james-ryan

Eleonora may have been running a little late to her meeting with JR, but it was not without good reason. She had to print out some reference pictures of sets and whatnot from other Footloose productions, ‘cause she’d forgotten to do that until she was pulling out of the driveway to leave. She was barely running late, anyhow — like, fifteen minutes, tops. They’d been working together since she got here, just about, and her chronic lateness was nothing new… and, you know, he was still working with her, so, it was working out so far.

JR really was a saint, in her humble opinion — he kinda had to be to work with her in spring musical season!

However many minutes later, Eleonora finally pulled into the diner’s parking lot. She wasted no time in hopping out of the car and trotted up to and into the building as fast as her little legs and heels would allow without, like, dying. It didn’t take her long to spot JR, and she then slid into the seat opposite his, setting her handbag down beside her. A manila folder, that looked like it contained more than a few papers, poked out of it. 

“So, so sorry I’m late…,” Eleonora said sheepishly, still somehow appearing chipper. She pulled out the folder and slapped it down on the table, proceeding to drum her fingers on it, “… but I did come prepared.”

For as long as he knew Eleonora, he knew of her tardiness— though JR wasn’t one to speak, appearing fashionably late for most things in his life. He paid the passing minutes no attention as he drowned crunchy potato bits in a mountain of ketchup and dumped enough sugar in his coffee to power a small child for three days.

He looks up in midst of his feast as the diner door chimes. She was hard to miss, always dressed to the nines. She had this distinctly hot mom look about her (I believe there is a technical term for that) and he often wondered if she taught any girls named Stacy or if that was just a fantasy shared between him and the fountain’s of Wayne.

“Really? Could’ve sworn I heard a few people say otherwise. Like you said though, to each their own.” All of it was said with a complete deadpan and a voice flatter than busted tire. Yet it only lasted for another moment before the stoicism eased up into something more relaxed - humored even.

The thump of Roscoe’s tail thwacked against his leg, and he gave the okay for the dog to greet JR. “Just me and my lonesome, though- you know, the usual.”

For a moment JR believes he’s experiencing his last few breaths on earth while his joke is met with the most unresponsive face he’s ever seen. He smiles uneasily hoping it’ll appease his murderer. Though the expression quickly dissipates, and JR is glad he won’t be featured on the investigation discovery channel anytime soon. 

status: open @ lover’s lane

Lover’s Lane - an infamous pathway that the enamored trek; arm in arm or hand in hand. Not hand in pocket like him. Not as aimless or distant as he had ambled down the loose dirt and gravel. 

Dark eyes stared ahead but he didn’t really see anything. He didn’t feel the need to when his subconscious knew what to avoid so his walk wouldn’t be interrupted. Don’t walk into any obstructions, don’t get his foot hooked underneath a sprawling root, don’t think about how lonely he had been feeling for the past week or so. Definitely don’t think too hard about the murky waters that stretched beyond the structure at the end; the cement gazebo as he liked to call it. 

So he cast his gaze upwards once he stopped at the edge of cement. Had his lips pulled into a set frown as he took in his surroundings for the first time upon arrival. Roscoe sat panting by his side; flank pressed against the left side of his shin in reassurance. The subtle shift of waves and ripples called to him, but he wouldn’t heed it. He couldn’t. 

A slight shift of weight and he knew they had company. Both ears perked, the Belgian Malinois watched an approaching figure. Gael spared the other a glance as the frown softened some; just by a hair. “No hot date?”

Smoking, a bad habit he vowed to never pick up years ago. Though vows to himself are often left broken. It was a good time waster, especially for a guy who had plenty of time to waste. Though he much preferred to partake in the habit in secluded areas. Though where his truck stops is the furthest thing from secluded, lover’s lane. Though it’d be no one he’d know, there’s a good chance he’d run into Romeo and Juliette who decided today is the day they wanted to play hooky.

> @hcpkins·  /  at the docks

     it’s already been a few drinks and she’s feeling the world start to spin. she told jr she could do just about anything drunk that she can do sober. she could tell he didn’t believe her, so she dragged him out of crunchies out further on the bayou. her arms wrapped around one of his, keeping her feet straight. “you haven’t listen to me.” she smirks, another hand patting his chest. “you’ve never been in the boat with me before, i’m so good you’re not going to believe it.” 

{ GARRETT HEDLUND. THIRTY-FIVE. CIS-MALE. HE/HIM } i was out wrestlin’ gators when i saw JAMES-RYAN HOPKINS. you know they have been in town for THIRTY YEARS now? they current work as a/n CARPENTER/FARMER. i love having them around, they're COURAGEOUS & HARDWORKING, but sometimes they can be CHILDISH & ABRASIVE. well, hope to see them ‘round more!

post malone esque deadbeat, who’s carpentry skills are second best to jesus, and occasional farm hand on his parent’s ranch on the outskirts of town. He’s kinda like the town’s on call Bob the builder.