back there - i can feel the faces of the wolves.

Open Starter | @charmingstarter​ Location | Open 

Tristan was pissed. Not drunk pissed, no he would have quite happily taken that, but he was angry. He didn’t even know how it had happened, he had been at the cafe, and he’d had his phone, his wallet and his keys, and now he had none. He hadn’t noticed of course until he had nipped home to change after his run for the morning, but now he was stuck smelling ever so slightly of sweat, with his usually fluffy hair a matted mess and for someone that had such composure normally, he felt rather more rattled than he would have normally like. With a loud groan the male ran his hands down his face before he straightened himself up, moving to stop the next person passing him. “Excuse me, do you have a phone I could use? Or do you know if we have a lock smith around here?” He asked, he could find people that could break his door down, hell he could do it but he’d rather not. “I’ve lost…literally everything and if I could just call someone you’d literally be saving my morning because I’m going to lose it.” The male laughed though there was really no humor to his words, he just wanted at least his phone back, he could make plans if he had that - oh and he needed that damn shower. 

though the initial, knee-jerk reaction would’ve been something along the lines of ‘for fuck’s sake, it’s clear i don’t want any sort of company, can’t you just leave me alone?’, the aura of aggression surrounding her thoughts seemed to subside the second he began talking — or rather, ranting. she remembered him from the night after founders’ day, held a sort of sympathy for him and the lighter he’d offered — she liked him. but jesus christ, he really was a talker. freddie listened attentively, vague annoyance soon making way for a vaguely shocked sort of amusement. “— do you always talk this much, or is this a heatstroke you’re havin’?”, freddie mused, chuckling lightly, she meant no harm: he was genuinely a funny guy, whether he’d intended to be or not, and it seemed he made it easy to just flow into a friendly sort of banter. “i could use a ride”, she admitted, emphasis on could. “but are you sure i’m not gonna have to be the one to drive you to a hospital?” 

pursing his lips, daniel wondered if he’d again lost the upper hand in the conversation. for a man so prone to social awkwardness, the world would think he would be used to it. he was not. instead he tended to be prone to playful annoyance. “you know, i could totally just keep driving.” he told her, an obvious bluff. he could joke all he wanted, but he wasn’t actually a dick. “but no, i don’t have heatstroke. although, i’m honestly surprised i don’t.” his father hadn’t paid the utilities in his childhood home for the month, it seemed, and there was no a/c in the place when he brought him home. just another expense for a man who couldn’t be bothered to mail a hundred bucks to keep the lights on. “nah, but we can stop by a coffee kiosk on the way to ... wherever you’re going if you want. do you you need to go to charming auto, or are you just wanting to go home and deal with all this shit tomorrow?”

location : corner cafe. / with : @animaliums​

the corner cafe has seen a lot of barbie since it first opened. there’s only so many places to eat in town, but she enjoys a croissant and a cup of coffee every morning before work, and the baristas at the cafe know how to make it exactly the way she likes it. for barbie, it might even be her closest thing to an actual friendship, since they know her by name and that’s pretty much it. no, barbie’s lacking a lot of things in her life, and genuine connections are at the top of the list. in fact, the one person she thought maybe could be her person (as all those romantic comedies and pinterest boards like to put it) ended up being one of her greatest enemies. enemies? that’s too strong a word, and barbie doesn’t hold much hate for anyone, but the intense dislike she has for daniel choi definitely measures up to it. if she has a black book, it only contains his name. over and over again, with devil horns poking out of the a.

truthfully, barbie doesn’t really remember why she’s so mad at him. she rarely gets drunk, so the bit of alcohol that coursed through her veins during the foundation days disco was enough to knock her on her ass. all she remembers is that dannie said the worst thing anyone’s ever said to her and that he is now the worst person in all of charming, club and gang members included! of course, whenever she’s really mad at someone, they tend to haunt her like a poltergeist. her morning routine is disrupted by daniel and his stupid mustache, waiting for his coffee just like she is. she can see him out of the corner of her eye, though she’s definitely not looking, and feels a bit of sick satisfaction at his obvious irritation with the garrulous fellow next to him. you could even say that she’s smirking. maybe even laughing a little, too.

daniel had never been a cafe kinda guy. he wasn’t the sort of person that could spend hours drinking coffee and chatting with other regulars, reading books, or playing cribbage. it had been with barbie that he’d really grown to appreciate the place beyond its ability to supply him with an americano to go. unwilling to risk being caught in line next to barbie so soon after their ... altercation over foundation weekend, daniel has been laying low and it’s been a week since he’s set foot in the place that he considers is her territory. except that it’s not entirely fair and, after putting his father to bed in what is quickly becoming his dilapidated childhood home, he was resolved in his determination that he deserved a decent cup of coffee and one of those little cherry danishes and he liked to get while barbie ate her croissant. maybe it’s early enough that barbie won’t be there.

except that she is there. he didn’t see her when he came in, but he wouldn’t have left even if he had because it’s the principle of the thing. the corner cafe might be her territory, but she doesn’t fucking own it. especially today, when he’s been up all night patching up gang members and wrangling his idiot father. he didn’t see her until he’d ordered and was waiting for his order next to her and some guy intent on talking to him about how much he loves tame impala. as if loving generic alternative pop music was some sort of revolutionary opinion. he might as well say his favorite tv show is the office. waiting for his name to be called and gritting his teeth, he catches a sardonic amusement on barbie’s face and it makes him absolutely livid. shitty night, shitty morning. even when all he wants is a fucking americano and a cherry danish. “yeah, well, barbie here--” he decides, smiling venomously at a girl he occasionally still wishes he was dating, but mostly just wanted to be friends with. “--she is such a fan of tame impala and, uh, you know--” whatever other shitty bands you like. “i’m sure she’d love to join the conversation.” pulling out his phone, he sends her a text: if i suffer, you suffer with me.

florence’s laughter chimed in with his own. “well, i sure hope so!” her smile began to fall slightly and her teeth dig in to her bottom lip. sometimes she had a problem with letting her mouth run which triggered a flood of overthinking. did she sound too rude? did he understand where she was coming from? that it was all a joke? it was a vicious cycle that felt lifelong. nodding along, she grabs a pen and paper to start jotting down some notes. her tongue poked out in the corner of her mouth in pure concentration. “funny! my check engine light is on too!” flo agrees, all too excitedly. for being a receptionist at an auto body shop, she sure was a bad car owner. she had a tendency to ride her car ‘til the wheels were falling off—- literally. her nose scrunches up at the description and looks up at him over the post-it note she was writing on. “a smell?” flo questions. “well, i mean, that sounds ‘bout right. is persistent?” cue a pause to write some more notes in chicken scratch-like handwriting. “honey i don’t either, but not to worry ‘cause the mechanics will figure it all out for us!” she offers him a friendly smile and places the post-it note on the board. it seemed to blend in with the twenty other notes on her board. pushing her glasses above her head she turns to look at the other and extends a hand. “i’m florence, by the way. i’m just the receptionist here.”

Pity. 

It’s a sentiment Estella held onto when it came to Daniel Choi. Talk about getting the short end of the stick in life. To be stuck in a predicament which he had no control over. After all, you don’t get to choose who you were born out of? Look at her for instance. Her biological mother admitted to her being a mistake, but didn’t have the heart to disregard the pregnancy. From there she was adopted into privilege. Luck or fate? It didn’t matter, this was her life now. For Daniel, the way she sees it—he was simply unlucky and has to deal with it. 

Observing his demeanour, it was evident that her presence wasn’t wanted and she didn’t need an obvious hint to it since she meant no fun and games. Turning to his receptionist, Este smiled, “Thank you Leah.” And with that she tugged on Rex’s leash and followed the vet into exam room seven. Once they were alone and had their privacy, she lets go of her dog’s leash to allow him to roam freely and find a spot where he’d want to rest. From there, she began pacing, admiring the room itself and finally breaking the silence, “So, how’s your day?” She wasn’t much for small talk, but in this case it seemed to be necessary especially when she was here to be the bearer of bad news. 

it’s hard for daniel to not act like, in the words of his most recent ex--an infernal dickhead--when tense. actually, when it came to work--he was regarded as a pretty good boss. he didn’t care if leah dicked around on her lularoe facebook on the clock as long as shit got done and she didn’t try to pitch her weird multi-level marketing scheme to him or any of her coworkers. his vet techs said he was really great with pets and their owners and they actually fucking liked him. yeah, okay, so there were occasions when he had to emergently close early, but he still paid them for the whole day. he didn’t point fingers when the ketamine went missing either, but that was usually because he’d used it on some stupid gang member screaming about a bullet wound or whatever other crazy shit they came in for.

so he was a little terse when the devils came to collect or the wolves were howling at his door. that was understandable, he figured, and besides it was really the only agency afforded to him in their arrangements. if they got to keep the veterinarian ( who’d never done anything illegal short of smoking weed, tripping on cubensis every so often, or forgetting to pay a parking ticket here or there ) on a short leash just because his father shit in their yard--then he got to have a little bit of attitude where it was warranted. even to people like estella who were, by all rights, entitled to a little more respect than the average human being simply by the virtue of being beautiful and rich.

where: the outskirts of town, on the side of the road. when: 7 pm, but the sun’s still burning hot. with: open / @charmingstarter​

it’s been a bad day — the kind that sets heavily against her skin like desert sand, the kind that turns her usually spirited, summer-like façade into a display of uncontrolled nervousness. her car lies moaning on the side of the road — angry smoke rising like spirits from beneath the hood, the last few prayers of dolly carton desperately begging to be put out of its misery. god, they’ve told her t get rid of that stupid wreck so many times she barely ever hears them anymore — she’d rather keep it as a last-minute shelter, leave it somewhere in the sand as a hiding place for when things get too heavy. but she doesn’t wanna give it up: it’ll seem like she, too, is a wreck, and that’s a truth she ain’t ready to face yet. so she won’t call someone, won’t get the car towed. her nerves make her skin itchy, the eyes stinging to let out silly, childlike tears she won’t surrender to. instead she’ll smoke, one cigarette after the other, while leaning against the side of her steaming car and pretending everything’s fine — everything’s fucking fine. a car pulls over and she doesn’t move: keeps staring into nothing like the horizon itself is daring her to give up to this clusterfuck of a day. “i’m fine”, freddie says, like that could somehow conjure a universal truth. “the car’s fine too”.

LOCATION: DANIEL’S VET CLINIC

TIME: MID-AFTERNOON

STATUS: CLOSED FOR ( @animaliums​​ )

A loud bark could be heard once Estella exited her parked vehicle. A leash was wrapped around her right hand and wrist as she held onto it tightly when crossing the street towards the direction of Daniel Choi’s Vet Clinic. Rex, her black rescued pitbull-terrier, really made it known that they arrived in the vicinity as he was barking and growling non-stop. In truth, he was simply overprotective of his owner and since they weren’t at home or in known territory, it was new waters for him. She found it adorable, despite the intimidating nature and truthfully, she didn’t mind using him as ammo since it helped with a few interrogations when she was playing the role of a civilian with her dog. Their entrance did cause a commotion though, which had Daniel show himself in the flesh and that was really all Estella needed. “Rex, heel.” And on cue, the mutt ended up by her side and there, Este held a hand up for him to stay. “Good Afternoon Mr. Choi.” The Treasurer greeted with a cunning smile as she got straight to business. “My apologies for the sudden visit. I was hoping you had some time to discuss my request that I had for Rex.” Another thing she loved about Rex, he was the perfect cover up for instances like this.

the cacophony of animal sounds that filled the tiled halls of daniel’s clinic, bouncing off the minimally decorated white walls, was as homey to him as his mothers soft humming in the kitchen of his childhood home had once been. just like his childhood home, the comfort and solace he found in that place had been ruined by his father’s childish antics. his mother had moved back to korea under the thinly veiled excuse that she was helping out her parents, though daniel knew it was really to avoid her husband’s debt and infidelity. though he missed her, there was no way he could blame her short of the pang of jealousy that came with being left behind. now his father’s debts had caught up to his only son and daniel found himself paying in trade rather than cash. 

location: charming auto / @charmingstarter​

“well, ma’am, whenever your car IS ready i will call you when it is but it is not. so unless you like driving with only three wheels, then your car ISN’T ready.” holding the phone up with her shoulder, she types away at the ancient computer. her hand moves to slap the side of it to get it to work. she looked like a mad woman. a pencil is shoved in to her hair to keep her brown locks back, bent over her disheveled and the phone is continuing to ring on the other line. her cramped office was chaotic. it looked like a tornado had torn through. the sound of the shop door’s bell rings and she waves a hand over her shoulder to acknowledge their presence. “okay fine! whatever! have a good day, ma’am!” slamming the phone to the receiver, she groans and turns back around. “sorry ‘bout that. some people just don’t know what manners are anymore,” flo leans against the desk. “can i help you, honey?”

she prides herself on being a good observer — it’s an unspoken requirement for a job like this, but also a talent developed in years of caring much more for what happened to the people around her than herself. either way she likes it: gauging people’s behavior, wondering what lies behind each decision, how it weighs on the final composition of their character. besides — anyone who rescues her cigarette break is a good samaritan, in her eyes. an amused curve of her eyebrows as he hands her the lighter and she notices the design — “classy!”, the word stretched for dramatic flair. cupping the end of the cigarette, she throws a glance his way and wonders if she’s seen him around the bar before, and if she has — does she ignore his name ‘cause he didn’t say or sheer rudeness on her part? a flickering of lights announces her cigarette is finally burning, and freddie takes a long drag, exhaling a puff of smoke as she hands back the lighter to its owner. “thank you”, followed by a smile. the cigarette hanging between her fingers, arms resting against her knees, she tilts her head upwards to better look at him and listen, as if she needed an accurate analysis to answer his question. she takes another drag. “truth be told?”, eyebrows curved to show no ill intention: apologetic, even, and announcing an opinion she’d have no right to, were she not so comfortable in the role of wise confidante to half the town. his discomfort is palpable: she struggles to put an actual name on it (is it exhaustion? is it depression? is it the chaos that inevitably grips every inhabitant of charming by the throat until they choke?). freddie shrugs, nodding in the direction of main street.  “you look like you could use some partying, man. and a drink — or a few. no offense”.

daniel smirked at the appreciation of his lighter. the sought out lighters like this. if he had to carry them anyway, he preferred the absurd to the cursed white lighter. though, of course, like most teenage boys--that had been his first go to for many years out of nothing more than adolescent contrarianism. “yeah, no problem.” he offered, taking the lighter back and tucking it safely back into his pocket. “smoker’s code, right? never know when you’re gonna need to bum a light or smoke.” since he’d opened his practice, that time only really occurred when he was being careless. the fact that he’d had a career at all had little and less to do with his own ambition or some sort of erroneous assumption that he’d been some sort of academic maverick and had much more to do with the fact that he didn’t want to become his father. he’d always been an average student--tragically average in most things, he was sure of it--but in veterinary school he had a much deeper drive. now that he had reached his goal? he was happy to work and loved the job, but had fuck all in terms of plans for his life moving forward. 

“no, dude, I swear to god--a cat just slipped under the gate.” daniel pointed to where he’d seen the cat slip underneath, mostly undetected. the carousel operator shook his head in annoyance and signified that if he wanted to get into the ride area, he was going to have to get in line and wait like everyone else and that he would have to put out that fucking cigarette too. biting his lip, daniel pinched the cherry off the half-smoked cigarette and stomped it out with his beat up sneaker--hardly suppressing a churlish smile. with a resigned sigh, he scanned the line and saw a familiar face about two people from the front. he didn’t know her well, but he was pretty sure he’d seen her at the hospital on the semi-frequent occasions he had to pick up his dad after a particularly bad bender or after getting roughed up a bit by someone he owed money to.