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[16 May 2011|04:22pm] |
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Testing. Post to maintain activity level.
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| So These Two Hotties Walk into a Bar... |
[04 Mar 2010|06:52pm] |
Abandon Ship! boasted a moderate crowd on weeknights, mostly regulars whose boats docked at the marina off William Street. The low-key setting drew the professional twenty- and thirty-somethings of the island, who fled from the chaos of Duval Street and Mallory Square. Tonight, about half the house was full. Hayden came out of the small office with its oscillating fan to shoot the breeze with the staff, eat handfuls of peanuts, and watch the plasma televisions. In his untucked, blue polo shirt and jeans, he blended in with the servers.
There was a bet going on. A couple of barflies and most of his staff were in on it. After a lot of trash talk, Hayden finally agreed to put twenty bucks on the outcome of a basketball game between the Miami Heat and the L.A. Lakers. "Alright, alright." He raised his hands in defeat. "Jeez!" He pulled out a tri-fold wallet and stuffed a couple of tens in a tip jar, which had been converted for the occasion.
Kris and Jenny hadn't had a lot of time to catch up lately, what with the crazy shifts, a manic personal life and Kris being chained to Rhiannon, so when they'd finally had a chance to catch up, Kris had mentioned a certain blonde and a certain bar. Jenny being Jenny insisted that they go and see what happened.
( Oh, Hello There! )
( Toilet Seats )
( Matchbook )
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| Metaphysical |
[01 Mar 2010|09:32pm] |
Isabelle Shaw wasn't the sort of woman who was used to being ignored, in any universe. She didn't consider herself snooty (though she was reasonably sure the version of her that had been here before had been) but when she gave a guy her phone number or email, the last thing she expected was the sound of silence. Granted, Izzy hadn't been in the habit of handing out her number to men that often, but when she did she usually got a call back. So not hearing back from Hayden had been something of a shock, and she'd fully intended to call him sooner than this, but then a certain vampire had used her for a late night snack.
That memory still rankled, and the witch intended to do something about it, eventually. Hayden could help her with that, but she was interested in more than just brushing up on her voodoo. The man had been a good friend to her in the other universe, and Izzy wanted to get that friendship reestablished. The future was wide open here, after all.
So, considering herself sufficiently healed from the vampire bite that she wouldn't have to answer any awkward questions, Izzy had decided to go on the offensive. Which was why she stood on the porch of Hayden's house and knocking on his door.
( A Talk That Goes in Unexpected Directions )
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| Ball and Chain |
[09 Feb 2010|04:09pm] |
Being chained to somebody was more inconvenient than Hayden realized.
Getting out of the Jeep at the two-story house was bad enough. He tried to be a gentleman; he let Bethany exit the passenger side and climbed across the gearshift to do the same. Then there was the blonde's facial expression when she realized he was a renter... A renter who only had the bottom floor of a modest building, which he crammed with second-hand furniture. He wasn't used to spending time with snobs, but here he was, literally attached to one, and it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut.
Later, when she announced her desire for a shower, it got worse. With several feet of chain between them, Hayden had to outstretch his arm and stand in the doorway. The door of his shower stall was made of distortion-glass, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw flesh-colored woman twisting and turning. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. "How you plan to get dressed, I don't know," he said over the water. "Unless your outfit doesn't require you to stick your arm through it. Which leaves what... a tube top?" Actually, that kind-of cracked him up. The only alternative was a blouse that buttoned at the shoulders, 1980s style. He supposed she could stick her arm through, but that ate up precious links of chain, and they might end up touching.
And this is just the first hurdle. Wait 'til sleeping arrangements.
( No Personal Space )
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| Attached at the Hip |
[03 Feb 2010|08:32pm] |
After her friend's "unfortunate" disappearance, Bethany's life had improved tenfold. She'd gotten her claws on that well-deserved promotion and had been bringing in changes to the work place fast, meaning she no longer wished to carve chunks out of people or remove eyeballs from sockets. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would suffice for the time being. Bethany did have her eyes set elsewhere, but she needed collateral before she could lose the job. All in good time.
Given that she was and would always be a woman of her vices, Bethany had grown rather fond of a coffee brewed by a store not that far from where she lived. It had to be completely black with no sugar before she drank it though.
( Standing Line Line, Minding Their Own Business, When... )
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| Laundry Day |
[12 Jan 2010|02:01pm] |
All sorted, Hayden's laundry made up three loads: whites, darks, and a pile haphazardly called 'miscellaneous' because its owner had no idea what to do with it. Was a blue-and-white striped shirt a light or a dark? He sat on a vinyl couch in Old Town Laundry, jingling his pocket full of quarters and watching the three washers he took up vibrate on spin cycle. In the corner, a television flashed the bright colors of afternoon programming on a weekday. Between soap operas and game shows, he saw commercials for mops, diapers, and tampons. Clearly, not designed for the single guy market.
He slumped and stretched his legs out. When the angle became uncomfortable, he rubbed his neck. One of these days, he thought, I'll live someplace where the appliances don't catch fire. When the soap opera returned (easy to tell from the piano music and hushed voices of melodrama), Hayden sneaked looks at the screen. The men on The Young and the Restless never aged. It was weird. Take that dude Victor for example, with the not-quite-European accent. What was he supposed to be, a vampire?
Laundry - one of the most boring and tedious domestic chores that God himsef had created just for his own personal entertainment, this much Kris was convinced of.
Given that she spent more time in her uniform than out of it, the load of laundry currently bundled up into a bag was far more expansive than it had any right to be. She was pretty sure Simon had sneaked some of his into her wash. Kris wasn't in the habit of wearing men's boxers. And just for that? She was going to dye his underwear pink.
( Fancy Meeting You Here )
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| Old Roommates |
[03 Jan 2010|02:41am] |
Izzy entered Bull & Whistle after the end of a very long and trying day at the hotel. For whatever reason, it seemed most of the guests hadn't figured out what they wanted to do when they got to Key West. Izzy had been running ragged all day, setting up last minute reservations for this activity or that on top of helping those who were doing their planning in advance.
Why her alternate picked hospitality management, the witch had no idea, but she knew if she'd stayed any later, there might have been a homicide. At least now the workday was done and she could relax, and she'd changed out of her work clothes before walking over to the bar. It was crowded, but not oppressively so, and there was even a spot open at the bar, score! Izzy slid into the open seat and ordered a margarita, letting her fingers tap on the bar in time with the music from the band playing on stage.
The Bull and Whistle was a long-time fixture of the island. The first floor was dark, rustic, and open-air on two sides. The walls it did have were painted in murals of famous Key West personalities. On the second floor, the windows and balcony overlooked Old Town. On the foliage-heavy roof, clothing was optional.
( Rubbing Elbows )
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| Kryptonite |
[19 Dec 2009|04:42pm] |
Cassidy managed to find a good sandwich shop on one of her wandering trips around Key West, and it was close enough to the beach that she could watch the water while she ate her lunch. It was getting dark way too early for her taste, and it seemed like the streets rolled up a lot earlier than she was used to. Still, she was getting so she liked it in a quieter place. Maybe she really was getting a little too old for bright lights.
She had ordered a tuna melt and cheese fries, and she added a little vinegar to the fries before eating a few of them. Tomorrow was grocery run day. She was pondering getting a washer and dryer, because the nearest laundromat was scuzzy. Fortunately her money wasn't going to run out anytime soon, and she had a few investments that were still paying off. If things got tight, she could go through some of the stuff she'd gotten from past admirers. She really only needed so much stuff these days.
The sandwich was very good, and she had another bite before washing it down with some orange soda. Life might have slowed down, but it didn't have to be in a bad way. It could even turn out to be pretty good.
( Yellow Raining Down )
( Osmosis )
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| Broken Down |
[11 Dec 2009|08:51pm] |
The front yard was almost grassless, and Mallory reminded herself that Hayden lived in the bottom half of the house and not the top. She'd been by Abandon Ship! earlier only to find him not there, but the day bartender had been nice enough to direct her. She walked up the concrete path to the porch, rapped lightly on the door. Hopefully he wouldn't be too pissed about her interrupting his day off.
"At least it's for a good cause," the redhead muttered. "To me it's a good cause anyway."
Hayden sprawled on his couch under the lazy circulation of his ceiling fan. A Magnum, P.I. marathon played on the television. He got sucked in around lunchtime and two hours later he was still watching. Halfway into the first episode, he had drawn an uncomfortable parallel between Tom Selleck's shorts and his own and gotten up to change his pants, just in case they looked anywhere near that tight. Or short. Otherwise, his brain stayed on autopilot. A bag of ruffled potato chips rested on his stomach, a glass of Coke on the table behind his head. Periodically, he reached backwards and awkwardly maneuvered it to his mouth while trying not to spill.
( Taking a Walk )
( Uncomfortable Story Time )
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| 4th of July |
[05 Dec 2009|09:23pm] |
July 4, 2009
Key West, Florida
(Before the Low Tide Event)
"Hey, man! Put this on!" With a light thunk, a plastic top hat landed on Hayden's head.
He took it off and looked at it. Stars and stripes, like Uncle Sam. He dug living in America, but no way in hell was he walking around a party wearing a flag on his head. He set it on a rustic deck chair and ambled down the steps with a cup of keg beer. The owners of the beach house had a narrow strip of waterfront, which was separated from neighboring property by a jetty. On this side of the barrier, grills smoked in a sand pit and a volleyball net had been set up. A couple of local guys played island music on guitars and animal-hide drums.
Hayden knew the hosts, two real estate agents in their early thirties. Monied but down-to-earth, they showed up at his bar for drinks on Thursday nights. Since he didn't feel like spending the holiday at work, he accepted the invitation. Looking around in the golden light of the tiki torches, he recognized some of the people. Key West was a small island, so the familiar, tanned faces of its residents were easy to pick out.
Sandals were kicked off and set aside so that pale toes could wriggle into the sand. Brushing a few strands of dark hair behind her ear, Purity listened to the music and let her body sway slightly where she sat. Taking a sip from the plastic cup in her hand, the witch sniffed the air and relished the mixed scents of sea and food. She'd been day dreaming again, and was brought out of it with a light nudge to her side. "I was saying, I bet you five bucks that I can get everyone running into the water by the end of the night."
( Sand and Spilled Beer )
( Flirtation With Purity )
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| Say Argh |
[01 Dec 2009|07:53pm] |
Katherine was meeting with marginal success in Key West. The one good thing which was going for it seemed to be the nightlife, in the hedonistic vampire's view. Unless contracted for something, the brunette tended to spend her time in almost petty constant attempts to prove herself. But getting drunk and simply having fun tearing up either the local town - or just the locals in it - was ideal. Every so often, Katherine spent her time going to literal war zones, immersing herself in killing mentality where nobody would question finding corpses. More to the point, they provided her with a challenge, but then came the other times... Times when she got bored of them, like playing a particularly violent computer game for too long.
It was like that now. The island provided her with a place to simply sit back and enjoy things. With a mentality like Katherine's, though, it was not long before the impulsive need to do something won out.
Lucky Hayden. For it was into his bar the brunette had wandered, already just drunk enough to feel free-spirited and, as the hour wore on, seeming to veer between giving out an uproar of laughter in joking conversation and, somehow, taking exception to what were perceived as offensive comments or looks directed at her. The smiles of before always vanishing as she growled out a demand for an apology.
"An' if there's one thing I can - hey! That song! Leave that fucker on!"
( Drunk in Public )
( Fanged Embrace )
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| Going Easy |
[24 Nov 2009|04:15pm] |
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( Busted )
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| Quick Chat |
[23 Nov 2009|10:20pm] |
Abandon Ship!, a nautical-themed bar, opened onto a wharf at the Historic Seaport Walk. In its former life, the building was a seafood restaurant, and on the scalding hot days of summer, the kitchen still smelled of fried shrimp. Its co-proprietor, Hayden, had been a bartender in a tiki hut prior to securing a small business loan from the bank. Though he came to work in a collared shirt instead of a tee now, he considered it a fair trade, because he no longer had to wear a lei or listen to a Hawaiian guy play 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' on ukulele. The staff was small in the off-season, just three bartenders and five waitstaffers. Hayden and his partner pitched in where needed.
He liked day shifts. Slow business meant he could grab a book, duck outside, and sit on the deck furniture. Boats, gulls, and sloshing ocean water made good white noise for reading his book on pirating, which he picked up from The Next Chapter. Looking at the sticker on the back, Hayden thought about Mallory and how she hadn't come in for that drink.
Aidan had stared at the schedule in his own handwriting that hung from a garish tourist-theme magnet on the refrigerator in his bright pink kitchen for a good minute or two before it clicked in his head. He had planned to spend his time going over paint swatches for the kitchen - unable to believe that he, or rather, his alter-self, hadn't gotten around to repainting as yet - but what was clearly a work schedule had him booked for the better part of the day. It was something of a switch; Aidan had left his life when he worked a sporadic schedule and still received a steady paycheck. Having written, controlled hours would take some getting used to.
( Just a Little Advice )
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| See You Later (Not Good-Bye) |
[05 Jul 2009|11:34pm] |
Though her conversation with Connor had been frustrating in some ways, at least Faith left with the knowledge that he cared about her. It was a good feeling to have, considering she once thought she'd completely ruined whatever bond they'd formed several months prior. Knowing that also made the Slayer more determined to return after she was finished helping Giles with his current crisis. She'd taken Connor for granted in a lot of ways, and even though she wasn't really sure how, Faith wanted to make sure she never did that again. Considering their shared experiences -- not just in Chicago and Nevada, but in the past in L.A. as well -- she really owed him more than she'd given.
But that would probably have to wait a while. In two days' time, Faith would be on a plane bound for England. From there, she wasn't sure where she'd wind up. Rupert didn't give many details, though he did tell Faith she'd be dealing with a young Slayer out of Belarus who had accidentally killed a couple people. Faith had been momentarily annoyed at the reality of having to deal with something like this, but the more she thought about it, the more the Slayer felt a little privileged that Giles asked her to help.
If Faith's experience could keep someone else from going down the same road, any personal inconvenience would be worth it.
First thing was first, though; Faith needed to make sure she said her see you laters before leaving. She wouldn't call them goodbyes, because the brunette had every intention of coming back to Chicago once she'd done her bit to help. Between Connor, Avery, Rhiannon and especially Hayden, Faith had a lot of reasons to think of Chicago as home, and she wasn't going to let this diversion keep her from keeping her personal relationships and finding that balance in life.
( Housekeeping! )
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| Faster |
[17 Jun 2009|08:46pm] |
Electronic Correspondence to Inquisitors
Subject: Security Breach
Sent by: H. Maragos
Priority: One
Requesting: Immediate Preparations for Signal
A fugitive (ID: Sonya Ramius, hybrid species) was seen gathering intelligence at our headquarters. The inquisitor on watch shot and wounded the demon, but she escaped before a fatality could be confirmed. We must assume she brought word of our location and signal back to the fugitives. Beginning immediately, we will increase our numbers of inquisitors on watch at headquarters (4) and move up our timeline on construction of the beacon. We anticipate sending the signal on Friday. While not on watch, continue patrols in search of any fugitive hideouts.
-HM
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| Casualties (AU Hayden) |
[10 Jun 2009|11:51pm] |
Hayden went down on one knee and pushed his fingers into his eyes.
Kathleen Guevara. A second Inquisitor dead under his command. By now, Harrison's body would've been located and brought home. There'd be a flag over his coffin, a medal in his sister's hand, a name carved into brass.
It wasn't easy to lead. It wasn't something he sought when he joined the Royal Inquisition, but neither was combat. He was a scholar, recruited out of University as an interpreter, having mastered four of the modern languages. During his first year of service, before he met Victoria, he accompanied a squad on a mission out of England. A town had become a haven of sorts for demons; he was there translate for a member of the Inquisition, who didn't speak the native tongue. Word of their delegation's arrival spread quickly. When the raid happened, he picked up arms alongside the others and was one of nine survivors in a squad of twenty.
Afterwards, his career picked up momentum. He was a natural pick for leadership; he was intelligent, steadfast, loyal to a fault, and most importantly, he bought into the doctrine. Bit by bit, he drifted from academia, until there was little left except strategy, directives, targets and ammunition. He was intended to check his questions at the door and simply fire.
( Right, But Unjust )
( Issuing Orders )
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[07 Jun 2009|10:38pm] |
Electronic Correspondence to Inquisitors
Subject: Information and Primary Objectives
Sent by: H. Maragos
Priority: One
Requesting: Reply With Information From Reconnaissance
( Updates )
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| The One Where Victoria's Heterosexual (Inquisitors Maragos & Maragos) |
[06 Jun 2009|12:41am] |
The Inquisitors set up a base in a long, narrow warehouse near a railyard, just to the southwest of the community called Lincoln Park. A highway separated the industrial area from the renovated neighborhood where, unknown to the Inquisitors, their prey went into hiding. Since the warehouse once served as a distribution center for paint, some boxes and gallon-sized cans remained, along with a few tables and chairs, but not much else. It was lit naturally by a row of windows near the ceiling. At night, they used their equipment to illuminate the space enough to move around. Decency compelled them to separate the area into respectable quarters. They hung old canvas material from the rafters, creating makeshift compartments. Other areas contained stockpiled food and gear.
At the end of the row, Hayden ducked into a stall and let the canvas close. He sat down. A little bleary eyed, he stretched out his legs one at a time. His right knee was swollen. He could feel the brace grow tighter on his last surveillance. There would be fluid around the joint. He turned the pins in sequence and released the pressure incrementally. Sometimes, taking the damned contraption off hurt worse than walking around without it. It was also hot in the building. A drop of sweat rolled down his face. He hunched his shoulder and mopped it with his sleeve. The uniforms were ill-suited to the humidity and heat of the city. On his earlier hunt, he caught a glimpse of the inland sea and only gentility kept him stripping down and diving into it. Others did, men and women in clothes not suitable for underthings.
Pain radiated around his kneecap. Hayden left the brace alone for a moment and took off his boots.
A familiar hand was felt to slide around his back, then over opposing shoulder; the owner joining him with as much of an affectionate embrace as could be managed from one side. A kiss finding itself bestowed to his cheek, respectful, yet loving. "Let me," spoke a female voice, lowering hand to soothe where inflammation troubled the lead Inquisitor most. "I know you're not an invalid, but you know how seeing to this thing frustrates you, darling."
( Of Like Mind )
( Marital Matters )
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