BECK DAWSON.

It could be fair to argue that Beck knew a majority of the people in Wilmington. If not for his prior upbringing within the small beach town, then the last two years he’d spent rebuilding his foundation in the very soil he’d fled from years ago. But there were few that he could say he’d carried with him across the state lines he’d felt suffocated within. Penelope Bradley had been one of them. Unbeknownst to the pair their history went as far back as New York, with Penelope having grown up in the concrete jungle, and Beck having resided there for 10 years prior to returning to Wilmington––their paths had certainly crossed on more than one occasion. But it had been the night the two had shared during Beck’s first year back in North Carolina that had really sealed their bond. Since then Beck couldn’t remember a time he wasn’t glad to have run into the likes of the Bradley girl. Not simply for their history, but for the friendship they’d managed to keep since then. Seeing her now, barefoot and bubbling, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at how little things had changed. “Well, I’d rather of pulled up to see you doing the Fandango then walking around like one of the Flintstones.” The humor in his voice was evident, and he quickly leaned closer to his passenger window. “Uh huh––and uh...where exactly were you headed then Pen?”

Unusual Circumstances. It had become somewhat of a habit for reunion between the pair, an unplanned tradition that had started long before Beck’s truck had slowed down beside her. What with his frequent impulsiveness and the fact that he occasionally took a step in his own underground ring –– it had only been a matter of time before he’d been in need of medical assistance. Jordan, had come into his life just after a bit too many blows to the head. He’d stumbled out of his bar, eye swollen shut and mouth dripping blood, only to collide into the brunette –– who ironically happened to work in the medical field. Ever since then, unusual circumstances is what had continued to bring them together. Whether that be for yet another stitch, or the late night curiosity of two souls not ready to retreat home just yet. “Hi––” Beck managed to get out amidst a light chuckle, noting quickly that she’d probably been a bit deep in the bottle by the time he’d rolled up. “I am quite proud, you deserved a night out. After all, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s kept your appointments busy.” Smiling he pondered her question, remembering for the first time that he’d had a different place in mind prior to stopping alongside the road. “I was headed home,...a walk sounds far more entertaining.” He’d had yet to decide if he was simply being sarcastic or felt that to be true, but as time was passing apart of him sensed it was the latter of the two.

Growing up in Wilmington had taught him a lot of things, one of which being his charm. It had come with living in a Southern town, however far North their small beach town thrived. Even after hours of entertaining both strangers and loyal customers, he couldn’t help but stop before the woman. Not only for his plain curiosity as to what means she too walked the streets, but for the simple fact that apart of him just had to make sure she was alright. After all, it was cold and it was dark––in the middle of October. It was safe to say it wasn’t the best of cocktails. “I presume you’ve made enough to your liking?” His smirked, an eyebrow raising just slightly higher than it had previously rested. “I don’t need to do anything to beat out the other bars in town. Yano? Beckoned isn’t for everybody and I sort of prefer it that way...sometimes...” The money was always a plus when it came to having more clientele than usual, but he couldn’t deny how on edge he could feel at times with so many people surrounding him. “Oh, please, you wouldn’t be imposin’. And there’s no way I’m gonna sleep easy tonight knowin’ I let you walk over 5 blocks home in the cold..”

It wasn’t so much of a surprise that Esme of all people had been the one he’d found to be wandering the streets he traveled at such hours. In the time he’d known her they’d shared stories of their inabilities to get home at a decent hours, for varying reasons depending on the night. Smiling at her own recognition of him, he put the car into park, lowering the level of his car radio even further as he watched the girl step closer to the passenger side. “Well that’s because I simply never see you. Who am I to assume that this is a frequent past time of yours.” A playful shrug fell upon his shoulders then, and he winced at the mention of her cell dying. He briefly thought about the phone charger laying limply in his car port before he perked up at her question. “I’m just getting off actually, it was a busy night. I held last call a little longer, since it is Halloween season...the nights are bound to get later.” Breathing in deeply as the Fall breeze passed through his car window and fought against the heat emitting from his air vents he smiled at her. “Speakin’ of, I’m not sure I like the idea of pullin’ off and leavin’ you here to walk the rest of the way...I could give you a ride if you want?”

The low hum of Beck’s engine echoed throughout the Downtown Streets, lights overhead reflecting off the slightly tinted glass he peered through. His hand gripped the wheel with a determination, one that was brought on by a late night at the bar, and his incessant need to recharge. Typically this involved grabbing a late night coffee, one found at a diner that was just prepared to close it’s doors. Other nights it was to simply grab some gas station food, take a long drive to the beach, and stay there until the sun was just about to greet the dawn. He didn’t sleep much, that was for sure. And he much preferred being the only one out at unforeseen hours, allowing himself to be one with the slick black tarmac and the quiet muffled sound of the radio. Just a man and his truck. But tonight, there was an outlier. Something Beck wasn’t too used to seeing, but one he wasn’t entirely opposed to. Recognization twinkled in his eyes, along with slight confusion as to what they too were doing out and about at this time of night. Eventually he pulled to a stop, laughter bubbling out of his chest at the slight pause the person across from him took. “And here I was thinking I was the only insomniac...are you walking?”

Beck chuckled slightly before the man who had hardly managed to raise himself let alone another living creature. “You can watch all the puppy videos you want Mase, they all grow up eventually, and the teen years are gonna be your worst nightmare. That, and the teething stage.” Of course it was a joke, one of light humor. But Beck had been raising his own canine best friend for years and he was fully aware of how unideal things could be sometimes. “One day they’re this cute little ball of fur, and the next they’re chewing on your thousand dollar laptop.” A slight shudder made it’s way up Beck’s spine at the memory, and he bore a pained smile as he shook it off.

Beck didn’t smoke. Or at least he hadn’t in years. It had been something he had sworn off since returning to Wilmington. In New York it had been so much easier, the streets practically emitted smoke from out the storm drains. But in the quiet beach town, it was rare anyone smoked anywhere other than outside of a bar or their porch step. Which is why instead, he’d grown a caffeine addiction to replace the slight itch he got whenever he passed through a smoke cloud exiting his Bar & Grille. Bespoke was one of the few at which he’d acquired a “usual” order. And in all his visits to the small coffee shop, he’d rarely seen anyone seriously taking a look at the black cruiser perched up on it’s ends just outside. Until now, that is. “I think it might be the owners’ son’s or somethin’. He comes here sometimes on Sundays. Should keep a look out for him round then.” Lowering his mug to get a good look at the man he had yet to recognized he furrowed his brow with curiosity. “You ride?”

Halloween just so happened to be one of Beck’s guiltiest of pleasures. Naturally it was the farthest thing from what he’d like to associate himself with––what with his father having been an actual monster. But he couldn’t help but have a secret spot in him that would allow his nights to be littered with horror film marathons, and ignoring the looks of the cashiers when he was one of the first people in line with a bag of candy corn. Beckoned had a history of bringing in the darker souls since it’s first opening in New York City, but it became even more prominent around the spooky season. Which is why Beck had shown up to the costume shop, admits his deepest concerns. Everyone knew that Beckoned’s Halloween Extravaganza called for 50% off drinks for any body who wore a costume. It’s the very reason he himself walked out of the dressing room in a cowboy hat perfectly fit for a Clint Eastwood Western. Sure his drinks were always on the house, being the owner––but it didn’t hurt to join in on the fun. Glancing up as the woman exiting from the dressing room across from him proposed a question, he swallowed a knot that had unknowingly shot up into his throat. Because, boy was she gorgeous. “Are you kiddin’? Most definitely. I can see Steve Harvey accidentally calling your name out for the winner now!”

It was rare that Beck was personally offended by anything that anyone might find it in themselves to say within the safe confines of a night-bar, but the comments made from that of a Greer was definitely deserving of a scoff. “Crazy? Your Steelers lost to the Kansas City Chiefs. I don’t think you’ve got much grounds for defense here, Kingston.” Scrunching his eyebrows together as he fought off the laughter forming in his throat, he turned to the crowd briefly as he re-gained their support. “Alright, fine. If you’re so confident––whoever’s team gets further in the league owes the other one dinner.” It had been a card to throw her off guard, but all the same a good enough bet to bring a smile to his face.

“That you do, Taylor.” Beck couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh, against his deepest of wills. Because of course things would have played out the way they had––here Beck was again, some way or another in a mess of a trouble, and as usual, Weston was there to clean it up. Beck wasn’t sure he was quite ready to admit he was that friend, but another part of him new he wouldn’t have to for anyone to guess. Memories fell into place over a glass of whiskey as Beck watched the bartender slosh the dark liquid over his short glass of ice. “I’m not cheap, i’m simply reasonable. It doesn’t make any sense that I should have to pay almost $500 for 4 new tires, I mean hell,––if my tires are dull or got a slow leak, eventually I could blow one and be stranded in a ditch somewhere. My safety shouldn’t cost me half a lung.” Beck was far too aware that the liquor coursing through his body probably had something to do with the slight rambling of his words, but he only shrugged it off to take another languid sip. “But if it’s DEAL, I’ll take it.” Breathing in deeply as he looked around the bar he’d found himself within, he tilted his head to the side, before a slight chuckle rose out of his chest. “I mean technically, I only come to other bars to accidentally leave a couple of Beckoned info cards on the tables and stools––if I can have a drink or two while I’m at it, that’s just a bonus––but we’ll just keep that between us for now,” Nudging Weston slightly, he smirked to himself, careful not to look at the bartender who was so obviously listening in on their conversation. 

It was hard to almost not get lost in the chaos of the crowd surrounding him. For a person like Beck who was desperate to be perceived as anything other then what his name had marked him to be, the attention from a group of people who were actually interested in what he had to say could be addicting. Beck couldn’t help his need to keep people engaged––to prove that he wasn’t just any other Dawson. He was the charming one, the one people could trust––the one who could hold up a pretty decent conversation. Because although he was naturally a shut in, both in the literal and metaphorical sense,––it was also vital to him that his external mask was always in place. Which is why he’d almost flushed in embarrassment for the fact he’d simply assumed that the very uninterested woman would have been engaged in his outer monologue. “I––am sorry, I didn’t mean to disrupt your meal...it’s not even Sunday and i’m going on about Football.” Beck offered a slight smile before turning to the bartender and giving a nod. “Her next round is on the house.”

Beck didn’t really have time for games himself these days but that didn’t mean he himself didn’t own a system. Occasionally, on one of his earlier nights getting home he would pop open a few beers and delve into the world of Grand Theft Auto or God of War. “There’s to be no shame in the game,...Besides, I’m more of a story guy myself. I don’t particularly get the games just to aimlessly shoot yano––I like a build up, cut scenes, give me the whole 9. Shit, with the graphics these days, it’s basically like watching a movie.” Beck shrugged, finding his tangent to be long but relevant. He wasn’t sure how he himself looked being a thirty-two year old man still going into long soliloquies about the video game world, but he figured as they were within the same decade that she shared the guilty pleasure. “What can I say, alcohol fumes just feed the brain,” Smirking as his joke settled on light laughter he shrugged. “Dogs are practically like having children, so maybe the Switch would be best. Although I do forewarn, it may breed another addiction.” Certainly there were some people who were truly addicted to video games, but Beck had hoped his humor had been just as well perceived as it had been playfully offered.

“Do you tend to be optimistic yourself?” He inquired, as the alcohol in his system had finally kicked in long enough for him to feel as though it was important to know things about the people he served. He dealt with many people on a daily basis, but bars aren’t always the place for optimism. Often times it’s the opposite––the guy who just lost his job, someone who wanted to lose their job, and another who was probably just struggling to find their place in the world of love. His father had always viewed people as subjects, and eventually objects. Beck much preferred to study people. It was amazing the story one could tell, by simply seeing someone across a bar. “I’m not saying I don’t trust your opinion, rather your motive,” He joked half heartedly, a smile quirking its way onto his face. “I tend to remember faces pretty well, it’s names that are still sometimes tricky. Speakin’ of, I don’t believe I caught yours...”

“Well honestly, I’m just rootin for somethin’ to keep cheerin’ for, I mean don’t get me wrong we’ve won 4 so far, but losin’ to the Falcon was a real kick in the gut.” Sighing, Beck took another long gulp of his beer, frowning down into his glass when he realized it was now gaining on empty. It wasn’t rare for Beck to see faces he knew within the bar, after all he was the owner and he’d made it a point to at least know most if not all of his clientele. But friends, were always a special face to pick out in a crowd. And friends like Andrew were no different. It was good to have someone familiar with him on one of the busier nights. At least then he had a getaway car, and good company to run off with. “Isn’t it? It’s amazing how much it pays to offer people free drinks.” Chuckling then, he set his glass down on the bar. “What brings you to the Devil’s den? Or is it just my pretty face?” A teasing grin grew on his face as he clapped a hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

Wincing at his habit of assumption, he snapped his fingers. “Ah, that’s fair. My apologies for figuring –– I guess I got lost in all the hype. Sunday’s only a few days away.” The scrunch of her nose followed by her laugh was enough to make Beck quirk out a smile of his own. Quite frankly, the woman was growing more intriguing as the time passed. “Well, it feels better sometimes to receive it from those who’s opinions you trust, but hey, I’m all for the support whichever way it lands.” Beck liked to believe at times that he didn’t care about what other’s thought of him, most certainly not his friends and definitely not complete strangers. But his upbringing hadn’t left much to be desired for improvement, and therefore there were still times that he longed for a bit more then just common courtesy. “The pleasure’s all mine...So, excuse my being the stereotypical host but –– first time here?”

It was a thing to note that Syd had never been much of a drinker. In fact Beck could recall a few memories from her visits to New York. The time Beck had decided to show Rhett around his new bar and grille, and they’d come home to find her stumbling and giggling, wearing a mix of her brother’s old clothes and what she could find of Beck’s with a bottle of merlot dangling from her finger tips. The girl could grow tipsy off of an entire bottle of red wine, and they weren’t even hitting the major leagues yet––vodka, whiskey, and tequila. Tonight she’d played it relatively safe for a good footing, rum and coke. And Beck raised his glass in slight cheers, a smirk on his face she knew quite too well. Finding it hard to contain his laughter, he set his drink down upon the bar, eyes wide with amusement at her brash statement. “No, thank you –– Christ, I think you’ve made your point quite clear. Axed.” Her vulgarity was one of the things Beck had come to appreciate over the years. She was brash, but she was exuberant. She could steal the attention in any room, and occasionally she could pretty much get just about anyone to smile on a shit day. She was genuine. Which is what he would say if anyone had asked. Not that he’d say it directly to her persay, they’d never go so far as to say they went that deep––but it was clear in his smile that he was always glad to have her around. Raising an eyebrow then as she seemed quite proud of the fact that Beck still lacked a lady on his arm, he squinted. “Seems like you're a bit too glad there Sull...” It was the beginning of what would end in a playful banter no doubt, but he was on for the ride. After all, his tab was never ending and the night had only just begin. In what other manner would they reunite, then then a battle of wits after all. “Oh, please. You lose in Wii boxing. Let’s not.” Reaching over to lightly ruffle her hair, he was quick to fix it back in place before her frown grew too deep between her brows. “You didn’t know? I was thinkin’ I could be the one on the floor tonight and you could carry me like the Princess Bride.”

Beck wasn’t a stranger to broken ties. After all he had a habit of tearing them apart. Not others’ per say, but towards his own he definitely had a knack to destroy. So he could understand the repercussions of walking around with a torn heart. He’d issued out quite a few of his own throughout the years. And it had been odd in the beginning, to connect with Haley in the way that he had. After all, she had just been through a divorce, and it hadn’t been but a few months before he’d been on the breaking part of a break up. The last thing he’d wanted was to hurt someone whose heart was already bordering on raw. But it had quickly became apparent that the bond between the two went a bit deeper than just sex––it was a friendship. One that included as many late night movie marathons as it did casual visitations. There was no room for heart break, because they’d never fully given each other their hearts to begin with. It was just on the borderline of what Beck was willing to involve himself with. Not too close, but also not too far away. He could be parts of himself with Haley that not many others got to see, and it felt good to have that. They were each other’s outlets, it more ways then one. And with all her taunts and smirks he knew that tonight would be no different. “Yes, I’m quite aware of my competition, thank you, Hales.” Sarcasm laced within his words, he playfully rolled his eyes. “You say that as if I’m not usually productive––though, I’ll give you a free pass on that one because I really am in the mood for some grub. And also i’m not selfish, I know Bruce would kill me if i showed up without ya, so.” An impish shrug fell over his shoulders before he found himself chuckling once more.