inadaptado;

⊹     ⊹     ⊹    

Cris’s words settle against the nights air and descend into silence. It was a truth Nolan knew too well- to attract pain. To beg for it, with blood in your mouth and split skinned knuckles aching for more. Bruises would feel like the universe, speckled and swelling. And the searing of pain, like stars against your skin. An ever burning inferno. 

The man’s eyes dark on Cris, a stare nothing more than the same hungry reflection. The same understanding. “Then why fight like you want to win?” Curiosity, for the first time in a while finding its way into his words. 

“You shouldn’t go around worryin’ about it, not unless you’re stupid enough to start it.”

-

   The question was a good one-- but it was an easy one for him to answer. “If all I wanted was pain there would be much more straightforward ways to feel it.” He inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to settle heavily in his chest. When he spoke again, he released the smoke into the wind. “I fight because winning is even better than the pain.”

          eyes    glance    towards    him    at    the    slight    reaction    to    her    actions    ,    but    claudia    continues    to    treat    the    wound    carefully.    her    movements    are    slow    ,    almost    too    still    and    steady    as    an    eyebrow    lifted    at    the    other’s    explanation.        “    so    …    you    instigated.    ”        there’s    a    small    smile    that    accompanies    the    confirmation    ,    towel    removed    now    as    claudia    continued    to    clean    the    blood    off    of    his    arm.        “    oh    ,    trust    me    ,    i    know    all    about    that.    people    are    so    sensitive    ,    aren’t    they    ?    ”

-

    Cris looked down at her hands as she treated his wound, his shoulders relaxing slightly as she took care of it. Suddenly, he let out a sound that almost sounded like shocked laughter. “Hey now... Who the hell said I instigated? He was the one making people uncomfortable in the first place.” He took in a deep breath. “Far too sensitive.”

-

      ——EYES LIFTED FROM his stock list to peer at the customer … even luna gazed at him with her one large, golden orb. he recognized him from the hellhounds … while rider mostly dealt with arden directly he made an appoint to at least know the other members BY FACE. they were welcome here, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d run favors for a member. “ i do, yeah. ” the request had him lifting a finger — one moment — and briefly rider disappeared into the back room. when he returned it was with a small black book, well-written in and old enough that the pages he flipped through had begun to yellow a bit.

      “ yeah, i can get it. take about four days? ” returning to his perch he reached for a pen, underlining a number once he reached one ( batted away by luna at some point, almost ready to tip onto the floor before he rescued it ). “ how much do you need? ”

-

    Cris allowed his eyes to wander about while the man moved-- trying to not appear as awkward as he was feeling. He hadn’t asked for many things, even after all his years in this town-- but he’d found himself wanting something to remind him of his past and the things he struggled with. It was a strange desire, one he wasn’t sure to think about.

   When the man spoke, his eyes snapped back to his face. “Yeah... yeah-- that’s just fine.” He took in a deep breath. “Um not much... Maybe like... an ounce?”

.

     “ Then perhaps you could help improve mine. ” The silver tube slipped back into her pocket, perfectly in its resting place as she found hers settled beside him. “ When’s the next show here? I was hoping to enjoy a night of fun but it looks like my timing is off. ” Watching others take out their anger and living through the rage by proxy was a favorite pastime, especially when work was slow or unsatisfying. While Ophelia was sure her read on him wasn’t off, she suspected he understood the reference and likely knew the answer.

      “ Or maybe if you have another idea of fun available at this hour? ” 

-

   Cris nodded with her, agreeing that her timing had been off. “Check back next Saturday.” He told her. It was usually a night that people could make and usually at the best vibe. At her next statement though, he turned to look more directly at the woman.

   “I’m sure I could come up with something plenty fun for the both of us.”

—

He’d left his jacket there the other night: a hoodie of his father’s that he’d kept close since he was eleven. Fabric worn with age, Graham certain that it was older than him, but a means of comfort he found and kept close, even despite the Arizona heat. The knowledge that someone could have picked it up, or simply discarded it, was not lost on him, but he attempted to keep those worries at bay, hoping that maybe Nolan had noticed and stashed it in a lost and found or behind the front counter.

As he made his way to the front of the gym, he didn’t miss Cris’ looming figure, digging around his pockets and grumbling to himself. He was hoping maybe the other man wouldn’t have noticed him, simply let him walk by, but right when he thought he was in the clear, Cris turned on him, black eye leading the way. “Oh, uh…” His first instinct was to say no, apologize and keep moving, but his hands searched his own pockets anyways, and in turn produced a small zip lighter from the back of his jeans. Smoking wasn’t a habit Graham was proud of–cigarettes or other–but they helped ease the part of him on the inside that was always moving, clawing at him. “Honestly, keep it.” He had a million others at home, he was sure. 

-

    If there was one thing Cris got bothered by; it was not having a good read on someone. He’d know Graham when he was still a teenager, but somehow he could never quite grasp his train of thought like the way he did with Arden. He wondered where the disconnect came from.

    The man raised an eyebrow as he searched his pockets, pleased when he caught sight of the lighter. “I knew I could count on you.” He responded as he reached out to take the lighter. But he still furrowed his brow, “You ain’t got to be so jumpy, kid. At least not around me.”

caroline had tried smoking once when she was fifteen and she coughed so hard, she thought she’d lose a lung. never again. he would have a better luck asking for a spatula than a lighter. she watched as the other moved the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket and tilted her head ever so lightly to the side. “I can see the appeal of a good fight, but the pain and the bruises don’t seem worth it.”

-

   Cris might have told her to piss off, but she hadn’t been rude and seemed to be somewhat interested in what he had to say. He turned his head to her before suddenly smiling largely, slightly amused by what she was saying, “Pain and bruises are the show of a good fight-- and beyond that, pain is both a reminder and a distraction. Pain is intoxicating when you let it be.”

 ⊹     ⊹     ⊹    

Standing out under the night stars, his back pressed against the wall watching cigarette smoke wafting into the air, was a scenario all too familiar. Repeating in the man’s life time and time again. From a child listening to his grandpa’s lecture with blood dripping down his nose, to those late nights stood with his fighters, tendrils of smoke reaching to the lights above as they share stories between. “Nothing a good pour can’t fix.”

Looking back to Cris, the lightest attempt of a joke finds its way to Nolan’s lips. “If a black eye’s all it takes to bring you back, I’ll be sure to mind that next time.”

-

   The man wasn’t wrong. A good pour would fix him right up; but there was a part of him that just wanted to sit in his shame for a moment. To remind him why he fought as damn hard as he did. “Sometimes I like to feel the pain-- not chase it away.” He said then, eyes turning to look more fully at Nolan.

   Then he snorted, smoke billowing into the air in a gust. “Don’t take that as an invitation to go around punching me, buttercup.”

Heels echoing off the alley walls, Maggie never felt the need to sneak around, hiding in the shadows was a thing of her past. But it was always wise to be cautious, especially when around the crowbar and the people it tended to draw in. The bag of supplies draped over her shoulder, she was intending to go right on in and set up for the night, possibly stop by and annoy the owner of the crowbar. But seeing Cris out front she changed her course.

“Don’t you know that stuff can kill you.” A slight chuckle shook her shoulders, not simply because it was a cliché answer, but because almost everything in this town could kill .Digging into her bag, she pulled out a small pack, snapping it and giving it a quick shake before tossing it at him. “That black eye will turn real nasty real quick.”

-

    Eyes snapped over to Maggie and he raised an eyebrow at her. “If I live long enough to die from the smoke-- I’ll be sure to apologize for not listening to you.” He responded easily enough.

   In the next moment, he was catching the pack that was passed to him, “Maybe I want it to get nasty-- makes me look badass.” He responded before he was placing the pack to his eye and hissing slightly at the pain.

caroline never spent a whole lot of time away from the diner these days, but some errands just had to be done by her and so she found herself roaming the town, bags piling in her arms. there were only a few more stops before she returned to the diner when she heard someone’s voice, making her life her head from the to-do list she had been holding. “huh? oh, uh–no, I don’t–” she paused, eyebrow raising as she noticed the purple-ish color around his eye. “are you okay? that looks like it hurts.”  

-

    It wasn’t that he exactly expected the stranger to be carrying a lighter around; but he still found himself being slightly disappointed that she didn’t have one. “Alright--” He cleared his throat and instead tucked his cigarettes back into his pocket. There wasn’t exactly a point in having them out if he wasn’t going to be able to smoke one. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah-- I’m good. Just a training mishap. Happens from time to time.”

  ⊹     ⊹     ⊹    

Nolan’s gaze is careful on Cris, waiting patiently to see the other’s reaction tonight. But with the other’s reply eased in the nights air, breathed through a hazed smoke that wafts to the lights above them, Nolan rests his back to the wall. “Anything you need to talk about?” Nothing ever quite sounded sympathetic leaving the his mouth. What else was to be expected from a man who spent his whole life with a shadow clawing at his back, only ever finding the right words as warnings. Threats. 

But tonight, he meant the sincerity that lingered just beneath the surface. 

-

   Cris hummed slightly in thought when the man asked if he needed to talk about anything. “Nah-- I don’t think it’s of anything of real importance.” It was Hellhound business, the lack of challenge at the gym, feeling stagnant in his life. There were all things that Nolan didn’t really need to know about. It was his business after all.

    “Just gotta shake it. The punch to the eye did help remind me that I need to always keep on my toes.”

   ⊹     ⊹     ⊹    

“If you weren’t so cocky you wouldn’ta gotten it, don’t make that my problem.” There’s a shortness to Nolan’s tone, one that’s normally there most days. The lingering promise of his sharp threats. A man with his war against the world written all over him, in the scars that line his weathered features, and crawl across where his hands have been damaged time and time again. Just under his long sleeves and scattering across his body rest the reminders of bullet shells from mistakes in the past, and those scars left in long lines where his temper’s gotten him in trouble time and time again.

“If it takes a black eye to take you down a notches it’s what you deserve. And I hope it does just that. What the fuck happened tonight? You’re a better fighter than that.”

-

   Cris narrowed his eyes as he watched Nolan, choosing instead to take a deep inhale of smoke into his lungs before speaking. He knew better than to open his mouth too quickly and end up with a second black eye to match the first. He tapped his cigarette off to the side and looked at Nolan then.

    ⊹     ⊹     ⊹    

There’s a denseness to the night’s air, something constantly heavy and clinging with heat. But at least it was a step better to the sweaty heat that gathers inside the gym, no matter how many fans circulate the air or windows they leave open. It always feel stale. Despite not training himself, there’s still a layer of shine on Nolan’s forehead as he reaches into his pocket and passes a lighter across to Cris. 

“I think you’re done training for the night,” Not that it was Nolan’s place to make decisions like that. He might have been Cris’ trainer, and the owner of the Crowbar, and Nolan had tendencies to be somewhat direct- it didn’t make it anymore his call. “You looked like an overexcited teenager who learnt about blood, sex and violence for the first time.” Taking a moment to gesture to the other’s blackening eye, “I hope that hurt.”

-

   The werewolf took the lighter with a soft grunt of appreciation. A cigarette was retrieved from the half empty pack and placed between his lips. If anything, the smoke would help to level out his thoughts and calm himself down for the evening.

   At the man’s remark, he huffed out a breath that could have been in irritation. “Yeah. I’m done.” He confirmed the man’s thoughts. Even if he felt like going against Nolan, he wasn’t sure it was all that good to go back in there after that. He snorted at the man’s comment, “You could at least pretend you didn’t want me to get hit.”

.

          claudia    does    her    best    to    guide    him    towards    the    couch    and    sit    him    down    ,    hands    eventually    removing    the    towel    from    the    wound    with    so    much    as    a    glance    towards    the    other.        “     well    ,    there’s    no    glass    in    it.    that’s    a    good    sign.     ”        there’s    a    sigh    ,    then    the    vampire    is    standing    up    again    to    retrieve    a    first    aid    kit    from    one    of    the    many    stacked    in    the    corner    ––    at    least    she    was    prepared.        “     you    don’t    know    why    they    tried    to    fight    you    ?     ”

-

   Cris bit back a hiss as she removed the towel, the cool air meeting the open wound causing muscles to clench just slightly. “Lucky me.” He remarked with a soft snort. He knew it would heal before anyone asked any questions and for that he was glad, “Well... I might have called one of them out for being an annoying shit in the bar and disturbing the peace-- Honestly, it’s his own fault he got so offended.”

.

      “ Sure.” Short and sweet, well to the point as she back peddled and began fishing into her pockets. The silver tube was old fashioned and outdated, and its function was purely for convenience or the happenstance of present company needing it. Still, there was something that pulled at sentimental strings when lit the wick and proffered the flame to the other.

      “ Habit or that kind of day? ” Of course, she had hoped to indulge in her own vices and witness a show with flying teeth dyed in crimson. After being out of town for a week or so, her schedule with normal comings and goings were off, and her sake out of luck for such indulgence.

-

   Cris leaned forward so that he could light the cigarette he had pulled free from his pack. He took a deep inhale before turning and letting the smoke push out into the air. It was the burn of smoke and the rush of nicotine that helped settle his thoughts down.

   “I think it’s probably both.” He remarked. He usually had a smoke after he was finished training for the day, but sometimes it hit just a little bit harder than other days. “Thank you for the light.” He inclined his head. “You might have saved my mood for the night.”

-------------

   Cris knew the black eye he was currently sporting when faded sooner rather than later-- but he still didn’t like the feel of the puffy skin. Or maybe it was just the fact that the person he was training with shouldn’t have gotten a shot like that in. He’d gotten too comfortable; too cocky. It made his mind spin as he reminded himself over and over that you always had to be on your toes.

    The man was fishing around in his pockets for a lighter, grumbling in irritation as he realized the lighter wasn’t anywhere to be found. He tapped his pack of Camel Turkish Royals on his hand before turning to a person that seemed to be walking by. “You don’t happen to have a light on ya, do you? I can’t find mine.”

          claudia’s    quick    to    retrieve    a    towel    from    the    nearest    closet    ,    eyes    glancing    back    towards    cristobel    to    make    sure    he    wasn’t    disobeying    her    immediate    demands.    if    she    was    going    to    pay    for    an    expensive    house    ,    she    didn’t    want    the    extra    hassle    of    paying    to    get    blood    out    of    her    brand    new    carpets.        “     thank    you.     ”        vampire    mutters    absently    ,    extending    the    towel    towards    the    other    before    wrapping    it    gently    around    his    forearm.        “     okay    ,    now    you    can    come    in.    jesus    ,    what    did    you    do    ?     ”

    -- If Cris could say anything, he knew better than to piss off the person who was going to possibly poking at your injuries later. He grunted as she wrapped the towel around his arm. “Technically... I didn’t do shit--” He remarked with a shake of his head. “The glass bottle someone drunkenly decided to fight me with though? That’s a different story.”