The Free Spirit

Anyone finding him amusing is an ego boost, even if it isn’t meant that way. Edward doesn’t think he’s particularly funny; his voice is so flat it can be difficult to tell when he's joking. The strained, trying-not-to-laugh tone from Ace only encourages him; it makes him want to be increasingly ridiculous just to see him break. “Confusion. Heartache. The crushing agony of rejection.” A solemn nod, gaze drifting over as another person gets launched by the mechanical bull, sparing a tiny wince, and then straight back to his nonsense with Ace. “Surely you'd feel guilty? Sending me away, only for me to perish shortly afterwards? Also, I’m pretty sure being deprived of the opportunity to bother you at work would make my life meaningless. I’d willingly throw myself into a ditch if I couldn’t pester you.”

You think I would do that to a mafia boss? He cannot begin to explain the things people will do to a mafia boss, the alarming commitment some individuals have to fucking around and finding out regardless of who he is. He’s killed people for less - hell, he’s killed people for having bad manners. Luckily, Ace is too funny to be truly irritating. It’s only dull people he can't abide. “You're not an idiot,” he offers thoughtfully. “And yet all available evidence continues to support that conclusion.” His attention slips back to the mechanical bull, still considering it, trying to decide if it would be more humiliating to get on the thing or back out entirely.

His reputation is already in tatters. Wedding fiasco notwithstanding, tonight has been one long exercise in public embarrassment, one needless indignity after another. Compared to spitting on the Vitelli don, the mechanical bull almost feels dignified. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. “You're a man of your word, but I'm a gentleman. So naturally, I must insist you go first. It would be terribly impolite otherwise.”

Yup, he went from wishing Edward Weiss would leave him alone to selling himself to Edward Weiss on how important he is to his line of work. However, it is a good idea to tell the man how important he is. If Ace is important, then his chances of being alive goes up.

God damn it. How the hell is he gonna shake this guy off now?

"Mr. Weiss," he starts off in a sickly sweet tone because he's still trying to stop himself from thinking about Edward pouting and not laughing at his face. "Since I like you so much that I don't want you tripping into a ditch out of confusion—fine. You can stand behind me when I do autopsies and point at the body like a child asking 'What's that? What's this? How did that happen?'"

It's so easy to start joking around with Edward that he actually is a bit annoyed. If he's not digging his grave, then he's getting chummy with him. "Are you happy? Does that make your inner child jump in joy? Does it finally make your heart go 'Oh, Ace is such an amazing person that I'm so happy he was born! He's someone who can answer all of my morbid curiosities!"

Ace has a split second to think that their conversation is way too inappropriate to have in public. Here he is telling a mafia boss to be happy about Ace because he's giving him all important information about murders that the police are looking into.

When Edward had mentioned that he was being a gentleman for letting Ace goes first, his mouth moved faster than his brain once again, "Do I look like a fucking chick to you?" if his mother ever heard him, she'll kick him out of the house for a couple of hours for disrespect, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was wearing a fucking dress-" he stops his next words because he once again remembered that Edward Weiss is a mafia boss. He clears his throat then made an apology to all the women in the world in the back of his head. "You're a gentleman, but as someone who cares deeply, I insist that you go first."

diego grins as ace pulls him close. when they pull away, he claps ace on the back with a grin and holds out his fist for a fist bump. “dude! fun is my middle name!” a beat passes. he looks at the other and lets out a laugh. “it’s not danger, it’s josé.” he notices ace looking at him. did he do something wrong? or was he trying to figure out exactly who diego was? he could see the wheels turning in his brain. this was his favorite part about being semi-famous, people knowing who he was and trying to figure out just what they’d seen him in. i mean, he did have twenty three years of work under his belt.  “it’s your bet, you go first.” truthfully, he was trying to spare himself some humiliation by losing outright. plus, maybe he could get some tips on how to stay up longer than three seconds… which was his current bet for how long he’d stay up there. ace, however? he had no clue, but diego would be his biggest cheerleader no matter what. 

Ace laughs when the other reveals his middle name, "Got your middle name, what about your first and last?" He's wondering if this man was on purposely not telling the name he goes by. It makes him curious, solidifies his guess that this guy is rather famous.

Ace is the next one in line and the person before him lasts barely two seconds before flying off the bull. He looks at the stranger with a grin, "You gonna give me your name along with the twenty once I beat your ass?"

Oh, great — naturally, when Ivy was covered up to her fucking elbows in mud was precisely when her brother's bandmate was apt to approach. "Do I look like I want to get on a fucking bull right now after I've been wrestling giant hogs for an hour, Ace? You can fuck off and get me a blondie bar, but fucking liminal space will freeze over before I get my ass involved in any other rodeo shit right now."

Besides, they probably shouldn't start betting when they had an aptitude for frivolous addictions, as it were. Ivy was trying to better that about themselves, you know, keep to the straight and narrow, and cultivate that mundane life that had them mulling more and more over the pros of moving in with their girlfriend. The cat would really be out of the bag to everyone who knew them, then. But... that wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Ugh. They should be past all that bullshit of worrying about how they were perceived. Worrying about how they were themselves. Learning to accept themselves was easier said than done, and mindless for anyone else. Why did they have to be their own worst critic all the time?

He laughs in amusement at her response as he sits down on the chair next to her, "Whaaat? You're pussying out just because you were wrestling with a sweet little hog?"

The hog was definitely was not little nor was it sweet. Ace himself would not be caught dead wrestling that hog, he would rather be riding bulls.

Ace hums as he jokingly rubs his chin as though he was in thought, "An eating contest, huh?" he words out slowly, just to annoy Ivy even more, "Does it have to be just brownies? Why don't we eat all sorts of them snacks and see who can eat the most out of all of them without throwing up?" he suggests with a smile, wondering if she'll take the bait. Ace was not one to back out of a challenge even when he knows he's gonna eventually lose.

Which, by the way, you're not even allowed be inside the room when I'm working. Edward pulls a face - a petulant little scowl that he'd be awfully pleased to know makes him appear younger, just not in a complimentary way, considering how spectacularly immature it is. The notion that he can't enter any room he pleases has genuinely never occurred to him before, and it would be comical if he weren't so sincerely baffled by it. Doors open, or he kicks them down. It's really quite simple. "But you love having me there. I can tell. What would you even do without me?" Work in peace, presumably. Throw a party. "I'm obviously a joy to be around. Also, my wife would hate you. She's trying to get me out of the house to stop me pissing her off, and you're trying to send me back to stop me pissing you off. I'd get so dizzy I'd probably fall into a ditch somewhere - and, again, you're the one who'd get stuck with the autopsy."

The disturbed expression on Ace's face is funnier than it has any right to be, and it's remarkably difficult not to laugh. "That's so hurtful, Ace." Mock wounded, he presses a hand to his chest. "I mean, I'd never say you'd be missed. I'd say good fucking riddance. And I doubt I'd attend your funeral. I'd be too busy celebrating my first headache-free day in years." A beat. "Also," and he genuinely can't believe how fucking cheeky he's about to be, "if I go first, how do I know you're not tricking me? That you won't just rescind the deal after I've made myself look like an idiot?" Another beat. "'Cause that would be a really mean-spirited, sneaky thing to do."

It was too late for him to realize that he should not be giving out such information to Edward because that is the kind of information people like him can use for like torture or blackmail... or whatever devious and nefarious kinds of ideas that goes on in the head of a mafia boss.

He was about to get scared for a split second when he saw (honest to god), saw Edward almost pouting. Was that right? Was a mafia boss pouting?

Ace tried to keep a calm face, tried to even hold his breathe in hopes of not reacting. He knows he's failing though when he can hear little huffs of a laugh that he was so desperately trying to hold back.

"Yeah, you'd probably fall in a ditch from confusion," he replies back in a tight voice and it's so obvious that he's trying very hard not to laugh. Ace clears his throat, looks away from Edward because he keeps seeing that pout-scowl and it's too hilarious not to react to.

Ace takes in a deep breath, finally getting himself under control... he's still not going to look at Edward though, he's afraid of laughing at his face.

However, when Edward had told him about how Ace could rescind the deal after Edward had embarrassed himself, the blond could not help but arch his brow at Edward, "Really? You think I would do that to a mafia boss? Mr. Weiss, I'm not an idiot." he says even when he had been bad mouthing Edward literally the entire time they had been together. "And like I said, I'm a man of my word. So, you go first."

To be quite honest, Poppy wasn't sure why she'd ventured out of her home to begin with. This whole cowboy thing seemed terribly tacky and she hadn't bothered getting dressed up because doing that sort of shit was a waste of time in her opinion. Was she judgmental? Absolutely. Did she think she was always correct? She knew she was. And was this a good combination for socialization? Fuck no. So when the stranger tried to start a betting war in order to entice her to ride the mechanical bull, she couldn't help but make a face of disgust.

At first, she tried her best to be polite to him. After all, he didn't know her and he was just trying to have fun (she assumed). "Uh... No thanks, it's not really my thing. I'm sure you'll be great, though." Ugh. This was exhausting and she'd basically convinced herself to finish her drink and then go back home. Except he couldn't seem to drop the subject. "No, really, I'm good--thanks, though."

When the woman, maybe a new comer? Or a local as well that he had never met before? Had cursed at his way, Ace pretty much winced at her words.

Sure, she was one of the people he had tried to offer the game to, but she definitely did not need to reply as such.

"Sheesh, you weren't the only person I was talking to," Ace replied back to her, the look on his face pretty much disturbed by how badly she had reacted to his challenge, "Well, sorry for pushing your buttons," he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, turning to the other person who was interested in his challenge, "You guys still game for the bet?" he asked the people beside him, but they too seemed to lose enthusiasm thanks to the strangers small outburst.

God, it's tempting to take the bait. If his ego had been battling self-preservation before, his incurable nosiness has now entered the ring. He wants the information. When doesn't he want information? He's a complete gannet for gossip, particularly when it's absolutely none of his bloody business. He's aware he could always just pester (The Dirty Harry), but where's the satisfaction in that? It wouldn't feel like a victory if the answers are handed to him. "It's amusing that you think you're in a position to bargain with me, Ace. If I wanted to know, I'd know already." It’s punctuated by a dismissive wave of his hand - and then, because apparently he has the fucking self-control of a teaspoon: "When you say any body, do you really mean any body? I might reconsider."

A devious thought occurs to him: agree to the bet, insist Ace goes first, allow him to thoroughly humiliate himself, then immediately rescind the deal. True, it would cost him the gossip. On the other hand, if the mechanical bull throws Ace hard enough - and God, he's hoping it does - a well-timed head injury might make the information considerably easier to acquire. Silver linings.

"You know what? Fine. You're on. But you're going first."

He bites back yet again. Ace isn't catholic, heck, he's not even religious but he feels like he should clasp his hands and mumble out a few hail Mary's. The reply isn't as harsh as the one he said earlier, but he can't help it when Edward just keeps on giving him ammo. He should probably make a little note and put it in his wallet, something saying 'It was Edward Weiss.'. He could write it down on a piece of napkin and people would understand. Heck, the guys at the department would understand and laugh. He wonders for a moment which of them again had bet that he'll be murdered around this timeframe.

However, the look that Edward had given him, that quick spark of interest in his eyes made Ace feel calmer.

'Oh, got him hook, line, and sinker.' he thought to himself as Edward asked about the bet.

"When I say any body, I mean any body. You know me, I'm a man of my word." he says as he crosses his arms against his chest, "Look, if you wanted to know that kind of info, you wouldn't have to be breathing down my neck every time I do an autopsy. Which by the way, you're not even allowed be inside the room when I'm working."

When the other had told him that he's going first, Ace looks just about disturbed, "Me first? So what? You can tell someone to hard wire the bull so that I'd be sent flying off and you get to attend my funeral saying that I'll be missed? Ha! Fat chance. You go first."

"JESUS FUCK, ACE." Did it count in using such a name in vain when it was a religious figure she didn't believe in? Not that such would stop her anyway. "This place is so fuckin' loud I didn't even notice you comin' over here. And here I thought Doll House was gettin' rowdy." It was potentially the exact bull in question that had a fair amount of people riled up and causing the high volume, cheering when happening when someone stayed on for an impressive amount of time and flew off, it felt like. Despite earlier mentioned interest, she hadn't actually gotten a chance to see someone be flung about on it as she had been in search of lemon bars, no avail up until that moment. "I'm soo close to taking that bet 'cause I got my fair share of experience in ridin' something wild even if I've never mounted one of those things-" Trust Stella to come up with some kind of crude comment regardless of the topic not calling for it. "But I'm not really interested in hangin' 'round this place long." Technically, her ban probably had never gotten rescinded, her picture probably posted up somewhere to be kicked out were she seen in the the establishment, after a long list of pulling knives on customers of the lounge years ago. "'Specially 'cause my dates waiting for me outside. I'm on the hunt for one of those famous lemon bars that are supposed to be in here. You seen where they are? Not exactly tryna walk out of here empty-handed without one." It would truly make the trek all the way over to Glitter Gulch all for null. "C'mon, you know I can't turn down a fuckin' challenge, 'specially not if you're gonna stand here and egg me on. But I really gotta get back outside before someone else tries to steal away my cowboy. And that's the only reason you're keeping that twenty bucks."

"All talk and no fun," Ace says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, "If you've ridden wilder animals, than a boring old mechanical bull would be a no brainer for you."

At the mention of a date, his interest got piqued all the more, "Is that so? Why don't you invite him over for the challenge? Not unless your date's a pussy, then I would understand. If the two of you beat me, then that's forty bucks. But like I said, I'd understand if he has his tail between his legs at the sight of that bull there." he comments off while his thumb points at the mechanical bull behind him.

"Come on, what's a mere eight to sixteen seconds of riding? It's barely even a minute!"

diego was no stranger to competition, having grown up in constant competition with his sister, even when he hadn’t wanted to be. that in turn lead to someone who couldn’t back down from a challenge, even though he should. at ace’s bet, diego s pretty sure that this stranger’ll win. he’s never ridden a mechanical bull before, and he’s only seen stunt people do it. he remembers when he was an extra in some corny western before he got his break, watching the stunt people stay on the bull for as long as it was needed for the shot. as a kid, he thought he could do it. hell, he thought he could do anything. diego looks at the stranger and raises his eyebrow, in a “you really want to do this?” it was all talk, though, he probably won’t last three seconds. he fishes around in his pocket for a twenty, and finds one crumpled up, which he sets down on the table in front of them. “twenty’s good enough for me!” he gives ace a grin. this was going to be fun. “lead the way.”

His voice as well sounded familiar.

"My man!" He grins as he puts a hand on the stranger's shoulder, then pulls him close, "I like fun guys like you!"

He wonders for a moment who he is. An actor? A voice actor maybe? Ace often has a movie or audio book playing in the surgery room when he's working. It was both to catch up with literature he wanted to indulge in or just plain background music. This man has to be popular if Ace can remember him.

He feigns ignorance for now in being curious who this man is—he'll pry it out after their bet. He's pretty sure that the look of interest is still very evident in his features. He leads the stranger to the line wherein there was only one other person waiting, "You want to go first or should I do the honors?"

That being said, it doesn’t make Ace's taunting any easier to ignore. It’s very much a battle between his ridiculous ego and self-preservation; the compulsive need to prove people wrong matched against the very real possibility he’s reached the age where stuff like this could kill him. What a depressing way to go: decades spent locked in a blood feud only to be taken down by a mechanical bull. He supposes he'd be too busy being, well, dead to be embarrassed about it, but still.

“I’d rather just give you the money. There’s not a fucking chance I’m getting on that thing. It’s so undignified. Don’t you think it’s far more entertaining watching everyone else get thrown off? Because I do.” He’s enough of a menace to enjoy it; if anything, he’d prefer it launched people further. “And I’m old - as you keep reminding me. It would probably fucking kill me at this point. And you’d be heartbroken, obviously.” A beat. “I’d make sure you got stuck doing the autopsy too. Just to compound your grief.”

Well, Ace would and he tried his luck. Bummer.

One failure won't deter him though.

Ace quirks his left eyebrow up at the mention of Edward being old, "Damn Mr. Weiss, I didn't know you were both a grandpa and a pussy."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Ace's immediate thoughts were 'Ah shit, I ran my mouth again. This is it. I swear. This is my last night on Earth. I'll probably get shot while riding that bull. Heck, he might even order someone to fix that bull so that as soon as I get on it, the motherfucker will fall on me, making me go with a splat for tonight.' that quick line of thought immediately got followed by 'I knew I should've made that I love you letter to my Mom when I thought about it. Always gotta trust your gut feelings, they're survival instincts at this point, which I do not have.'

Those quick succession of nervous thoughts were concealed by a carefully placed taunting expression. His every action taken towards the other really makes it took like Ace is just egging him on as to how long it'll take for him to finally murder him. Edward Weiss at this point is probably only keeping him alive because he's amusing enough; especially when it came to his cases—Wait, that was it.

"How thoughtful of you to think of me even after your death," Ace voiced out, trying to sound as touched as possible as he put his hand on his chest, "How about a bet on information then?" he offered with a cock of his head to the side with a grin, "You ride that bull longer than me and I'll give you info on any body I worked on for the past month."

He sounds like such a dirty cop, this is probably how he'll get into the Weiss' family's payroll. He'll forever be known as the guy who got employed because their boss beat him at riding a mechanical bull longer. He has to make sure that kind of embarrassment will never be put on him.

The first order he got was his milkshake which he took a hearty sip of, "Ah, that hits the spot." he said mostly to himself as he held the drink with both hands, enjoying the cold feel of it.

Ace closed his eyes, an expression that shows he was debating on how he should answer Iris' question without worrying her, "I think so? It's not like I haven't done this before. I'm pretty sure criminals don't take vacations from their crimes, so I have to keep up." he jokes, but even he can tell his joke was too lame that people will just be more concerned towards is work ethic.

"Hm, quiet uneventful nights can definitely a make you feel either relaxed or lonely," he agrees with a nod, "I feel like that often at home, which is why I'm always out." he gets his food and was about to chow down on it when Iri's comment made him laugh. "If I start hallucinating, the guys at the division would start laughing first, before helping me out."

He takes a big bite of his burger, then a second because it's been hours since he last ate. "Pie does sound nice," Ace agrees with her, "I'm not sure about taking my car keys though. But, the pie might help at keeping hallucinations the at bay. Hopefully. Maybe. I should order that one as well."

wylder + ??? : may 30, mid - evening @ glitter gulch lounge @boneyardstarters

However, he lost track of them when he got distracted by the mechanical bull ride. One minute they were beside him and the next they weren't. His calls were not being answered so he decided to wait for them at one of the benches as he grabbed something to eat.

His friends would eventually veer back to him, so he's not too worried about being left out. He texted them his location so he just needed to stay at this bench.

Technically, he's still on duty but he feels like he'd go insane if he stayed there for a minute longer. He's craving burger and fries with a well-earned chocolate milkshake. He's going to need all the sugar he can get, then some coffee to really keep him awake.

As he entered the diner, he didn't expect to see a familiar face. Iris' comment about him having a rough night made Ace groan, "Please do not remind me," he replies back in a weary voice, nearly dragging himself to the empty seat across, "I've been working shit hours recently."