Carving away our fingerprints

He made good money as a bartender, there was no denying that. Good looking enough to make girls feel special when he gave his attention to them, not so good looking that the boyfriends wanted to fight. And while he is distracted for a moment by her coughing fit, wishing he had brought some of his stashed water bottles out, he still manages to make note of her calling him charming. "Wow, El. You're acting like you've never smoked before. You good?" It felt good, being out there with her. Relaxing, and not just because of the weed. It was just the first time he could actually talk to her and not worry about the cameras overhead -- even if he was still nervous, trying to keep a good impression. "Hey, I don't care -- I'm happy to listen to any and all complaints you have. I mean, empty is empty. Don't get me wrong," He paused to take a quick puff, eyebrows furrowed in focus, "if I suddenly had half of what you do, almost all my problems would be solved. Almost. Money can't do it all." He was being a bit too kind, of course. Anyone else and he would be rolling his eyes. "As much as I would love to open doors for the rest of my life I've been trying to be a photographer for.. basically my entire teenage years up to now. More of a passionate hobby, I guess, but I can dream that one day it'll pay the bills."

Sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, she whined, "Don't make fun," she dropped her pout and chuckled, "I am a baby when it comes to smoking, I know. No matter how much I do it, I just have a sensitive throat." It was easier for her to take smaller hits, but she usually pushed herself. "And for the record that was cute coughing. Sometimes, I choke out to the point of snot and tears," she confessed, finding it easy to speak freely to him. She did grow serious in reaction to his coddling. "Don't do that," she warned, "don't kiss my ass just because I'm me. I was being stupid, and I apologize. I live without real purpose, but so do a lot of peopl, and they don't have near what I do to cope with it, so...." She trailed off, meeting his eyes so he would know she was serious. She didn't want to be one of those people who never grows because they get away with everything.

El became visibly excited again as she watched him talk about his passion. She loved watching someone talk about something they had real love and ambition for. It made her somewhat envious. "Well, I can get you in contact with some people. I've worked with a lot of photographers." She reached over, plucking the joint from between his fingers, smiling coyly as she moved to hit it. Quietly, she thought of what else she could do for him if he'd let her. Blowing out the smoke, she said, "You could also shoot me sometime. I'd post it with credit. It'd get you a lot of attention." The thought of him and her alone with a camera made her heart race, and she wasn't even thinking dirty.

But she likes them, they make her happy and there's not a whole lot of that going around. "Thanks, it's got ghosts on it." Like that wasn't already extremely obvious by the explosion of paraphernalia all over the dark cloth. Ghosts are her thing, that's why she likes the movies she likes, even her favorite band has a ghostly theme.

Lace still hasn't entirely figured out why a guy like him is talking to her. Maybe he's just bored, maybe he's gearing up for some big joke. Could be anything. Or maybe he's just one of those guys that says something nice and follows it up with some kind of nasty comment about her ass. "I'm uh just going home ... might make spaghetti."

Plus, she was apparently a fan of his. Not that he could picture this little, reserved girl listening to the heavy metal his band played. Maybe she had a brother who gave her the pin or something. That seemed more likely.

Leaning forward with an overly wide smile, looking a little predatory, something akin to a big bad wolf as he said, "Well, what a coincidence, I love spagehtti." He basically invited himself over, but what was she going to do, say no? Jared had already deduced no wasn't in this girl's vocabulary. It'd make him sad if it wasn't to his benefit. "Listen, I was supposed to be staying with a friend for a few days, and I can't get ahold of him, so I was hopin' maybe I could wait at your place. Maybe take a shower." He made a show of sniffing himself, screwing up his face. "Yeah, that ain't pretty." He clapped a hand onto her shoulder, keeping it there. "So, whaddya say?" When it occured to him that he had yet to even introduce himself to her, he added, "I'm Jared, by the way."

Good to know he can still manage alright even when he's drunk in the back of a cab. He's certain regardless that he'll be a hell of a lot more charming today than he would have been last night. He'll need to make sure his hat is dust free and his boots polished, he's got a little time.

[TEXT] What counts as horrible?

[TEXT] Like the worst thing I could do?

[TEXT] Nothing too morally debasing, otherwise I'm pretty flexible

[TEXT] What and make tonight easy for you?

[TEXT] You sure seemed confident you could make my night worthwhile last night

Her eyes stayed glued to the clock, watching the minutes pass as she waited for it to hit three. Usually she wasn't the type to run out right as the hour struck but today she had all her stuff packed up and ready to go so when the hour turned she was striding down the halls toward the elevator, her phone back in her hands.

At his joke -- that was a joke right? -- her eyebrows shoot up in surprise before she shakes her head, little red flyaway strands getting caught around her face. "I uh yeah I was waiting for the bus. And sure they come back but they usually go pretty easy on me ... mostly."

At this point Lace is just accepting assholes as a consistent part of her life. She got started nice and young with her shit dad and now she's made her peace with the fact that there must be something about her face that's just asking to be insulted. A silence follows, and she has the sudden urge to fill it, "I like your hair."

Both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise at her compliment. He wasn't sure how to take it. He didn't receive many compliments, at least not when his mask was off and he wasn't performing. "You are a fucking werirdo, aren't you?" Not the typical response to a compliment, but a genuine reaction nonetheless. He subconciously touched his mop of hair.

In an unusal attempt to return her kindness, out of compassion or selfish interest in leeching off her, who could tell, his eyes roamed over her. "I like your.." He hesitated, "Your...backpack." Examining it closer, his eyes widened slightly when he spotted one of her pins. 'Die Monstro'. Not only a familiar name, but a familiar pin. He and his bandmates had pressed those pins to sell themselves. He concealed his reaction, not wanting to draw attention. It was an anon band for a reason, after all. "So, uh," he scratched his chin, "What do you got going on this afternoon?"

Slowly, a grin broke across her face.

“Jesse,” she said, turning in his arms and looking up at him with a laugh bubbling in her throat. “You scared the hell outta me, you idiot.” She gave him a playful shove to the chest, but her smile never faded. Her heart was still racing, caught somewhere between nostalgia and holy hell, he got hotter. “I didn’t tell you ‘cause I wanted to see that dumb look on your face,” she teased, flicking his cap gently. “Mission accomplished.” She stepped back and held her hands out, gesturing to her overflowing basket—streamers, sparkling lemonade, confetti cake mix, and way too many glow sticks. “I’m back for my 21st tomorrow. Thought I’d throw myself a proper disaster of a party. You in?”

A blush spread across his cheeks when she flicked his hat. It seemed it was just as easy for her to get under his skin as it used to be. "What? You mean you haven't given up on big city life and decided to move back for some down to earth, humble living?" Jesse joked, but deep down, he was a little disappointed that she was only visiting. "Ah, that's right, that's right around the corner. Hell yeah, I'm in!" His naturally happy demenor turned slightly bashful, scratching the back of his neck. "So... how long exactly are'ya in town?" He'd like to do something special for her, something for the two of them for such a special occasion.

He cupped his hand around the lighter to keep the wind from blowing it out as he lit the joint, letting his gaze linger on her lips for a moment longer than necessary. "One sec," He tucked the joint into the corner of his mouth, holding it gently as he shrugged out of his sports coat -- fortunately, the company uniform required him to wear one embroidered with the complex's name. "Here, don't want you to freeze," he gave her an apologetic look for not thinking it through before they stepped outside, putting the jacket around her shoulders so she couldn't protest. Once he could refocus (he was never great at multitasking), he took a short hit and passed the joint back. "Mm, just lucked into it I guess. I used to be a bartender so I'm used to the overnights, I got sick of that scene though. Too much... noise. So I applied here on a whim and..." he gestured as if to say and here I am. "What do you do to pass the time? I only know the nighttime party habits, what's your daytime alter ego like?"

Seb's answer genuinely interested her, and she listened to him speak while she took another hit and held it in. Her words were breathless sounding as she spoke around the smoke still sitting in her lungs, "I bet you were real good at that. Charming bastard." El released the smoke, small choked coughs accomanying the cloud. "Probably made some good tips," she finished when she caught her breath. She waved away her question, hating answering such inquiries because she was embarrassed. "Oh God, I'm..." She thought of the best way to describe what she did without being too self-depricating. "I'm seriously one of those annoying trustfund babies that everyone hates. I take pictures for instgram for a living. Make way too money to make a sponsered post, shit like that. You'd think it was a dream, but it's pretty empty living." She shrugged her shoulders and took one more small puff off the joint before passing it back. "I'm not gonna complain to you, I know how stupidly privileged I sound." She laughed dryly. "I don't have much ambition, considering I don't need to strive for much more. But what about you? You a dreamer? Or are you going to be content working here for us ungrateful assholes?" She smiled wryly up at him.

She thought college would be the turning point, she's cleaner now, and pays the water bill. Well she did, but on account of just being fired yesterday that might become her brother's job for a little bit. But people still look at her funny. She glances around the pavement looking for anything else that fell out of her bag, reaching forward for a little knitted white ghost that she shoves in her bag, looking up at the stranger.

She doesn't know who he is, what he wants. He's helping her and insulting her at the same time. "Uh ... no point in resisting I guess." She takes the pen he's holding out to her, pushing it into her bag. "They leave me alone faster if I just kinda take it."

Who was supposed to be looking after this girl? With a semi annoyed huff, Jared tucked his book under his arm and reached down to offer his hand to her so he could help her to her feet. "They might leave you alone faster, but they keep coming back." The hard look on his face softened a bit, turning almost playful. "That's why I shoot the motherfuckers that mess with me right in the head."

He was joking but didn't make it obvious by laughing. Reaadjusting his backpack, he stuffed his book into it. "Well," he started, "where are you headed to? Were you going to wait for the bus too?" He asked her, sure she didn't have a car, or maybe a license. He also didn't have anything to do, and maybe not anywhere to even go, so he was looking for someone to leech onto for a meal and maybe a place to sleep.