𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 / 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏

Open: All @crimsonstarters​

Location: Sweeney Todd Musical

Darren had sent Diamond a few good luck texts. He was excited realizing his girlfriend was going to be part of the production of Sweeney Todd. All he wanted to do was move forward in their relationship and supporting her was something he was good at. He had absolutely no problem expressing his admiration towards her. After her performance he was going to give her a bouquet of roses. Girls like shit like that. He decided to fetch an Uber and headed towards the theater. As he got out, he looked at everyone in their fancy suits, and was relieved knowing he at least fit in. It wasn’t a plain black suit, it definitely stood somewhat out, and he was happy to know it held some personality. 

“Boring fucks.” He mumbled to himself with a slight chuckle. 

Darren went to the ticket booth and got his ticket. He strolled into the lobby and just took in the entire atmosphere. His eyes were entranced by the bar and he couldn’t help himself but just poke his head in to see what all the fuss was about. After briefly examining he left it and headed back towards the lobby. He had some time to kill before it actually started and he decided to take out his phone and watch some Netflix. 

He turned to look at someone closest to him and poked their shoulder to get their attention. “’Scuse me, sorry, but when does t’a show start?” 

-

      “ i ... have no idea. ” eddie confessed, letting his eyes drop to the watch affixed to his left wrist. he was here for a job - no joy in the theater ... that was more a hobby of his ex wife, really. but still he was here, dressed in a suit more inconspicuous than not. he’d opted to work security for the night (not for the theater but as an extra assignment in tandem with the PD) and if only because he was entirely too suspicious of anything in chicago after the events that brought him back here for so many years. still, with his hair slicked back to look the part of an attendee and a suit that he would sooner toss onto the floor of his home than wear again, eddie was here.

      eyes shifted across the room in hopes of finding a sign advertising the event in the lobby somewhere but to no avail. all he could offer was an expression of half-sincere apology and a shrug of his shoulder. “ my guess is soon. at least, when the crowd starts moving past itself to get in for seating. ”

location: bar area open to: everyone

if there was one thing she learned by now, it was to never wear a dress for things like this. ever. she learned her lesson in the past. it was was why this time she settled on wearing a nice pair of pants, a nice top and a black blazer. to her, that was more comfortable anyway. taking a deep breath, faith made her way over to the bar. ordering herself a rum and coke, she leaned against the counter as she waited. tonight was all about relaxing and enjoying her night with her date. that was the goal. “call me crazy but it’s been years since i last saw a musical on stage.”

-

      “ i’m more of a symphony person, myself. but i figured i deserved a night out. ” though shay was certainly questioning whether or not coming to the production was worth it. sure, it hadn’t started yet but it wasn’t quite her speed ... nor her taste in musical, in general. but there was no use in pressing a sour expression to her features, even if she seemed to keep a form of resting bitch face glued to her visage normally. she swallowed the last of her own drink and set the glass on the counter, turning to be more sociable to the woman beside her. “ here’s to hoping it’ll be something to see, hm? ”

Location: Java Addicts Time: 9 AM Open Starter | @crimsonstarters​

Today being Maggie’s day off was absolutely perfect. She’d just gotten a tattoo to memorialize her dearly departed cat Rufus from Abraham a week ago and it was still healing. She’d also decided to get two more small tattoos today at his shop, meeting another artist from Unbound named Dylan. Parts of her were a bit sore and itchy so not working was probably best for her, considering all of the physical activities she had to do that would no doubt rub wrong and hurt.

So here she was, sat in the corner of Java Addicts, sketching strangers and enjoying her morning coffee and croissant. She sketched a mother and her child, arguing over a cake pop. An elderly man on a laptop who was clearly having trouble running a program on it as he became frustrated and argued into his phone with, who she guessed, was his child or grandchild, no doubt. There was a couple near the entrance, enjoying a conversation as they stared longingly into each other’s eyes and then another, sitting by themselves with their drink. 

As she began sketching the last person, she got lost in the detail of their face when she realized all too late that they were now staring straight at her. She quickly diverted her eyes and smirked, blushing slightly. 

Goddammit, here we go, she thought.

-

      in any other instance he wouldn’t mind strange eyes on him. it was always like something of an itch, something in the back of his mind that gave little alarm bells and let him know that someone, somewhere had their eye on him. journeys out of the house since the events of the october horror house had been few and far between (with the occasional trip out of the house to prevent cabin fever from settling into his bones sprinkled therein) with good and bad days waxing and waning as steadily as the moon did each month. while ira had never particularly considered himself to be a vain man he was certainly apprehensive now with the mark of his injury finally healing and receding from raw pink to colorless white. but it was still there ---he knew it, wide on his forehead and above his left eye where the only feasible way he could hide it was if he decided he wanted to go through a late emo phase (not a good look on anyone really, never mind a 40 year old man). so he settled with ignoring it, or trying to.

      except the eyes he felt on him, had his brows raising as he attempted to read through the front page of popular on reddit - opting out for coffee rather than sitting at home and further spoiling nyx. it took every ounce of strength he had from allowing the strange wash of self-conscious thoughts from overtaking him and surely if anyone was looking it wasn’t at that ruddy mark, was it? after a long moment eyes lifted, scanned the coffee shop for where that spidey-sense was originating, before he found the source: someone was sketching him. it made sense, more than just open-mouthed gawking at what was surely a well-healing wound but still ira could feel the tenseness in his shoulders. her eyes dipped down to her sketch pad and he felt his lips press into a thin line, a soft chuckle wracking his shoulders.

      he could be quite asocial in the right scenario, but it would keep gnawing at him. so he pocketed his phone and snatched his cup of coffee, taking quiet steps to bridge the gap - and stay out of her light as he came to the table. “ slip you a fiver if you leave the scar out of the drawing. it’s not my most fetching feature. ”

His logic made sense, he wasn’t about to argue with him. But he was one strange fucking guy, and he met a lot of weirdos in his day. “So you will die of pill, I will die of vodka. Seems OK. Maybe we make pact, if one of us doesn’t do job properly we shoot the other, yes? Merciful death. Quick. Painless.” 

-

      “ for a second i was worried you were going to suggest bludgeoning to death instead, so i’ll happily agree to that. ” the idea of the aforementioned method had ira pursing his lips, something of a spoiled look filling his features. but a zombie death pact - he could get behind that. “ i think it depends on where we shoot each other if it’s quick and painless, though. i imagine timing it would be a bitch. ”

“it wasn’t an extra shift sadly, i was filling in for someone in the ER.”  during her residency, she had worked in the different fields of the hospital. from general to trauma. so she was thankful she had that experience. “I usually work in the mornings though.” it was the time she picked. work in the mornings, get the rest of the day off unless she had to do a surgery. “i can say, after last night, i’m never agreeing to working the night shift again.”

-

      “ you still get differential though, no? ” he wasn’t medical, never had been, but he knew how the work system tried to compensate for being awake at 5am still with two hours left to go. “ i don’t know what’s worse in the long haul - working third shift and reversing your sleep schedule ... but being left the hell alone, or working first shift and suffering through the last little bits of the afternoon to go to bed early and be up to do it again. i couldn’t do medical. ” a soft laugh left him, the littlest of chuckles that had eddie imagining himself in a set of scrubs only for a second before letting honey eyes fall onto the woman. “ bad shift, then? i’d imagine night shift would be quieter - er or not. ”

Location: Wolves Open To: All  @crimsonstarters

clad in​ a bar t-shirt and ripped black jeans, tony made stride behind the bar, cleaning up the previous shift’s mess with a roll of his eyes and a towel over his shoulder as he emptied the trash and made himself a drink to hide under the counter. he enjoyed his job, even if it wasn’t so evident as he calmed the chaos just before their usual rush. as he replenished the fruit his eyes shifted up to the fresh face that had taken the seat directly in front of him, a small grin pressed to his lips as his eyebrow rose. “’afternoon..” he mused as he placed down a napkin for the drink he’d inevitably serve. “we blackin’ out, or keepin’ it tame?” he quipped.

-

      when the stress got to her she could feel it as a burning tightness in the very back of her neck - between her shoulder blades where reaching fingers could sear to the very touch - it’s how shay knew she needed a break. at least her eyes didn’t cross, didn’t have a hard time focusing on the numbers as they crunched in her head and left the tips of dutiful digits ---all work and no play made anyone feel just a little insane. bundled against the cold of chicago shay set off to get herself a hard drink ... something that always did the trick. and a short trip later had her depositing herself before the bartender, his little grin enough to have shay giving one back, “ tame, for now. maybe blackout depending on how i feel after the first few. midori sour, please. ”

“I prefer the greenery,” she said in response. She never had a chance to actually stop and look at how withered everything was when the autumn came. “I think I’d like it better if it wasn’t so cold,” she gave the stranger a weak smile.  “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about the winter,” perhaps the whole year had changed her outlook on life. Before she would just walk through the park and not give it any thought, now she stopped and realised how much the world actually changed. 

“I’m Cecilia,” she didn’t know why she introducted herself to a complete stranger. It was the end of the year, a new one was right around the corner. Perhaps she should try and be more social during the next year. Try and discover life outside of work, try and forgive and forget the past.

“I think what I miss the most are the wildlife. The birds are gone and it’s just us. That’s what I like about the park during the warmer months. The green and the birds. Shows that despite us putting up all this there’s still something that can live alongside us.”

-

      “ i think most people do. i’ve always been fond of the changing leaves: the golds and reds, the smell of them, the crisp air. but .... you know, winter soon follows and spoils everything. ” ira chuckled, gesturing at the park around them as if it would highlight the cold specifically ---and maybe it did. he could certainly feel it nipping at the tip of his nose. “ i try not to think about winter, but winter thinks about me. i imagine how warm my house is while i’m not in it. my little cat basking in a sunbeam and collecting all the heat like a miniature furnace. lucky thing. ”

      his chuckle lacked bitterness, instead the amusement at the image of nyx stretched out on the living room floor, soaking in as much of the heat from the sun while it held that position in the sky. he only snapped-to when his company introduced herself, and ira nodded in response - something of a small smile upturning the corners of his lips. “ ira. it’s nice to meet you, cecilia. ” and it was ---it was nice to pretend that, for this moment and this conversation, he was somewhere other than chicago. somewhere that lacked senseless violence and pain. of course, such places didn’t necessarily exist but something about his home in vermont significantly lacked a gang presence that reminded him of why he disliked chicago in the first place.

      “ and the squirrels. everything is just more alive in the warmer months. including, but not limited to, my seasonal allergies. ” ira chuckled, realizing that he was both looking forward to the spring to break away from the cold winter air and ruing it for how congested he already knew he would be. a give and a take. “ we’ll be there soon-enough. just have to suffer through a little bit more. you know, giant snow storm on thanksgiving aside. ”

starter: open location: dirty harry’s ( neutral territory )

@crimsonstarters​

the former dive bar was a but of a ‘fixer upper’ when lorelai first bought it. passing by it’s dilapidated doors every day on her morning walks, her curiosity piqued when passing by the once famous dirty harry’s, that had become nothing more than a ghost of four walls that concerned no one but the spider that sheltered within it, and the dust that built on it’s rickety shelves. a dream from her younger days, once considered forgotten upon joining the police force, was to create a space devoted to live music and conversation, inspired by the likes of CBGB’s and the whisky a go go. sleeping in hotels for majority of your twenties while working odd jobs around the world build up a small nest egg, it sat idle for years. yes, lorelai took a leap purchasing this place, there’s no denying it. but between her two jobs, there wasn’t much else she could proudly put her name to. living two different lives for the fausts and the us marshalls, the woman couldn’t help but lose touch with her own identity. her likeness manufactured for the satisfaction of the powers above her. dirty harry’s was all hers, a place were there’d be no more pretending. 

the old dive bar stairs lead down to the bar, stage, and seating area. she’d plastered the walls with vinyl covers, stretching from abba to led zeppelin. the band booked for tonight wouldn’t come for another hour or so, the stage looks almost naked bereft of instruments and seas of cords. the bartender had started to shine the glasses with a towel like in an episode of cheers. lorelai watches him for a moment, before flicking on the old jukebox machine she found at a yard sale. higher ground by stevie wonder comes on the rotating platform. she taps her fingers against the side of her leg to the songs drum beat while sauntering back over to the tables — her name is called, and it takes lorelai a moment to process the sound over stevie’s voice in the background. “—yes?” funny, she wasn’t expecting patrons for another hour or so…

-

      “ i’d heard a rumor, ” her name had come from his mouth before he could think to stop himself, so much that his eyes were wildly soaking in the scenery around the bar before he even thought to find where his co-worker might be within it. dirty harry’s had been there, operating, before eddie had left for the navy so many years ago and wasn’t something he had considered upon his return. at least not until he heard that it had been purchased and revived in some fashion. he’d only been inside once himself in its hay day ---and unfortunate circumstance following a friend in to search for a wayward parent more interested in drinking themselves to sleep than coming home, but lorelai’s fixer-upper project seemed much nicer than memory served.

      the corners of his lips tipped upward, honey eyes sought the smaller frame of his fellow marshal and eddie found himself more bemused by how dirty harry’s seemed to slip backward in time the further down the steps one went to enter it ---a nice touch. “ it’s looking good in here. ” he paused for a moment, gaze flickering to the juke box for the song of choice and back to her, “ you threw in a lot of spit and elbow grease, huh? ”

Open to: All | Location: Anywhere neutral

“You only have one hour to prepare yourself in zombie apocalypse, what you do? Me? I grab as many bottle of vodka as I can. If I die, I die in style.” 

-

      “ nuh, i don’t fuck with zombies. best case scenario, you survive the initial outbreak and the chaos but everyone you care about is either dead, missing, or dying. then you have the task of finding a momentary safe-haven and trying to get on with your life as if these plague walkers aren’t about to tear your jugular out if you accidentally sneeze in your sleep. worst case scenario, you’re bitten in a shitty place and die a slow and painful death. or torn apart while you’re alive. i’m gonna take the easy way out and down everything in my medicine cabinet. problem solved. ”

      “ i ... like, literally or ... ? ‘cause literally ... no. they’re ... normal? normal sized? normal sized. i have normal sized ... compared to ... yeah. normal. everything is normal. ”

   super detailed asks.

      ---ira doesn’t have much of a temper - he’s a relatively patient and laid back guy. everyone does have a breaking point, and he gets snappish once he reaches his: shorter tone, biting words, a more irritable expression. typically he attempts to avoid getting there (and things that would put him there) as much as possible.

    super detailed asks.