Taylor had spent the day seeing the sites of the city, doing the tourist thing you may say, and it had ended on the famous Bourbon Street. The night had fallen and it was going to be a bit of a walk back home, so before setting out he decided to grab a drink at a restaurants bar that was opened to the street. The bar smelled of spilled liquor, smoke, and lower ambition.Ordering a simple glass of whiskey, he always enjoyed slowly sipping on the warm liquor when he wanted to relax.The bar itself was colored in the normal purple and yellow of mardi gras, with several lines of different beer companies going this way and that.The patrons were a mixed lot, young and old; locals and tourist.
They all sat scattered around not wanting to intrude on each others conversations.
Near the end of the long counter with a view of the street was near empty and Taylor claimed as his own sitting down and took a sip of his drink.The whiskey wasn’t the best in the world.With a quick look around he activated his left hand and soft silver light emitted for just a few seconds.With another sip, from watered down to top shelf, he smiled aw much better as the normal warmness filled his stomach.
He watched the people move through the early night walking up and down the street.What this place would be like during Mardi Gras he only imagined, he’d have to look into renting one of the rooms so he could watch the crowds from above.Being down in it would to much for him all that pushing, shoving and people all around him, it wasn’t safe.Sipping his drink he sat, watched and imagined.
His shift was over. His reports handed in, now, all that was left was his usual routine of heading home, having a bowl of instant ramen, and going to bed. For the first time in a while, however, he felt the sluggishness eating at him. So, having nothing but ramen day after day was truly not good for you, even with heartier things like pork, steak, chicken, or whatever else, with it. Even Miso Ramen didn't sound appetizing at the moment. He dug into his pocket, and checked his wallet. It would be a stretch, but he could afford a night out tonight.
Jett would enter the first place along Bourban Street that he would find, for Bourban Street was simply a convenient location, being equal in distance between the station and his home. Bar/Restaurant, or Bar and Grill was still reasonably cheap, and so once inside, he would get a table, and order a drink before looking over the menu. However, though off duty, he was always keeping his eyes open for any dirty deeds. Because Dirty Deeds were done dirt cheap, but dirty deeds could land him a seat. A promotion perhaps, to a better paying job, so that perhaps he wouldn't be hard up for cash. He doubted such would be the case however, as it hadn't been anything but hard for him in his entire life to this point. Still, he was hopeful, and kept an eye on the crowd, even as he glanced now and again to the menu.
Eventually, his drink would arrive, a simple soda. Dr. Pepper. He'd order something randomly from the page of the menu he was on, simply pointing to the cheapest thing on that page, before handing the menu back, and resuming his perusal of the bar.
It was a dive of a bar, but Brooklyn Dechanel and her bandmates saw it as an opportunity to jam out and get their faces and music out there. The blonde rat-ling began to set up her equipment, and the mic in which she could sing to her hearts content. She had Nicole Monday on background vocals and keyboards, Charity Beckham on drums, Hirumi Kagasaki on bass guitar, and Orianthi Pangaris on lead guitar. Together, they were Broken Monday.
Brooklyn announced their impromptu concert to the crowd at the restaurant/bar where they were at as her bandmates got their equipment from the back of Nicky's van and set up on the stage. It was usually used for karaoke, but the manager of the bar said they could do a few songs for an hour. Brooklyn would put that hour to the test alright. She was dressed up in a cropped shirt, that once was a Nirvana T-Shirt, but she had shredded it, along with a short leather skirt and black boots that went up to her knees.
Once they were all set, they decided to do two good songs. Covers of other bands. They'd save their own songs for the recording studio when they had a contract signed. They did a sound check, and tuned their instuments before breaking out into a great Alternative rock ballad, Brooklyn's voice smooth as silk, and the band doing their thing, bassist Hirumi pumping up the crowd to clap with the beat, and guitarist Orianthi shouting to the crowd through her mic, "lets hear it for Broken Monday!"
The first song turned out to be one of Brooklyn's because she wanted to expose the public to their music, and not just think of them as a cover band. According to the roaring applause after she finished singing, she could tell Anticonformity was going to be a big hit. The second was a hit by Flyleaf, that got the crowd rocking. Before leaving the stage, a pumped up Brooklyn shouted in her mic to the crowd, "Broken Monday people, remember the name!"
It took a little time to pack up their equipment after their set was done. It had been a good gig. Maybe next time they could do it for longer, but for now Brooklyn was satisfied. She and her bandmates hit the bar, and had a few drinks and mingled with the other patrons while they were there, relaxing from their rockin'.
-- Edited by BROOKLYN DECHANEL on Sunday 28th of August 2011 01:07:58 PM
-- Edited by BROOKLYN DECHANEL on Sunday 28th of August 2011 01:19:15 PM
Taylor was halfway through his third day dream when the music started up with a bang. Where was his head at he wondered I keep wondering going off, it’s because I’m to relaxed, I haven’t had to run for my life in awhile that had to be it. Turning around and placing his back against the bar he took the last sip of his whiskey and made a motion of his hand to the bar tender for a refill since talking would be useless over the band that had just started. Waiting for his drink he scanned the crowd, which seemed to have increase with the start of live music. It wasn’t too crowded yet but after this last drink he probably should start to head home, too many people always made Taylor nervous.
His eyes shifted over the crowd as they cheered some from their tables others had gotten up to make small crowd in front of the band. Taylor found himself tapping his foot along with original song, it wasn’t that bad, at least it wasn’t pop; he could never stand that crap. The bartender had finally gotten his drink, holding the whiskey down under the small lip of the bar in his left hand he activated his power one more time for a count of slow 5 count. The silver light softly shown from under the bar, as the light first surrounds the glass and then falls into the amber liquor. The taste was delicious, and the warmth welcoming.
Half way through first song Taylor got it into his blurry head that he needed something more to really enjoy this music. Mary Jane would fit right with this music, crowd and his mood. Taylor didn’t have a bad habit just liked it ever once and while when the mood was right and to him the mood right now was defiantly right. He scanned the crowd making mental notes of people that may have some. He was pretty sure that the head chick singing most likely was holding, but wasn’t that a rule somewhere if your in a rock band it was a necessity. Like you get it in a welcome basket back stage. He smiled to his tipsy self at the idea. Shifting his focus he found Jett…..maybe he thought, well one way to find out if he was wrong a simple apologue and it would be done no harm no foul.
With another motion to the bar tender another glass was brought with whiskey. 1,2,3,4,5 and silver light flowed from under the bar lip again. After it was done Taylor swayed a bit and placed a steadying hand on the bar. God I hate that he thought shaking his head to clear the whiskey fog and stood up straight. He zig zagged through the crowd near the back where it wasn’t so thick to get to Jett’s table. Reaching the table he pulled out a chair and sat down with smile on his face. Leaning abit over to be heard over the music “I’m sorry for interrupting your meal in such a way but I bought you drink. Whiskey, goes very well with (points to the plate of what Jetts eating) that.” Slides the glass over to him and smiles. “I won’t take up much more of your time but I did have a question. Are you holding Mary Jane perhaps? If not please keep the whiskey and I’ll be on my way.” With a smile he waits for a response.
Unfortunately for Brooklyn, the fun that accompanied the intake of booze and weed, eluded her now that she was a lycan. She could smoke until she looked like a chimney, eyes all bloodshot from reefer, but she still couldn't get high. And no matter how many shots of Patron she did at the bar, she wouldn't even get a buzz from it.
So she was kind of acting as a designated driver/responsible person as she leaned against the bar, a human had brought a drink over for her and she accepted it for a game of pool. Leaving her bandmates for the time being, Hirumi, Charity and Nicky, all had a conversation going with a group of cute guys.
Her emerald gaze looked over towards the table where Taylor was leaning with the whiskey, and a smile curved her lips as she heard him clearly ask for "mary jane." Jesus the things kids could get themselves into. She held the cue stick and leaned forward to rest her fingers on the greenish surface of the pool table, taking her shot.
Stripes was hers, solids the guy's, whose name was Rick. Last name not James. 3, 7, 5 went in the side and corner pockets, and she gazed back at the two men, Jett and Taylor, wondering if the one with the strange energy was going to get his fix of THC for the day. It would be an interesting development, surely.
In an hour, Brooklyn had won that game, and didn't want to play again. She returned to the bar, and watched the young guys try to coax the girls into coming home with them. Brooklyn rolled her eyes at the group, and ordered a Crown Royal on the rocks. But in drinking it, it didn't have the same jolt it once had when she was human.
Although she planned on staying over at Nicky's, she really needed to go back to the Rodere and patch things up with Alex. Talk about good things going dreadfully bad! Their conversation just went south, as far as it could go, until both were-rats were cussing at each other, and telling one another to fuck off. So Brooklyn had that weighing heavily on her mind.
It was then she got up the nerve to go over to Jett's table and speak to the pair. About what? She didn't know. She didn't care either, as long as it distracted her from her Rodere problems. Brooklyn was lonely, even in a crowded house. She didn't know very many except for Alex and Theo, and she wasn't talking much to Alex.
A smile turned her lips up at the corners, as she held her drink, and looked to the two men. "Bon jour. My name is Brooklyn Dechanel. And you both are?" she said, wanting to know names, information was basically what rats were best at. Just then the manager of the bar came over with a check for Broken Monday's performance.
It had to be split 5 ways, and it was $300. So 60 bucks a head. "Thank you Mr. Lagassi." she said, tucking the check away. It would have to be cashed, and the proceeds doled out. But Brooklyn could do a lot with $60. Like save it for a rainy day. New strings for her guitar. Lots of things.
"SO what brings you two out tonight?" asked Brooklyn, who sipped her liquid courage like a champion, as she waited for answers to her questions. In the meantime she pulled up an extra chair, and sat down at the table. No she wasn't asked, but she was pretty and charming, and could make most men drool. Add to it a kick ass voice, and the fact she could rock an electric guitar. Nuff said.
Whiskey went well with what he ate? He glanced down at his plate of paprika spiced potato wedges, and bacon cheeseburger. Well, one could say it was a good combo, perhaps. However, this absolutely had to go down in the books as the most humorous things done in the world. A man approaching a cop in a bar, and asking for drugs. Jett may have been dressed in civilians at the time, but he was still a police officer, through and through. He set his Dr. Pepper down, and glanced at the whiskey. It wasn't his sort of drink, but then again not much was with his conditions.
"You can keep the drink, and no, I do not."
Rest assured though, he would not be letting Taylor know about what he was. If Taylor decided to continue this pursuit in the evening, he would remain nearby and silent, simply to keep watch. If he got his hands on what he sought, such a prize would land him in a cell. On duty or not, Jett was still a cop.
When the young gal who had been on stage came over, he'd lift his head, and do his best to change his mood. He smiled to her, and gave her a nod, the best he could.
"Hello there." He'd say with a grin, waving a hand out to another empty seat at his table to invite her to join. It seemed everyone was joining him tonight, and he silently wondered why all of a sudden. He wasn't used to it. He was used to being avoided due to his abilities and past.
"Just enjoying a burger, myself." He said, and leaned back in his seat. He took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, and would watch the two. He wasn't cautious about any of Brooklyn's behaviour really, but he was definitely keeping an eye on Taylor.
Brooklyn had to admit it really was a douche move from Taylor to walk up to a guy while he's eating a burger and ask for a little marijuana. Especially if they were total strangers to one another. There was no telling the reaction from the man sitting at the table but if Taylor had instead asked her for THC she would have laughed in the poor guys face. Really.
Not knowing Jett was a cop, that would have been an epic fail on Taylor's part. Plus if Jett was feeling not so generous, he would have busted him on the spot for possession of an illegal substance. Even if Taylor hadn't had reefer to begin with. Brooklyn hadn't done drugs since she was 14, having been sent to rehab by her parents she stayed on the straight and narrow path now.
"You don't mind if I join you?" she asked the question rather redundantly, since the carrot top was offered a seat at Jett's table. Dressed in her stage gear, and smoky eye makeup, her lips pursed as she looked Jett's way. He certainly didn't seem like the type of guy she would approach on any given day to conversate with, much less join for dinner. A customer had bought her a Long Island Iced Tea, for her performance on the stage.
It was a fat, balding guy that wriggled his fingers at her from the bar. Eww. She leaned against the table, not catching the burger man's name if he gave it. Perhaps he was waiting on Taylor to make tracks since his drink got refused. "I would take you for a beer man, rather than a whiskey man." she smiled, flipping back her stylish red and blonde streaked hair. A nose ring was inserted in her septum like an upside down U.
"I hope you enjoyed the music. My band has really worked hard to get our feet off the ground....what did you say your name was?"Brooklyn asked with a nice arch to her brow. He had a strange energy signature around him that the little rat in her could detect. Volatility was the word that came to her mind. Was she tempting fate, one never could tell with Brooke. She was a risk taker, and a rule breaka. She didn't care about his reputation or past either.
Her own past had been just as painful. Growing up in Montreal, Quebec. Essentially a self-imposed loner because all the kids berated and teased her all the way from middle school to high school. The days where she just wanted to say 'fuck it' and off herself. The drugs, the sex, the alcohol, the rehab. The tragic circumstances of her date dying prom night, because he was in a hurry to get Brooklyn home to keep her from throwing up drunk in his Dad's SUV. The blame and guilt. Running away from Canada, for new opportuniities in America.
The fact she had been infected the night the SUV crashed, while hanging upside down in the wrecked vehicle, and found out the hard way she was a were-rat when she shifted in Pulaski for the first time. Those were hard memories to bear, but bear them she did. She fought her pessimistic side constantly for control. The feeling of not fitting in, not belonging fading some now that she was part of the rodere. Things were definitely looking up.
Hearing No, I don’t Taylor frowned.“Are you sure?I’m not a cop or anything, I’m not wired.”After the second rejection Taylor grins. “Ok, ok I’m sorry to bother you man.”
Damn by the look of this guy (Just looking at your Signature) he assumed it was a pretty good bet, but it wasn’t the first time Taylor’s instincts lead him down the wrong path.At least tonight wasn’t one of those horrible nights where his path was leading to total destruction; that had only happened maybe twice in his life and was never pretty.His last run had left him feeling relaxed and his usual guard down.After nights like that it always took a while for old safe and quiet Taylor to fully take control again.Till then might as well have some fun the little devil on his shoulder would be yelling at him.
He was about to continue his search and was saying “Well I hope you have a good night.”When the lead singer of that band came over and sat down.What were the chances of that ever happening, Taylor had planned if this had failed to ask maybe basses if she was holding but for the lead singer to just show up at his table.This stuff didn’t happen; unless her and soda man knew each other, but hey his luck might be changing.He had some acquaintances back in his old life that did the whole music thing and most of the time they were up for having some fun.With a semi drunk grin on his face he slid Jett’s denied whiskey over to Brooklyn
“Why hello.” He bowed his head slightly.“I was just telling my new buddy here that I haven’t heard such a set of golden pipes like yours in long time.I like your sound.”Holding his near empty glass in the air and motioning with one hand to the barmaid for refill.“Will you join me in a toast to good food, good people, and kick ass band.”Taylor watches to see if others join and laughs as two nearby tables, who must be getting just as drunk as Taylor is getting, join him as well raising their glasses and with a hoot downed their beers without waiting for the rest.“Aw come on big guy you can toast with us with your soda pop.”He smiles at Jett “Do you want to live forever.” In a horrible impression of Drill Sargent.
Not a cop? What an ironically hilarious thing to say. It was all he could do to keep the laughter within. With that succesful, he would turn his eyes back upon Brooklyn. To be honest, he hadn't paid much attention to the music. Now, he hadn't tuned it out completly, but it definitely had been in the back of his mind; last on his list of worries. Nevertheless, he had offered the young lady a seat, and so when she sought to clarify the offer, he would nod to her, and motion once more to the seat.
"The music was indeed quite good. My name is Jett, and your name is?" The inquiry to her name would be given with an outstretched hand to give her a handshake. Of course, even as his eyes were on her, he would still keep aware of Taylor's actions.
Taylor's response to Brooklyn's arrival at the table was ... expected. He had a feeling such a response was given, as he seemed the sort to butter up a woman no matter the situation of their meeting. Oh yes, they had been talking about her. Her name was Mary Jane, yes? Jett snickered at himself, and leaned back in his seat.
Then came the whole bit with the toast. More apallingly ironic activity. It was downright comedic. This time, to contain his laughter, he would simply lift his glass, and take a sip at his soda. All praise the Dr Pepper!
Ren was mentally reliving each conversation, each tidbit of information she'd learned, seen, or felt, since she'd reached New Orleans. Baton Rouge was not quite as....alive, as NOLA.
It was thirsty work. As she walked down the street, she spotted the bar, its glowing neon lights and the sounds of a kick ass band seeping through the doorway, growing louder as it opened each time, and fading a bit when it closed. Ren had no trouble hearing each note, each word, nor did she miss the applause when they concluded their song.
"What the hell?" she thought to herself. A drink would be welcomed. It was hot, humid, and seemed like summer would never end.
Converse covered feet led her inside. She wore loose fitting BDU's, a black beater-esq type of shirt, that showed the tips of the tattooed wings on her back rounding her shoulders. Long brown hair, pulled together midway up the back of her head bounced around as she entered. And went straight to the bar. When approached she'd order a corona with lime and leave a 50 on the countertop in front of her.
Being who she was, or rather, what she was. She let her eyes roam the room. The essance of each individual, human, human, ohh tingle of the nose feeling, human, humanish, human. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Here's hoping she would too. Fun isn't as easily found as one would think.
Well it was no wonder that Taylor was talking a lot of shit. He was so tipsy he could hardly stand, and she shrugged lightly as the drink was offered to her. She was game. "Cheers!" said Brooklyn in a toast. She was in a pretty amicable mood. Whiskey was downed without a blink of her beautiful emerald eyes. "Why, thanks for the drink. You are...?" she asked Taylor. The were-rat picked up all kinds of energies around her, as well as scents.
Having taken the offer of a seat, she tugged at the shredded Nirvana shirt for a moment, before looking Jett's way. "My name is Brooklyn...Brooklyn Dechanel." She took his hand and shook it, saying, "Nice to meet you Jett. I'm glad you liked the music. Our band's called Broken Monday." she said to both Taylor and Jett, since they both liked the sound that Broken Monday had put out. "We hope to be famous some day. And you'll both be a part of our history." she said cheerfully.
Some energy registered near the bar, as her gaze drifted there. Weird. Felt like something died, but not exactly. Animated flesh, but weak. Green eyes shifted back to the table, where a waitress was waiting to take her order. Brooklyn was hungry and hadn't eaten all day. "I'll have a Pub Burger with cheese, fries and a beef chili cheese dog. Coke to drink." Brooklyn had enough money to swing it, she had just performed.
But being a smart ass, and Taylor being a drunken idgit, she said. "Hey. You said you would make a toast to good food. You buying?" she grinned, a slight overbite was present but it wasn't terribly noticeable. "I'm a gal that drinks whiskey, but I like to eat too. So if you toast to it, you're gonna have to put out, or get out." Famous last words.
The dance of the whiskey sprites were flying through his head as he downed his drink he had toasted with.OKAY, have to slow down or at least drink the low shelf stuff for a while this wasn’t spring break in Panama City after all and he still had to stumble home at some point.With what he believed was his best smile (which really was just goofy looking) he half listened to the conversation between the two.As the conversation was going on Taylor quietly scoots his chair back and taps college kid that had toasted with him on the shoulder. “Excuses me do you happen to know anywhere to find some THC I have a medical condition damn restless leg syndrome.”Guy whispers back (If you can hear Meet me out back in 15).Taylor slides his chair back as Jett and Brooklyn introduce themselves.“I go by Sticks some times mainly cause of my willow arms.”There really was no muscle mass to the boy just slim and tone.“I’d shake both your hands but” holding up his right hand the skin of the palm is dark, leathery and skin is cracked “my own mother wouldn’t touch this.”
He really had enjoyed the music but the thought of being part of anyone’s history didn’t seem likely.So many bands out there and so few made it to super stardom; what were the chances that Taylor could say that he saw one of them in a small bar in New Orleans one hot summer night… I think I would have better chance of becoming mayor.Glancing over to the bar he noticed the young women looking over the room, to Taylor it looked like someone that would know possible threats, possible weapons, and most importantly possible Exits, in other words a women not to fuck with unless careful.I wonder if she’s single his drunken mind went to.
His mind came back to the conversation when Brooklyn was trying to get a free meal.Well hell he could play this game, besides his karma was good the past couple days might as well build it up some more to help when it swung other way.Sliding his hand into his pocket pulled out his wallet 300 dollars he counted to himself.“I’ll go ahead and pay my tap.Also please put the lady’s and gentlemen’s meal on there as well also whatever that lady over there is drinking I’ll buy her next round.” Taylor hands the waitress the required amount and a decent tip.“So I guess I put out, does that make me a slut?”
If she was a mind reader, she probably would have popped Taylor a good one. Broken Monday was the shit as far as Brooklyn was concerned, and they had every intention of becoming famous, even though they were playing their music at this little dive for extra money. A band had to start somewhere, and Brooklyn was working extra hard with Nicky to get the band venues other than little bars and grills.
Jett was being super polite, and that was cool with her. But Taylor, whether from the drink or the fact he was attempting to score some weed, was basically chapping her ass. Even though he paid for everyone ones tab. But Brooklyn didn't say anything to him except "Thanks. I appreciate you 'putting out'. Whether he was a slut or not, well Taylor opened his own mouth and declared it to everyone around him.
She wouldn't judge. A glance was given Candra at the bar. Since Taylor had bought her a drink, and Brooklyn wasn't particularly rude, she waved at the woman and said, "Come sit with us!" If Candra didn't want to, or if she did, it was up to her now. The ball was in her court. "I think you've had enough to drink...Sticks. Maybe you should sit down before you make an ass of yourself."
-- Edited by BROOKLYN DECHANEL on Wednesday 7th of September 2011 12:09:58 PM
It just happened to be a cowinkiedink, that Ren finished off her drink, when another popped in front of her. The bartender telling her who it was from. She raised the bottle in the air in salute. And thanks.
Then the call of the girl calling her over. She took a moment, thought about it, and thought 'What the hell? Nothing ventured nothing gained.'
It didn't escape her notice that the voice that called her over was the voice that had drawn her attention and had her entering the bar.
The girl wasn't human...well, neither was Ren. She took her beer and moved over to their table. "Nice pipes." She said as she sat. A nod given to Jett as she sat angling the chair so her back was more towards the wall, facing out into the room.
It turned out that once the woman got to the table, the feeling of death came with her, kinda vampirey. Hmm. Maybe she hung out with them? Brooklyn thought to herself. The woman introduced herself as Ren. Brooklyn stood up, in order to make room for her at Jett's table and moved her chair over so Ren could sit down and join them. She hoped that Jett didn't mind.
"Thanks for the compliment, all of you." she said to Jett, Sticks, and Ren. If they suspected that she was a girl of approximately 18 then they were wrong. She had been 18 when the rat lycanthropy set in, when she had been attacked the night of her senior prom after the horrific car accident that took her date's life. Brooklyn was actually 23 years old now. A woman.
So there they were at the table. One big happy family. "So what do you do Ren?" she asked quizzically taking everyone in like the rat she was. Always gathering information, because one never really knew when it would come in handy. "Jett?" "Sticks?" Brooklyn smiled, wanting to know what everyone else did for a living, since they already knew what she did.
Her food arrived, and it was enough for an army. But it didn't seem to bother Brooke. She dug right in, offering Taylor some hot french fries to go with the buzz he had going. Some food would probably help if he didn't already have some in his system. "Help yourself." she said. Making short work of the chili hot dog, she ate the cheeseburger a little more like a nibble here and a nibble there as she waited for responses to her questions.
Vampy? Moi? But...but...there was a heartbeat...a pulse. As all American as you can get from someone who was born the same year as a bronze equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson was unvieled, or even better yet, when the US was making three dollar gold pieces. The same year Giuseppe Verdi's Opera "La Traviata," premiered in Venice, and also the same year The Northern Daily Times, 1st provincial daily newspaper, started in London.
The weight of the ages was in those big brown eyes, but yet again, the times they do change, and so did she. Mostly, she could blend into the human world, noted more as the 'tom boy' type. But Georgia Grace was working hard to change that. Poor thing.
"I'm a tattoo artist," She answered Brooklyn, "Temporarily unemployed." Fair enough, and truth as far as she was concerned. Not the only job she had, but the only one she willingly shared.
To Taylor everyone was just normal in the bar and to his eyes everyone was human at the table…that is except for him.Sure he had seen the news about the Vampires and Weres being real and out there, and the occasional debates with the talking news heads about their rights and such, but meet one face to face and know it, no.Believing is seeing to Taylor and so far nothing to strange had reared its ugly head when Taylor was around.One of the reasons he didn’t believe in the God thing just too much fantasy for his liking and not enough fact.Taylor was a freak in his own mind, a one and only person that was cursed that had to live on the fringe of what was considered normal, and it wasn’t too bad.He would keep telling himself that and one day he hoped he would believe it. So sitting there at that table munching on the occasional fry from Brooklyn’s plate he smiled.
With a bit of a sway from front to back and finishing with a grab to the back of the chair to stabilize him he nodded as he sat back down in his chair almost tipping it over.“WOW, you know Boston.” It was Boston right, the little drunken office workers in his memory were arguing about what it was all he could remember was it a City. “You may be right about that sitting down thing I wouldn’t want to fall on my ass.”
In reply to Ren’s thank you Taylor raised a near empty glass in salute “Your welcome, please excuse me for not standing it could have dangerous results. I hope the drink doesn’t make your boyfriend jealous when he gets here.My friends call me Sticks.”
Munching away on a fry he listened as Ren said what she did.“DUDE, tattoos are sweet, I’ve always wanted to get like R2-D2 on my chest.”A light seems to blink on in his head a couple seconds later, and he pats his wallet.“You wouldn’t happen to have your tattoo stuff with you anywhere would you……I’m willing to pay to help someone out who needs some work.”This was best idea; well second best after finding weed, that Taylor had all day.All the drunken office workers in his head seemed to agree with a cheer of R2, R2, R2 so it had to be.
“Hell, Jett you look like a man that would get inked want to go in with me you can get C3-PO.”
Did Taylor just really call her fucking "Boston?" Jesus H. Christ. "Ahem. The name is Brooke. Maybe you can attempt to remember that, eh?" she said to Sticks. After that mouthful, she seriously doubted that he would make a fool of himself standing up, he could do the same thing sitting down. Russet brows arched some as Ren told her that she was a tattoo artist.
"Nifty. I have a tattoo on my hip. Flaming cherries." she smiled. Glancing over at Jett who was still eating, and then Taylor who hadn't said anything intelligent since he had approached Jett's table looking for weed, she currently was listening to him blather on about getting a tattoo. Of R2-D2 on his chest. "Why you get a tattoo on your dick, bro. Size small." Brooklyn laughed, her sense of humor was ribald, and often sarcastic.
"You had to be there, Sticks." knowing the guy who was pretty high as it were would not get the joke, as the conversation continued. "That is great. Maybe you can either work in a tattoo parlor, or open one. I'd come get another tat--" but then she was interrupted by Taylor again, he wanted to go get this fucking tattoo of R2-D2 and was asking Ren if she had her equipment with her. God what a fucktard. "Do you think that she would tattoo you in an alley, bub? I think thats a good way to get Hep B."
Apparently his alcohol addled brain wasn't making any sense. Taylor was nice, but just...drunk. He probably wouldn't even remember asking Jett to accompany him for a tattoo, of C-3PO when the guy was obviously not interested in accepting a scotch whiskey from Taylor a few moments ago. But she would just let it ride. If Ren wanted to deal with Sticks, then she certainly could have at it. Until then, she let him eat his fill of the fries he bought for her. She could at least be nice to him, even if he was drunk.
Ren patted down the front of her jacket with a small smile. "Nothing on me tonight Sport, sorry. Maybe another time?"
She couldn't surpress the small chuckle that escaped. Sometimes she wished she could get ripped like that. Totally annihilated and not have to worry about a damned thing. Not in her cards, but she was ok with it. When Brooklyn commented she had to laugh in her hand pretending to cough.
This is what she had needed. To go beyond her comfort zone of only knowing necessary people, and meeting those who were in the world. At least that's what she was told when New Orleans became her assignment. And she had to admit the old fart was right.
To Brooklyn, in answer to her cut off comment. "I've thought about looking around for a job, just been trying to get a handle on the city." Now both females knew the other wasn't human. Ren didn't know what Brooklyn was, and vice versa, but the look Ren would give her, left no doubt in the woman's mind that Ren was looking into things other than the best sight seeing attractions.
To Taylor she patted his hand. "We can work something out when you're sober, huh?"
Jett had been silent up until now, just listening in as was his thing, and getting to know those that had decided to make themselves into his company. So much for a quiet little meal. Well, that's what he gets for not simply going home, having a bowl of instant ramen, and going to bed.
Jett of course looked like a man who would get inked up, for under that black 'wife beater' was the tatts that he already had, peaking out from the fabric. On his biceps, were coiled serpents, and on his chest, peaking through the beater, were the wings of a dragon.
And Brook asked about jobs? What they did for a living? This was too good. With Tyler still sitting there and nearby, he brought his glass to his lips, but before taking a sip he would say. "I'm a cop." Simple, plain, oh yes, just part of the conversation, then took the sip of his drink, drawing it out to finish what was left in the glass, and then sat it down on the table. He couldn't help the grin that followed.
Of course, that grin only grew as the two gals berrated the drunken man. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But such a feeling passed, as he merely chuckled. He'd wave to the waitress, and get a refill on his drink. Now, he didn't want to go home, because the berratement of this drunken man had become to entertaining.
