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@desmond--murphy
The Bouncer || Desmond & Cassie
"You’re always sweet as pie, Des," she said, smiling at him and letting him mess up her hair. "What’s happening in the joint, hm? Give anyone the bum’s rush, yet?" she asked, fixing her hair.
"It's the same ol' shite," he half growled, half whined, "I just wanna pound into somethin' already, dammit." Realizing his own words, he looked at the girl and laughed.
"'Course, you'd know all about that."
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The Bouncer || Open
Those same large, somewhat glazed eyes landed on the hand he had settled on her shoulder. “Oh, I’m real swell, on the level.” She surely felt alright — much thanks to the gin a client had shared with her.
She nearly laughed at his next comment, but instead settled for a knowing smile as she readjusted her outerwear. “I’m a friend of Aidan’s, s’all. He’s one of my favourite birds.” So long as this bouncer was intent on talking to her, Brigita withdrew one of her few remaining cigarettes and lit it, eyes running over the length of him as she did. In reality, he probably knew her for another reason entirely: he’d been in Fiona’s brothel, or seen her in the depths of night. Brigita learned quickly that men memorized your face quickly when they knew you were one of those girls. But she couldn’t recall ever taking him as a client.
She leaned against the building’s exterior, one hip jutted, exhaling smoke. “You figure out where you know me from yet, Big Six?”
Something about the way this woman spoke threw the man off. It was... charming. Being around, rough-tounged, vile, borderline-filthy mouthed men and women alike had caused a certain alienation from those who structured their sentences with a level of gusto. He couldn't help himself from cocking his head to the side as he stared.
"A friend of Aidan's, huh?" he said, following suit and lighting up a cigarette of his own, "You seem a little too brain-ey to be a friend of Aidan's." He laughed, giving in to his own sour joke. A bad habit he had.
"I'd love to say that I could never forget a pretty face," he sighed, "But I'm sorry, lass, just can't place my finger on it."
The Bouncer || Desmond & Dexter
Dexter smirked Desmond’s way before nudging him back. “You know how I am.” He paused, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He popped one in between his lips before offering one to Desmond.
Desmond swiped a cigarette from the deck and lit it. Inhaling the smoke, he felt a cool feeling rush over him and for a moment he took himself out of his own world and into a new, quieter place.
With the exhale, he brought himself back. "Don't we all, mate," he chuckled, "So where've you been off to lately? Been a while"
The Bouncer || Open
You think I’m some weak ol’ dame. I can handle myself.
Desmond couldn't help but smile at the blonde girl.
"Miss Cassie Huntley," his eyes shifted from her top to bottom and back up again, "Looking absolutely as fine as always. Don't you worry, ol' dame. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on you."
He chuckled before giving the girl's hair a small ruffle.
The Bouncer || Desmond & Dexter
Well that’s exactly like I like it.
[Smirks slightly]
Desmond smiled and laughed heartily at the sight of Dexter.
"Course it is, mate, ya dog you," he said as he gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder.
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The Bouncer || Open
She paused, tattered stole slipping off one shoulder. “But the stars have gone quiet out here.” Large eyes turned to the heavens for emphasis, before returning to the slightly familiar man with a raise of her brow. “And I can’t say I care much for hearing my thoughts tonight.”
For a moment, Desmond stood dazed at the woman's response. Arching an eyebrow he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You okay, love?"
Looking into her eyes also sparked a slight moment in his mind. "Where have I seen you before?"
The Bouncer || Open
[Gesturing to the inside of the pub] You might wanna be careful in there, night's gettin' a little loud if you know what I mean
Can I Help You? || Phoebe & Desmond
A smile appeared on her face as she moved to her table where she had a sewing, and some other materials, and sat down. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take me too long. I have nothing important happening after this.” She was silent for a moment as she began to work, but without taking her eyes off of what she was doing she spoke only to end the silence. “What happened to this jacket? I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”
As she had spoken an expression of amusement crossed her face as she stopped to check and see if she was repairing the jacket correctly, and inspect to see if it looked good. The repair was coming along much better than she had originally anticipated, and she continued on fixing his jacket.
Desmond nodded and took a seat next to the store's window. The sun was beginning to set, sending an orange glare across the room; blending in with the color of her flowing hair. He shuffled about in his pocket before procuring a cigarette and proceeded to light it up. For an odd reason, though seeing through the thick haze of smoke was near impossible, everything was much clearer to the man when smoking.
"Nothin' special," he replied, tapping the cigarette's end and allowing the ashes to fall to the floor, "But if you find anythin' red... it's... jam."
"Say," he began, "Where you from? I've not seen you 'round these places, you new or somethin'?"
Can I Help You? || Phoebe & Desmond
Her eyes widened a bit as she saw the man walk in, and make his way straight toward her, at that Phoebe was even more surprised by the rip in jacket that he had set on the counter. She wasn’t completely sure that she could fix it, but she was determined to find a way to do it, and do a good job as well.
Phoebe carefully took the jacket, and examined it while biting her lip. Her eyes met his, and she nodded. “Yes. I can fix this if you just give me a moment. Do you have time? Or were you looking to drop this off, and get it later? I was just about to close up, but I don’t mind fixing this right up for you.”
In the moments where he stood and waited for a reply, Desmond had taken the time to acknowledge the presence of the woman before him. Something about the way she handled the simple piece of material in front of her, to Desmond, made her seem elegant. Just watching her contemplate so deeply that it caused the bite in her lip was enough for him to calm down and not be so stressed out.
His eyes shot up to hers, snapping him out of his daze when she called out to him. "Yes?" he muttered, needing a moment to decipher what she had just said in his head, "I mean... yeah. Is it okay if I just wait here whilst you go and fix it? No need to be right away. Don't wanna take away from your time off or anythin' like that."
Pause || Roy & Desmond
Roy chuckled, “you get into fights every night?” His thoughts wandered back to their initial meeting. A fight had broken out in the bar, he wondered if it really was a common occurrence to the man. If Roy’s recollection of the night was to be trusted, the man hadn’t seemed bothered whatsoever by the sudden violence. Perhaps it was like what apparently happened to doctors and soldiers — they became desensitized to the violence and death around them.
He sighed, “I had plans to go out with some friends tonight but it seems they’ve either forgotten, or gotten lost.” These particular friends had always lived life in a way that the present governed it more than reality. Drinking and driving was a common occurrence, for all Roy knew they could have gotten into trouble. He looked at the old man across the street slowly making his way down with his cane and made a count, if, by the time he’d reached the end of the street his friends hadn’t arrived, Roy’d go off on his own.
He took a cigarette from the box, “thanks,” he pulled a lighter from his own pocket. “Are you still keeping up with — what was it — football?”
"More or less," he replied with a sigh, "a good punch can really get the blood pumping, but most times it's just fuckin' annoying." Which Desmond had found to become much more true as the nights came and went. There was once a time where he'd be looking for the chance to swing at some rowdy lad, but these nights were nights he found himself praying for just a relaxing time.
"Hah," he chuckled before getting serious again, "Some friends if they've forgotten you. Where were you fellas headed?"
He placed the packet of cigarettes back into his coat pocket, swiping his hand on some blood. "Not so much," he said, distracted by the thought of whether or not the blood belonged to him, "Hard to catch a game, you know? But you? How'sit with your baseball?"
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Can I Help You? || Phoebe & Open
It had been an uncharacteristically quiet day at work for Phoebe, and she couldn’t help but be thankful for the fact that the day was finally coming to a close. She was alive with new clothing ideas for things she wanted to make for herself, and she was itching to get home and get to work. There were only a couple of things that seemed to get in the way of that simultaneously. The first thing was as she was putting things away, and cleaning up, she found her stomach growling loudly signifying that she would have to find food before getting stuck in front of a project. The other thing was the door to the shop opened, catching her attention as a person walked in, thinking maybe it was her boss. “I was just…” Her eyes landed on the person, and she stood up straighter, “Oh, I’m sorry, hi.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Was all that ran through Desmond's head as he turned the corner and took the first step on to the street where he would find the seamstress. If it weren't for the minor brawl he'd gotten into at work, he wouldn't have to be spending money to get his only good jacket fixed. He held the jacket in his arms, carefully trying not to make the rip across the back any worse than it was.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He entered the store, not really knowing (or caring) whether the shop was still open or not. It was suspicious at first when the only person to be seen was a young and attractive girl, but there was hardly any time for that. "Yeah. So.. this," he placed the jacket on the counter, "Can ya fix it?"
Pause || Roy & Desmond
He frowned, more so to see the stranger better than out of displeasure at the close but not quite name he’d been called. “Close, it’s Roy,” he pushed himself up from the steps, bringing the man fully into view. It was almost a requirement in his occupation with the frequency that people visited to memorize faces and names — and not only that, but their drink preferences as well. Though Roy didn’t always get it square on, he could make a reasonably good guess. “We met at…The Stroll?” he pointed at the man as if that would make it easier to identify him.
Leaning forward he rested the weight of his body on his knees, “rough night?” Roy gestured at him with his chin, he certainly looked worn out like rags after too many beatings.
"Aah, Roy," Desmond procured from his pocket a packet of cigarettes and offered the man one before lighting up his own. As the smoke moved it's way down his throat and into his lungs, as did all the stress of tonight's events; calming the man as he exhaled both forms. "I guess..." he shrugged in reply to the man's guess at where they had first met. It didn't really matter to him.
Desmond wiped his chin to find just a little blood on it, not entirely sure if it was his or not. "Just another night, friend," he replied, "And you? Don't seem like you're havin' the time of your life."
Pause || Open
Roy yawned, taking a seat on the front steps of someone’s apartment. He’d happened upon a day off that day, and spent most of it running about Montford on errands so now as the day dissipated into night, he was looking forward to a night out with his friends. Only, instead of going out, he was stuck waiting for them to arrive on someone else’s steps. He leaned back on the steps, resting his head on his arms, feeling rather than seeing someone stop in front of him. “Evening,”
Desmond had been having quite the interesting night. It was all fun and games at the pub until he had to actually do his job and throw out a few rowdy gentleman who weren't only beginning to stir a bit of trouble but were getting mighty handsy with Teagan. But, not for the first time, he had to be sent home himself. Some people just can't take a punch.
Arriving at his building, he found a man propped down on the steps leading to the door. At first, he thought it was just another drunken homeless. But moving closer, he discovered that the face was not at all unfamiliar.
"I've seen you before," he called out, "R...Ray was it?"
Anyone want to be an assistant?
What does that even mean? Are you trying to be funny?
Now who taught you to scowl like that?
Anyone want to be an assistant?
I’m in a desperate need of one. Must love dogs and long hours.
Nope, unless you're lookin' to get mugged. *winks*
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Closing Time || Wes and Desmond
"Alright, can’t argue with that, just make sure there’s no evidence of our crime, I’m a tough guy, but I ain’t ashamed to admit my cousin Sue’s a whole lot tougher." Wes pulled the pastry out of the case and laid it on a plate in front of them. Taking a knife he cut the dough right down the middle, strawberry jelly oozing out the second the blade moved out of the way. "Cheers." Wes took his side and raised it to the man across from him, as if he was about to down a shot with a good friend.
Desmond took the soft dough in his hands, cussing at the jelly that began to fall from its place and slide down his pinky. With a smile, he made eyes with the store clerk and raised the pastry in return. "To Sue then, I guess." With a gentle tip of his head, he inserted the entirety of the powdered dough into his mouth. The sweetness of the strawberry overpowered his taste buds instantly and refuge was sought in the bland taste of the bread. "Jesus..." he exclaimed, trying to get it down, "That was way fuckin' sweet. Ain't no shortage of sugar back there, huh?"
Four Letter Fun || Desmond & Teagan
[Teagan swatted his hand away before it could do too much damage to her pinned up hair] If I was any other way, you would love me less Desmond. [She winked in his direction before looking back out over the mass of people] Guess I better get back into the fray. Wish me luck, dear. I have rent comin’ due.
Oh c'mon now don't be like that. Y'know I'd still love you had you twice as less on that behind of yours [Laughing, he takes the time to notice the old men from earlier dispersing] Well then, love, you best work hard.
