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Post by Ginna Lovett on Mar 3, 2011 22:45:28 GMT -5
(ooc; Agh. My thread names are always so cheesy xD)   Ginna walked solemnly into the Poison Apple. She'd just barely gotten away from a heist that she'd been sent on this evening. Honestly, who kept guard dogs anymore? That was so twentieth century. There was better technology nowadays. Not that she could complain. It was a lot easier on her and her job. She'd managed to get away with what seemed to be jewels of great value. So what if that seemed too normal for a thief? Stealing jewels. They caught a great price.
Ginna took a look around the bar. It was full of the same faces she saw every time she came in here. Wow, there were a lot of souls in Faraway that were looking for an escape of sorts. Here in this town you only have drugs or alcohol. Ginna preferred the latter. Drugs made you all trippy, and she'd seen those kids down at Fairy Dust, going around with that dazed look in their eye. It was freaking creepy, okay? No, she just preferred to come out to the bar and get herself fucked up. It was a nice feeling. In fact, she came here so often that the "regular" crowd knew her by name.
As she made her way up to the bar, several different people were greeting her by name. She knew who they were as well. Hey, what other fun could you have when all you did for a living was steal things from people? Not much. Drinking was fun! Once you got over your hangover. But by this point, Ginna knew so many remedies, she was barely affected by her hangovers anymore. She's good at her sport. I guess you could say that.
She sat in one of the many barstools, ordering up a shot of whiskey - she didn't like the pansy stuff - and throwing it back within minutes of receiving it. She was going to get slammed tonight, and she was going to have fun doing it too. But who knows? Maybe something fun will happen tonight?
 * * *words;; INFINITY.
thoughts;; Lol. So random. xD |
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Hunter O'Neil
New Member
"Baby, in the end...we all die alone."[Mo0:22]
Posts: 19
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Post by Hunter O'Neil on Mar 5, 2011 21:59:05 GMT -5
 HE’S A REAL NOWHERE MANSITTING IN HIS NOWHERE LANDMAKING ALL HIS NOWHERE PLANS FOR NOBODY
“FUCK YOU, MAN.”
Just the three little words that every guy wanted to hear on his night off, right? And, coming from a junked out kid in pants that were just about to fall down to his ankles, everything was ten times worse.
Ah, he sure did love helping out a neighbor- a Mrs. Deborah McLin, whose son he was currently frog marching away from a particularly graffitied alleyway- in need. All he had to frikken say was that he’d better get a week’s worth of thank-you muffins out of this one.
Little Bobby McLin, one of Faraway’s many cokeheads, was the spitting image of an everyday drug abuser. He had the red rimmed eyes, the beaded pupils, heavy breathing and stale smelling body. And if that stain on the back of his shorts was anything but dirt, he was gonna get a size 7 and a half shoe up his craggy ass.
“Just shut the hell up and keep walking, Bobby,” Came a very irritated growl. It took all of his self control, but he managed not to beat the shit out of the scarecrow of a kid. “Your mother is very upset that you haven’t gone to rehab like you promised, Bobby. And when Mama McLin is upset, she likes to blast Barry Manilow. Did you know that, Bobby? And since I live right below her, all I can hear is fucking. Barry. Manilow. So just shut the hell up before I take you into that building there and shove your head into the john ‘til you work out that damn crank.”
And the Lieutenant thought that he needed to go to those ‘empathy seminars.’ Ha. He knew exactly how to deal with an unruly kid; no problem. Call him unsurprised when little Bobby suddenly went limp against him and walked quite calmly toward the squad car waiting at the end of the street.
Oh, thank you Jesus. Deposit one McLin, save himself from listening to ‘Bandstand Boogie’ one more freaking time, and maybe have a semi-relaxing night without some kind of earth shattering crisis. Giving the kid a shove toward the uniform glaring at him from the curb- that’ll teach Nick from thinking he could beat him at Hold ‘Em when a favor’s at stake- he smiled wolfishly and waved as the car sped off.
So…great. Now the hell what? He was in boozer/hooker/drug dealer central, thanks to the young addict, and his car was parked five blocks over. Patting the side pocket of his jeans, he was slightly reassured by the familiar weight of his off duty piece, hidden by a worn black tshirt and a leather jacket.
Sliding a hand through his shaggy hair, he turned around to stroll calmly down the sidewalk. Night off or no, when a guy gets to stare at dead people for a living, there just wasn’t any such thing as a ‘vacation.’ So, when he chanced to pass the familiar walls of the Poison Apple- definitely not doing anything for his ever present headache- and locked eyes on a very pretty derriere dressed in next to nothing, it was just so natural for him to change course and head on inside.
It wasn’t like Hunter O’Neil ever really let his mind stop whirling. He was too damn scared that if it did that, it’d never start up again.
Plopping down onto the nearest booth facing the door, the detective glared at the bartender until the man snapped to and gave him his usual bottle. His mouth practically watered for a taste of the strong liquor, and it was a sigh of ecstacy that escaped his lips when he took a chug. Ah, there it was; that beautiful buzz that he'd been missing all night. Finally feeling himself relax, he glanced around the room and raised a brow when he noticed the blond girl sitting next to him.
"You're one of the regulars, right?" He asked her, before common sense could stop him.
tagging Ginna!
words enough ;3
lyrics nowhere man by THE BEATLES
notes any notes you may have
credits this was made by PARTY POISON
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Post by Ginna Lovett on Mar 6, 2011 0:01:43 GMT -5
Ginna could feel that the alcohol was going swiftly through her system. She was already on her fifth shot, and she'd barely just walked in the door. A tiny hiccup escaped from her mouth. She only felt a slight buzz at this point. She could hold her liquor pretty well. She ordered up a couple more shots, gaining a look a disapproval from the bartender. She gave him a warning look, letting him know that she didn't care what he thought about her drinking habits.
She quickly downed a shot, enjoying the burning sensation that went down her throat as she swallowed. She smiled brightly. If there was one thing she enjoyed about a night to herself, it was coming to the Poison Apple and getting drunk out of her mind. Some of her best nights had happened due to drunkness. Well, from what she could remember anyway. She took another once over of the room. There was the guy in the corner who was here every other night. He only drank and slept. He even covered his head with a newspaper. How charming.
She laughed silently to herself. At least she wasn't a bum drunk, like that guy. At least she had a decent paying job and a flat. She wouldn't survive as a bum. The only qualities she had were thieving and drinking herself into a stupor. Bums we're already skilled in those areas. So she didn't need to put herself into that same situation. Or, she didn't want to put herself into that kind of situation. Before she knew it, she'd already finished her other shots. She merely looked up at the bartender, and he served her up some more. "Give me some of the hard stuff next time, got it?" She said, calling after him as he went to help out another customer.
She was drinking another shot as she saw from a side glance that someone had sat down beside her. A voice rang through the fog of her buzzed delirium. "Yeah. I am one of the regulars here." She said, feeling only half there. But through her slightly fuzzy vision, she could see the face of someone who looked ever so slightly familiar. She smirked. "I'm pretty sure this isn't the first time I've seen you around here too, buddy." She smiled at him, another hiccup escaping her mouth. Ginna held out her hand for him, introducing herself. "My name is Ginna, and I come here as often as a grandmother buys a hideous sweater. Nice to meet you."
She turned back to her shot glass, just so she could get some more booze. She was glad to have picked up at least one conversation for the evening. Not that she was sure how long it would last. But she'd at least savour the conversation. "And seeing as how I know your face, but I don't really know your name, hows about you let me in on the mystery." She winked at him, picking up her shot, and waiting for his reply.
* * * words;; A LOT.
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