bina / dezi

“Cocktail, schmocktail- ‘s all fair game as long as it’s got booze in it,” Terrence chirped in return; lips still pulled into a wide grin. And sure, maybe he’s sitting upright at an eighty degree angle, but he felt fine - peachy keen as any southerner would call it. 

“Sides, it ain’t like I haven’t mixed m’poisons ‘fore.” Which wasn’t something to boast about, but that one year in college had sure introduced him to some wacky tastes. 

“Oh it’s got booze in it, alright,” he chuckled. Dezi gave a quick swirl of the amber liquid in his glass before downing what little was left and placed it back on the bar with a tap to gain the attention of the bartender. “You don’t gotta convince me, cowboy.” 

“Another whiskey neat,” he said to the bartender, then pointed at Terrence, “and one for the Lone Ranger as well.”

status: closed @gatcrbait​

Lover’s Lane again, and Gael was starting to think this was becoming a routine. Except for this one time, at least. He hadn’t come here for a leisurely walk - not like all the other times he found himself underneath the pavilion’s cover. No, tonight his gut churned with constant unease. 

Something wasn’t right.

And that some drew his instincts towards the renown hot spot for young couples. Ever diligent, Roscoe padded next to him with ears and tail perked. Gael, himself, kept his own senses and wits about him; in search for the answer to his worry. And much to his relief and horror, he actually found the cause right at the edge. 

“Oye-” Footsteps quickened to close the remaining distance. He wasted no time to hunch over and check for a pulse - to see if Dezi was even alive. A bit dramatic, sure, but there wasn’t much sense when a small flare of panic started to bloom. 

A string of whines came from Roscoe as the canine paced around; trying to butt against his legs and nudge him down. Right. Right. Deep breaths - things were alright since he could see the man breathing. “Dezi, wake up.” Resignation began to replace the alarm, and he even shook the other for a good measure; just hard enough to rouse a sleeping person. Or so he hoped. 

"Que paso!” Dezi sputtered as he woke, blinking away his fogginess in the moonlight until his eyes settled on Gael. It was right then that he knew he’d fucked up. Again. 

The damn dog almost nudged him further onto the ground where he slumped out of sheer concern, until Dezi caught the thing in a gentle headlock. Where it learned to do such a thing, he didn’t know, but he imagined it was just one of the many things the animal was trained to do. Did it ever have to tend to Gael like this, he wondered, and if so, how many times? Dezi’s fingers idly scratched at the spot between Roscoe’s ears. He always liked the little guy. 

“I’m up, I’m up. What’s wrong?” He asked the question as if he didn’t already know the answer to such a thing was him. He was the problem. He had a problem. Dezi pushed himself up, though still leaning against the wooden gazebo, a bottle rolled from beside him into the grass. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to be my lover?” he teased. From the look on Gael’s face, it was a bad time for jokes.

@gatcrbait​

“no, no, no,” elodie explained, her head shaking lightly in disbelief. in a way she should have loved it, three easy steps, forget all your problems. the thought gave her a little thrill, and the long perfected method appealed to her logical side. just salt, tequila, lime. that easy. but then she had never done a shot of tequila before, let alone bottom shelf. she pushed the shot glass back towards the other woman, a slight smile on her lips despite her efforts to stay serious. “absolutely no way am i putting that in my body.”

"OH COME ONNNNNN,” Bina whined from across the kitchen island she was still getting used to. Living with JR came with the possibility of things popping up all over the house.

Bina never drank while on the job---Except for that one time, and that other time... oh, and that other time---but after hours when she played bartender in the comfort of her own home where she could do so without pants on? You better believe she’d take a little nip of something to calm her nerves after a shift of dealing with Marais’ best and not-so-brightest. 

“It’s nothin’ worse than anything you’ve ever eaten from the deep frier at Crunchies, Deedee.” She laughed as she poured herself a shot. “Before you know it it’ll be down the hatch and you’ll be one step closer to letting loose. We’ll do it together! What do you say?” 

birdie made her way to the bar. she got held up at the shack, the boat having some difficulties all day doing tours. now was her time to wind down and get her drinks. “anything that’s going to hit me, toots.” she clicks her tongue in mockery of the nickname, shooting a finger gun and settling into the stool. “if you get me wasted in the next three minutes i’ll tip you a mighty fine tip.” she drawls.

Bina squealed once seeing Birdie sidle up to the bar. “Where were you an hour ago!” 

“I’ve had such borin’ customers all night, would have been nice to have a little excitement.” She went to work, adding all types of things to her metal shaker. “--no offense, Steve,” she was quick to add, calling down to the other end of the bar where one of her regulars looked like he was one foot in the grave and hardly paying attention. 

A quick throw over her shoulder to shake, then a smooth pour into a tall glass, and within her alotted 3 minutes (and a couple seconds, who cares), miss Birdie had a drink before her. 

“Voila! French 75, except we’re fresh outta champagne so I used a White Claw. If this doesn’t get you buzzed in one glass, you should see a doctor.”

raleigh leaned on the counter, his elbows digging into the bartop as he glanced behind the bar. “nah, no drink, i’m looking for something i think i lost here yesterday. it’s small, kind of like a wallet but with a zipper on top. has a few pictures in it. anyone turn something like that in recently?”

“Uhm... like a coin purse?” Her mind went somewhere words couldn’t follow as she watched him speak, which was usually the appropriate reaction when Raleigh was around. By her and, well, anyone, really.

She smiled once remembering that he was waiting for an answer to his question. Right. Get it together, girl. Her cheeks flushed pink. 

“Not that I recall...” she trailed off, thinking for a moment before bursting to life. “Oh! Wait, is it one of those cute lil’ ones that look like a mini cheeseburger? Someone left one’a those a couple nights ago and we’ve all been fightin’ over who gets to take it home if no one comes to claim it.”

“Tragically, no drinking on the job for me tonight, B,” Tessa replies, shaking her head in disappointment, “I could, however, use some help with this broken glass,” she clarifies, motioning towards the shattered bottle on the floor. Of course some drunk idiot had broken a glass just sheer moments before their shift had ended. 

“Just my luck, eh?” she commiserates, as she bent down to pick out some of the larger pieces, careful not to slice her fingers. “I figured the two of us together could clean this mess up, twice as fast, and then finally clock out.”

Bina threw her head back and groaned. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Typical. She should have known that the universe would find some way of keeping the clock going. 

She quickly placed a napkin beneath the glass of a drowsy barfly before kneeling down to help. “Some nights you’d think we were runnin’ a daycare,” she mumbled and swept the small shards into a dustpan. “Who was it this time? Groper-Man or The Undertipper?”

↝ and they were roomates // @gatcrbait​

Bina had been living with JR for so long she was practically an extension of the house; the sister he never had. And with that, she’s seen it all, and he the same. Though at this point it the awkwardness, stepping on eggshells, and socks on doorknobs were all a thing of the past …well at least for JR. Feet propped up on their coffee table, jeans in a hump on the floor beside him, and some old spaghetti western (because he was a stickler for the classics) playing on their tv. “Hey you’re back—” he’s words slur as he raises his sixth P.B.R. to acknowledge her presence without pulling his eyes from the screen. “Whadda’ ya think of a new island for the kitchen, oh— there’s food in the oven by the way but, I’m thinking of ripping ours up and puttin’ it on wheels,”

“Food!” she exclaimed in a chipper tone that juxtaposed against the gloomy blue glow of the television in the otherwise dark house. JR, the patron saint of overworked rommates. 

If this was back in the olden days of their first few months together, Bina would have stopped dead in her tracks at the couch potato in his skivvies. Now, she’d become so desensitized to living with anyone other than her grandparents that she plopped down in a chair beside the tv. Just in time to watch a shootout with the one-eyed Big Bad of the week.

A cut to commercial had her turn to him. “Why weels?” she finally responded. “Where would you need to take it?” 

She cared little for decorum; anyone who knew Honey Destler knew her well enough to expect nothing but a lack of manners and a set of loose lips. Exhaling loudly, she flopped down atop the barstool, head on her folded hands and glasses askew. 

“If you can figure out how to make alcohol work with coffee –” she extended one arm, slapping the inside of her elbow, “– right there. Direct line. Make it happen and I’ll worship you.”

Bina let out a laugh, sharp and from the chest. There’s no telling what it was that had her in such a good mood, but whatever it was had pure mirth falling from her lips. This was perfect for her, as she imagined Honey needed a bit of light right about then. 

“Sorry, Hon, but they turned the coffee pots off about an hour ago. Buuut...” she sang, “If you’re lookin’ for something that strong I could whip you up a Vitamin C. A little vodka, a lotta Redbull... it will wake you right up.” 

status: open @ crunchies 

The last thing he should ever do is ingest foreign things. Especially if it had anything to do with booze, but here he was anyways.. doing just that. Terrence just downed a cocktail of something in one go. None of the nuances of the drink registered, but he could feel the sharp heat that came with the liquor.

The bottom of his glass smacked against the bar top, and he huffed out a sigh. “Chug-a-lug-a-lug, ain’t the worst I had- hey, gimmie whatever they’re havin’,” Terrence told the bartender while he nodded towards the person next to him. An awfully bright grin was pulled from ear to ear when the bartender conceded, but the look dulled a smudge when he looked at the other patron. “Say.. what are you havin’ anyways? I mean, you don’t gotta tell me- kinda adds in the fun if I’m bein’ honest, but it also doesn’t hurt t’ know if you don’t mind sharin’.”

Dezi’s own wry smile, the one that first took to his face when he started paying attention to his surroundings once the game on the old tv over the bar wasn’t going his way. (Thank God he hadn’t bet this week.) It was the Chug-a-lug-a-lug that got him, though he kept himself from laughing. Last thing he needed was to get into a bar fight.

“You sure you want to do that, bud?” he asked kindly, that wry smile never leaving him. As far as he knew, the other was already three sheets towards the wind and Dezi didn’t want to be responsible for a blackout that wasn’t his own. “It ain’t no cocktail. Not sure you could handle it.”

Though she tried to ignore it, her eyes refused to keep checking the clock on the wall as it slowly counted down to 1am. She was just finishing with wiping away the stickiness on the bartop---anything to kill time---when she was flagged down. 

“What can I do for you, sugar?” she chirped and tossed the rag back to the sink behind the bar. “If it’s a drink you want, you’ll get it if I can make it in--” her gaze shifts back to the clock for a moment, then returns, “--three minutes’r less.” 

*click the links to go to their wanted connections pages. these can also be found by clicking on their muse links. catch me on discord if you’d like to pick one up

Oh SH#T! What’s that over there? Is that... No, it couldn’t be!  

Forty years old and standing 5 feet 11 inches... a whopping 180lbs... Marais’ own gator whisperer... Please welcome to the swamp, DEZI CONTRERAS!!!

{ CARLY CHAIKIN. THIRTY. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER } i was out wrestlin’ gators when i saw BINA BLOOM. you know they have been in town for HER WHOLE LIFE now? they currently work as a BARTENDER AT CRUNCHIES & PART-TIME MARIJUANA GROWER. i love having them around, they’re  GOOD-HUMORED & EMPATHETIC , but sometimes they can be QUICK-TEMPERED & SARDONIC . well, hope to see them ‘round more!

howdy, it’s possum! here is my little sunflower of a gal. for having a wonky moral compass she is very sweet and will definitely smoke you out in exchange for some good company. she’s a lifer in marais, so feel free to assume friendships if you’ve been in town for a while!!!