received, or the chiding. "Aye, there's nowhere in this city I'm not allowed." He spoke in a strong London accent, the kind of accent that brought with it a naturally upbeat intonation. "You gonna tell me to leave?"
He smirked, leaning back against the bar and swinging his legs, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Some random guy speaking to him wasn't exactly going to stop Æsc from doing whatever he wanted, especially not when he wasn't really hurting anyone by being here. It wasn't even like he was drinking alcohol or anything. Vaguely, he wondered if he'd get served something alcoholic if he asked, but he quickly concluded that he answer was probably no.
He smirked, leaning back against the bar and swinging his legs, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Some random guy speaking to him wasn't exactly going to stop Æsc from doing whatever he wanted, especially not when he wasn't really hurting anyone by being here. It wasn't even like he was drinking alcohol or anything. Vaguely, he wondered if he'd get served something alcoholic if he asked, but he quickly concluded that he answer was probably no.
Hearing some mild commotion from a little ways down the bar counter to where she was sitting, Rowen shifted those eyes of her's, resting upon Richard, the grounds keeper at Paradise, and a boy with a familiar accent. He looked so young, younger than the teen she'd met the other day, the one she'd remembered the accent from. What had been his name? Luke? No, Lucien! Rowen remember because she linked his name to her favorite character in the Underworld movies. Sexy ass werewolf.
She gathered her thoughts back to the present and away from hunky, dirty wolf men. Before her, Richard was asking the younger accented kid if he should be in here, which he was technically not, but plenty'a bums brought their kiddos in here when they had no where else to leave them. There was only a problem when the underaged tried to drink, that was breaking the law.
Ah, it reminded her of the good ol' days. Sleezy bars back in NYC where no one gave even the slightest of fucks when a hot, young teenage girl came in requesting booze with an older brother. Rowen had been going to bars and drinking publicly since she was fourteen, when the tits grew in, while before that she and Axel would sneak bottles bought by older friends and get hammered out in the woods, in car garages, in their bathroom, hell- on their sofa in the living room. Not like their parents would've cared. Rowen scooted her bar stool noisily, and hopped off to stalk over to the kid and Richard.
"Hey fellas," She greeted, chunky lips pulled over her teeth in a devious grin. "Smells like trouble over here." Rowen stated, making dramatic sniffing noises as she passed Æsc and took the empty seat next to him, so he was now between the pale blonde and Richard.
She gathered her thoughts back to the present and away from hunky, dirty wolf men. Before her, Richard was asking the younger accented kid if he should be in here, which he was technically not, but plenty'a bums brought their kiddos in here when they had no where else to leave them. There was only a problem when the underaged tried to drink, that was breaking the law.
Ah, it reminded her of the good ol' days. Sleezy bars back in NYC where no one gave even the slightest of fucks when a hot, young teenage girl came in requesting booze with an older brother. Rowen had been going to bars and drinking publicly since she was fourteen, when the tits grew in, while before that she and Axel would sneak bottles bought by older friends and get hammered out in the woods, in car garages, in their bathroom, hell- on their sofa in the living room. Not like their parents would've cared. Rowen scooted her bar stool noisily, and hopped off to stalk over to the kid and Richard.
"Hey fellas," She greeted, chunky lips pulled over her teeth in a devious grin. "Smells like trouble over here." Rowen stated, making dramatic sniffing noises as she passed Æsc and took the empty seat next to him, so he was now between the pale blonde and Richard.
“I’m telling you because you youngin’s usually act like ya’ll own the town and these...well honey boo-boo pageant watching hillbillies don’t appreciate someone looking better than them, especially if their Younger than em’ and English.” He put $50 onto the table to pay off his tab. “I didn’t drink that much, I usually don’t pay.” He laughed off. “What brings you here pilgrim?” He started to fix his hat around.
Æsc glanced over as the woman approached them, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. "I think what you're smelling, aye," he said, wrinkling his nose for effect, and mustering the most disgusted expression he could - Lucien really was an excellent role model at times - "is alcohol, and I'm pre'y sure it's actually coming from you."
Until Lucien, nobody had ever taught Æsc what was and wasn't okay to say, so he'd quite happily insult people without really realising that it wasn't socially acceptable. Then Lucien had taught him that it wasn't okay, and now he quite happily insulted people while knowing full well it wasn't socially acceptable.
He blinked at the man, letting his confusion drift onto his face. "I unders'ood about half the words you just said," he informed him. What the hell was a honey boo-boo when it was at home? It must be some awful American thing. That was usually the conclusion he came to in matters like these. "I'm brough' 'ere by a string of murders that ain't been connected to me yet, but if I'd 'ung about London long enough, they would've been." It was a blantant lie, and delivered perfectly deadpan. "An' I'm brough' 'ere to this establishment by running from some geezer who didn' appreciate 'is watch bein' stole."
Until Lucien, nobody had ever taught Æsc what was and wasn't okay to say, so he'd quite happily insult people without really realising that it wasn't socially acceptable. Then Lucien had taught him that it wasn't okay, and now he quite happily insulted people while knowing full well it wasn't socially acceptable.
He blinked at the man, letting his confusion drift onto his face. "I unders'ood about half the words you just said," he informed him. What the hell was a honey boo-boo when it was at home? It must be some awful American thing. That was usually the conclusion he came to in matters like these. "I'm brough' 'ere by a string of murders that ain't been connected to me yet, but if I'd 'ung about London long enough, they would've been." It was a blantant lie, and delivered perfectly deadpan. "An' I'm brough' 'ere to this establishment by running from some geezer who didn' appreciate 'is watch bein' stole."
“I thought the Redcoats had proper English.” He poked back at the insult. He saw Rowen Roll up. “Hello Roe, I see your abusing the old well here,again, Did you enjoy the “Steaks” I made?” He started to lean on the counter to see Rowen from behind the kid. He kinda shrugged off the kids bullshit as a lie anyways.
Staring at the American, Æsc just sighed. Maybe he'd just never understand what it was the strange people of this country were saying. Hey, at least it seemed that the guy had shrugged off his claims as a lie. In his pocket, he could feel the comfortably heavy weight of an elderly gentleman's golden Rolex. Sure, the murders might've been a lie, but the theft certainly wasn't.
He turned to face the woman - Roe, apparently, although Æsc didn't remember Lucien ever mentioning a Roe when they told him about the people they'd met in the apartment block. Vaguely, he wondered what the steaks were. He'd ask, but he was concerned they might think he was interested, and actually tell him, and that would be a misteak.
At least if his career in petty theft failed, he could go into comedy.
He turned to face the woman - Roe, apparently, although Æsc didn't remember Lucien ever mentioning a Roe when they told him about the people they'd met in the apartment block. Vaguely, he wondered what the steaks were. He'd ask, but he was concerned they might think he was interested, and actually tell him, and that would be a misteak.
At least if his career in petty theft failed, he could go into comedy.
(MiSTEAK!!!!!!!! oml)
Rowen perched herself forward on the stool, smirking to herself at the kids comment, but not gifting it with a response. She liked a fellow with a quick tongue. And it wasn't as if he was wrong, she did smell like booze -
like everyone else in here, that and the strange smell of licorice that hung on her. Leaning forward against the bar counter on her elbows, she palmed the counter top a few times to collect the servers attention and order a round for herself.
Then her magnetic, predatory gaze turned to Richard, as if looking through the sly mouthed kid. She'd heard every word from his sassy, little mouth as he spoke to Richard, and hid her amusement of it behind dark, glistening eyes. "I see you're also here again to witness me abusing the ol' well again." She retorted, with a click of her tongue. At his next question, she thought back to the BBQ, only remembering bits and pieces, but the gator steak was one of them she did. "Yeah, weren't too shabby. I prefer my meat a little more bloody, but yeah, wasn't disgusting." Rowen complimented, sort of. Her attention turned back to the bar as three shots of Jack was delivered to her, and she thanked the server with a kiss blown from her finger tips.
Then, those eyes of her's were suddenly locked upon the young bloke sitting to her right. "So Kiddo, it sounds like ya had a busy night an' a severe case'a sticky fingers." Rowen began, pausing to knock back the first of the shots. "I hate the way your words sound, but I'm diggin' what you're sayin'. Tell me some more? You know who to sell your loot to 'round here? Or are you the type to take for keeps?" The pale blonde asked, eyeing up her second shot.
Rowen perched herself forward on the stool, smirking to herself at the kids comment, but not gifting it with a response. She liked a fellow with a quick tongue. And it wasn't as if he was wrong, she did smell like booze -
like everyone else in here, that and the strange smell of licorice that hung on her. Leaning forward against the bar counter on her elbows, she palmed the counter top a few times to collect the servers attention and order a round for herself.
Then her magnetic, predatory gaze turned to Richard, as if looking through the sly mouthed kid. She'd heard every word from his sassy, little mouth as he spoke to Richard, and hid her amusement of it behind dark, glistening eyes. "I see you're also here again to witness me abusing the ol' well again." She retorted, with a click of her tongue. At his next question, she thought back to the BBQ, only remembering bits and pieces, but the gator steak was one of them she did. "Yeah, weren't too shabby. I prefer my meat a little more bloody, but yeah, wasn't disgusting." Rowen complimented, sort of. Her attention turned back to the bar as three shots of Jack was delivered to her, and she thanked the server with a kiss blown from her finger tips.
Then, those eyes of her's were suddenly locked upon the young bloke sitting to her right. "So Kiddo, it sounds like ya had a busy night an' a severe case'a sticky fingers." Rowen began, pausing to knock back the first of the shots. "I hate the way your words sound, but I'm diggin' what you're sayin'. Tell me some more? You know who to sell your loot to 'round here? Or are you the type to take for keeps?" The pale blonde asked, eyeing up her second shot.
"Can I 'ave a... I dunno. A lemonade, please? Pu' it on the tab for Pluto Grey," Æsc asked the bartender, while Rowen spoke to Richard. His fake-father would pick it up later - or, more like, Lucien would pick it up later, but Pluto would carry out the actual transaction, since Lu was underage, and looked it even more than Æsc did. The tiny criminal barely looked like they were twelve, while Æsc could probably pass for fourteen or fifteen if he really wanted to.
"Aye," he responded to the weird woman. She was probably a nice person, but Æsc wasn't really into the whole making friends idea. Especially not with someone who looked and acted like she could probably drink his body weight in vodka. - that was a strong alcohol, right? For all his self-confidence, Æsc actually had very little experience with alcohol, or its different types. When he was on his own, he'd never been able to afford it, nor really seen the draw enough to favour it over food - and now, living with Lu, he rarely saw it. The older teenager never drank a drop of anything that didn't cost several thousand pounds to important from some obscure French or Italian vineyard. Right now, funds were kind of tight - or, at least, they were aiming to give that appearance - so Lu wasn't really drinking a lot. Other than tea. Æsc was pretty sure that Lu would choose tea over anything - shelter, food, makeup even.
"I know where to sell stuff," he continued, with a shrug. "Why, you offerin' 'elp to sell it on?" It always helped to have extra fences, anyway - especially someone who lived so close. "Some stuff I keep, though. You know, the pre'y things," he said, smirking.
"Aye," he responded to the weird woman. She was probably a nice person, but Æsc wasn't really into the whole making friends idea. Especially not with someone who looked and acted like she could probably drink his body weight in vodka. - that was a strong alcohol, right? For all his self-confidence, Æsc actually had very little experience with alcohol, or its different types. When he was on his own, he'd never been able to afford it, nor really seen the draw enough to favour it over food - and now, living with Lu, he rarely saw it. The older teenager never drank a drop of anything that didn't cost several thousand pounds to important from some obscure French or Italian vineyard. Right now, funds were kind of tight - or, at least, they were aiming to give that appearance - so Lu wasn't really drinking a lot. Other than tea. Æsc was pretty sure that Lu would choose tea over anything - shelter, food, makeup even.
"I know where to sell stuff," he continued, with a shrug. "Why, you offerin' 'elp to sell it on?" It always helped to have extra fences, anyway - especially someone who lived so close. "Some stuff I keep, though. You know, the pre'y things," he said, smirking.
“ Gator Steaks.” He kept this in his head and pretty much ignored literally everything else until he heard the youngin’ talk about being a criminal. “what are you up to? Rowen leave this kid alone, you’ll end up like her if you deal with her. Trust me on this kid, don’t deal with a junkie...I’ve made that mistake before.” He just blurted out as a Defense mechanism. He put a hand on
Æsc and attempted to take him away from this Crackie.
Æsc and attempted to take him away from this Crackie.
Rowen looked to be about to respond to the young boy, but Richard's outburst caught her attention and her mouth slowly closed, her thick lips pressing together tightly for a moment. A glare like that of a lioness with prey in her sights flashed up towards Richard, something dark and dangerous glistening in those green depths. She picked up her two remaining shots in her finger tips, scooting the bar stool out obnoxiously loud. "Fuck you, Richard. You got your little panties in a twist because you couldn't 'save me'. Stop chasing dead ends an' mind your own fucking business. You aren't some Mexican Superman, you're a fucking grounds keeper." She snarled, then downed one shot, then the other, snapping the small glasses back onto the counter top with a sharp 'clack'.
"Jackass..." She muttered, as she turned and began stalking away across the bar, flip flopd smacking the dirty bar floor. She paused at a table before reaching the doors to Shirley's, where two large men in leather jackets covered in patches were sat, laughing heartily with each other, a bottle of Jack between them. She reached between them over the table as they watched, grabbed the bottle by the neck and brought it to her lips, downing a few real good gulps, before returning it to the table, gifting the men with a tight, un-genuine smile, before stomping out the front door, letting it slam closed behind her.
Outside, the night was chill and threatened rain, heavy clouds hanging over head. She paused a half block down the street, outside the local pizza joint and dug her pack of smokes out of her back pocket. She pulled the lighter out of the half empty pack, then pulled a smoke out with her teeth. As she lit up her smoke, she relished in the fuzzy feeling settling over her brain and body, not casting a second thought to Richard's words. To be honest, she'd heard the same shit too many times by now to have any of it phase her - besides the initial annoyance. It was like a broken record playing it's tunes on repeat to a brick wall. In fact, his bitching may have had the opposite effect, because now her brain was making her skin itch for a hit. That oh so tasty sting of a needle, before the feeling of floating in the warm waters of euphoria. So, cigarette smoking in her mouth, she began the short march home back to Paradise.
"Jackass..." She muttered, as she turned and began stalking away across the bar, flip flopd smacking the dirty bar floor. She paused at a table before reaching the doors to Shirley's, where two large men in leather jackets covered in patches were sat, laughing heartily with each other, a bottle of Jack between them. She reached between them over the table as they watched, grabbed the bottle by the neck and brought it to her lips, downing a few real good gulps, before returning it to the table, gifting the men with a tight, un-genuine smile, before stomping out the front door, letting it slam closed behind her.
Outside, the night was chill and threatened rain, heavy clouds hanging over head. She paused a half block down the street, outside the local pizza joint and dug her pack of smokes out of her back pocket. She pulled the lighter out of the half empty pack, then pulled a smoke out with her teeth. As she lit up her smoke, she relished in the fuzzy feeling settling over her brain and body, not casting a second thought to Richard's words. To be honest, she'd heard the same shit too many times by now to have any of it phase her - besides the initial annoyance. It was like a broken record playing it's tunes on repeat to a brick wall. In fact, his bitching may have had the opposite effect, because now her brain was making her skin itch for a hit. That oh so tasty sting of a needle, before the feeling of floating in the warm waters of euphoria. So, cigarette smoking in her mouth, she began the short march home back to Paradise.
“See, crackie.” He laughed. He watched her leave and didn’t take anything she inanely blurted to annoy him, words are just words. He had two more shots of tequila and began to speak “So, you want to get into this business? I can help you, when I was younger I hustled watches,necklesses, and some cars. I can help you.” He was kinda drunk now.
Watching Roe - or Rowen, maybe. Yeah, that sounded more familiar - leave, Æsc smirked, very amused. Richard had managed to get quite a rise out of her, and in all honesty - though he'd never sink so low as to admit it - Æsc was kind of impressed. It was for that reason that he decided to humour Richard's offer of help. Otherwise, he would've rejected it with disdain - Æsc didn't need anyone's help, and he never had. He got by just fine on his own, and he wasn't exactly a newcomer to the pickpocket game.
"'ow d'you propose 'elping me?" Æsc accepted his lemonade from the bartender with a nod of thanks, sitting to stare at Richard. His dark eyes were challenging, as though he didn't believe Richard could offer anything of worth and was daring the groundskeeper to prove him wrong, and still held that hint of amusement from watching Rowen storm out.
"'ow d'you propose 'elping me?" Æsc accepted his lemonade from the bartender with a nod of thanks, sitting to stare at Richard. His dark eyes were challenging, as though he didn't believe Richard could offer anything of worth and was daring the groundskeeper to prove him wrong, and still held that hint of amusement from watching Rowen storm out.
"I'm pretty sure It's time to tell you, I stole that stolen watch. I also can help you out with funds, I have a fence here that can turn rags into riches. You can be like me friend, kinda rich. It's up to you kid, by the way I'm Richard or you can call me whatever." He finished his drink and put a hand out to the petty thief.