A R G E N T A T E.

also me: edgy thot bring new character yes??

The chill in the air held no affection whatsoever, only serving to secrete into her bones and make her feel worn-down, wishing the sweatshirt she was wearing under her fur coat did more to shield her from the cold. Her shift at the restaurant had been long and grueling today, and she still had to go back in after this short break to get back to work, an extra-long shift she wasn’t particularly looking forward to. There was no one she could pass her duties on to for the day– no one that was trained enough in what she did, to be specific, so it was up to her to pick up the slack and she had arrived early to take a head-count of all the supplies and decide whether they needed to order anything extra. With the winter season, it was difficult to order in produce that was good enough to use at the restaurant. Safe to say, the redhead was running on fumes and ready to go home and hit the hay, already emotionally drained from earlier in the week. Her typical cheerful front she put on for customers was traded for her stoic, unemotional pose at the corner of the building while she lit up a cigarette and propped one leg against the wall while she smoked, observing the people passing by. This was the best place she could find to smoke a couple blocks from the restaurant, some distance between her and the passerby to prevent anyone from having to breathe in her second-hand smoke, leaning her head back against the wall.

A slew of apologies drew her from her daydreaming stupor, momentarily wondering if she had actually dozed off instead. It wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. Anabelle recognized the voice immediately, pegging it down as one of the homeless folk she invited into the restaurant when she was given the opportunity and paid for their free meal, particularly in the winter where it was frigid out and it gave them a cozy escape. Her recognition skills were– with the exception of those from the life she left behind– impeccable, thanks to years of honing and dedication to learning how to track wildlife in the woods and discern different kinds. Memorization skills were needed in the life she had taken up and it was helpful in the city where one could often venture forth for years and never see the same face twice, particularly in the crowds of people that were always coming and going. Laughing when he continued to apologize, she put out her cigarette on the brick wall, saying, “Joel, don’t scurry off, it’s just me. Don’t recognize this pretty face with the new hair color?” Winking at him, she pushed herself away from the wall, straightening her posture and reaching out a hand to grab his arm. The move was somewhat bold, taken with tender precaution in knowing his veteran status, the way one would gently touch a lover because the only other veteran she had truthfully ever known was the one she would never get to see again. What a strange and unhappy coincidence. “I actually have to get back to my shift, I’m working at Giovanni’s today… Would you like some soup? There’s a special on the house today and I fear we’ve made too much. You would be doing me a favor so we don’t have to throw it out.”

the request that he didn’t scurry off was bizarre and the small voice in joel’s head told him to disregard it and run and hide as soon as he could. it was a fight of manners in the end and he took a deep breath, that same insecurity and fear dulling her familiar voice. he was about to turn and leave until he felt the touch on his arm and a litany of warning signs went off in his head. some time ago he would have drawn upon his training and decked the person and put them down, but that aggression had vanished, giving way to panic. the sound that reverberated from his throat was a swallowed yelp and his throat hurt from the air that got stuck there. even if the brief touch was padded by the thickness of his jacket, his body still didn’t appreciate it and tensed up, his fingers drawing into a fish as he clenched them. relaxing, tightening, relaxing. he blinked away the sudden blankness that took over his features and turned to look at anabelle. the hood of his jacket did obscure some of her face, but he knew that voice and he logically knows she wasn’t a bad person. not a cop, not someone out to get him, not one of his old friends. 

his arm stays tense, as does his whole body, and he blames it on the cold and his mental fragility, but he still knows how to fake his discomfort while fighting it off all the same. he takes a breath again, shakes himself out of the terror and smiles at her with timid purity, one more apology falling from his lips before he brushes over his jacket with his free hand to distract it from the obsessive relax, clench, nails dug into his palm, relax. “ i didn’t recognize you, ” his voice cracks in the midst of it and he makes a face at the weakness behind it. “ sorry, i- i was just surprised. ” it was an understatement and to hide the fear lingering in his eyes, joel checks over her and gets stuck on her hair. it’s a new look, and maybe that was the main reason he refused to know who she was. he doesn’t comment on it, feeling like the window to compliment it already shut a while ago while he fought himself. he takes a moment to collect his thoughts and is about to open his mouth when her offer reaches his ears and his jaws snap shut. his stomach gives him a grumble, coaxing him towards accepting the offer even if he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. “ that’s- wow. no need to throw it out, of course, i can- ” he pauses and takes a look at some of the other homeless that he knows by now, walking around. “ i’m sure there are others that need it more, you know? i had a bit of old chipotle last night so i can go for two days, but if you’re gonna throw it out, maybe- ” he wants to hit his head against the brick wall for being a rambler, fighting against the very real need for food. “ i could eat, yeah, not gonna lie. ” it’s the painful truth, with a defeated tone lilting the words and he runs a hand over his face. the roughness of his overgrown beard scratches his hand and he rubs it against his thigh to get rid of the itch that remains. “ rambling, i’m sorry. you sure about this? wouldn’t want to be a burden. ”

Quick, storm coming, God save the Queen. Talking to himself under hushed breaths was the only way he could seem to make anything stick in his muddled, foggy brain today. Orion had forced himself out the door to run a few errands, figuring that he could stop over and spend some time with Micah while he was– frankly– out of the apartment, rather than retreating into his lair. Something was off about him today, he wasn’t entirely gravitated with the rest of the world. Every brush with another person made him tense up with anxiety, never one for physical touch with another unless he’s comfortable with intimacy with them, and on days like this, it’s unbearably disconcerting. Every voice he heard in his ear, he had to turn his head to ensure that the person that just passed him by was actually talking, and if they were, it was a relief that it wasn’t all in his head. Quick, storm coming was his way of reminding himself bad weather’s coming, get home early today or find a ride home. Don’t walk home in the dark. The city is different from Manchester, less malicious vibes in the nightfall. Rather, it was filled with vibrance and energy of all the people heading out for a night on the town, yet tension still followed him around like the knife to his throat. 

Right now, it was still daylight, just frigid with the painful windchill, keeping his head low while he waded through the crowds of people walking this way and that, to work and from shops and out to lunch. It was only when the prickling paranoia that someone’s following him that he had to stop on his quest, forcing himself to come to a halt around the corner, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes closed, willing himself to relax. Everything was fine. Running his tongue across his scarred lower lip and letting out a slow, shaky exhale, Orion opened his eyes, glad that the weather was cold enough that he had to wear a coat, unwilling to face the possibility of seeing bugs crawling on his skin, a common enough symptom of his poor days. The thought made his skin crawl regardless, lifting a hand to brush at his arm, practically jumping out of his skin when a voice beside him spoke up, green eyes going wide. Like an owl with ruffled feathers, his head turned to view the man beside him, trying to process what he had said to begin with while the man started to scramble to collect his belongings. “No, wait, you don’t have to– don’t get up, I was not fussed having you there,” he reassured quietly, unsure if it could be heard with his voice cracking halfway through due to a gust of wind. Now that he had a good look at his face, he looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place him. If he can’t place him, is he real? The way he patted his pocket somehow clicked it into place, though, something about the gesture lighting up in his occipital lobe. “You are… the guy from the diner, right? Am I mistaken?”

recognizing people wasn’t a strong suit for joel anymore, and most of the faces he met were just a blur and soon forgotten as random occurrences in his life. maybe it was a part of his own mind blocking out the memories of meetings, but he didn’t have enough will to dwell on it, but rolls with the metaphorical punches. even now he takes a long look at the weak-voices man and collects the last of his things, and settles the strap over his shoulder higher up. when the diner is mentioned, his stomach cramps as a twisted way of confirming their meeting in the past and joel pieces the man together. back when he had made enough money to treat himself, without a care of what the coming months would bring with their freezing temperatures and sleepless nights. he takes a moment to realize, but as soon as he places the situation, his eyes widen and he inhales a short breath and blurts out; “ you’re the philosopher. ” he feels like his brain finally catches up and the realization sounds more like an accusation than a question. he takes a step back, his grimy boots scraping the sidewalk as he does and he lifts his free hand in defense, the other gripping the cardboard tighter. the breeze bites at his exposed knuckles but he fights through the shiver that wracks his body and offers an apologetic smile.

 “ that came out wrong, i mean yeah, i was at the diner. it’s been a long time since that, i’m sorry i didn’t recognize you. ” he cringes at his own stuttering and casts his perpetually embarrassed eyes to the gravel littering the sidewalk as he catches his breath, fends off the panic and rolls his shoulders as subtly as he can. they crack from the movement, muscles shifting,coming back online from the long idling and joel has to bite his cheek at the sensation. “ i didn’t think i would see you again. how is the writing coming along? ” it’s a feeble offer of small talk and joel smiles tightly, subconsciously curling into his jacket to hide from the situation he doesn’t know exactly how to handle. the guy doesn’t look too good either, something about the eyes told him fear, but who was he to judge. he looked like a deer in headlights ninety percent of the time, but even so his fatherly instincts do seem to kick in and he wants to ask if something’s the matter. it’s intrusive and inwardly joel shakes his head, but his brows fall into a worrisome frown on their own accord nonetheless.

Safe to say Maxim isnt a social person. When he wants to talk to people he will do so but only under very imperative state of affairs and even then the CEO would rather have his lackeys do the work. So he was quite surprised to find himself propotioned against the alleyway and staring at some homeless men while wondering if he should count his luck as the cofounder and owner of a colossal empire. His mind often wandered into the what could have been realities. Once upon a time he used to live under the dirt and bathed in sweat but he managed to climb his way ontop. He wondered what would have happened if he had given up back then and he was glad he didn’t. He would have otherwise found himself here amongst these people.

He placed his brown cigar between his mouth. The night was young but he felt like coming up late to his appointments. He was the owner afterall and he had everything wrapped under his fingers so he didn’t have to worry about not being there exactly on time. Taking the last puff he then turned when the man spoke. He raised his eyebrow then. His expression cold and distant but not bothered. “Frankly it’s fine. You look like you could use warmth though.” He said. He pulled his pack of cigars and offered one to him. “And tense. Here. Few puffs should help ya. Or you can take the whole pack if you want.” 

the sudden scent of smoke has joel sniffing once before he rubs his nose. it’s been years since he last smoked and is lungs do remember the feeling, and nicotine still has an effect on him. the man seems disinterested in him, and it’s a relief when he doesn’t start with the insults right away. it was always  possibility but joel doesn’t dwell on it, bites back anxiety when the thoughts resurface. he does however chuckle at the claim that he looks like he could use warmth. a comment that gets joel to pull his sleeves further down over his hand and withdrawing into the thickness of his parka. he throws a glance at the cigarettes and shakes his head as politely as he can, but still checks the cigars. “ ah, thank you, but i can’t afford getting addicted to smoking again. ” although he remembers how he used to smoke a pack a day to keep his anxiety at bay, living on the streets didn’t allow for such luxury and he tears his eyes away from the offered cigarettes. “ thanks for the offer though, i’m sure you have better use for them. there are some others like me that could use a smoke though, if your generosity reaches that far. ” he peeks out of his jacket for long enough to offer the man a smile, nothing demanding but still grateful for the offer. if he had been younger, or recently evicted, he would have jumped at the offer but now he gestures towards two young men on the opposite side of the road. “ those two for example. i’m not asking that you do extend your offer to them, just a suggestion since i can’t accept. i’m sorry, am i wasting your time? i’m sure you have better places to be. ”

It’s the first time in weeks that Maya doesn’t feel the chill of the winter weather. Mother Nature has decided to be kinder towards the inhabitants of the city, her inckuded and for once, Maya doesn’t feel like a crazy person, bundled up beyond recognition. This doesn’t automatically mean she can forego all layers but at the very least, she’s not wearing many. Maya clutches the collar of her dark green blazer, tugging the fabric closer when a gust of wind brushes past her. She’s thankful for the warm cup of coffee she has on hand, sipping it seconds later only to stop when she spots a familiar face. Maya tilts her head, not sure if she’s seeing things correctly but when the evidence is too overwhelming, she’s instinctually moving forward. “Joel, is that you?” Of course it is, Maya’s always been great with faces but it didn’t hurt to ask. In case, he wanted to deny the claim due to pride.

it’s always startling when joel hears his name and a question about it being truly him. severing all connections to his old friends brings out a paranoia that they’d find him again and he tenses at her question and tightens his fingers around the sign, the tattered cardboard tearing under his fingertips. he eyes her over once and offers a tense smile. he remembers her, from some time ago, even if his memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. “ that’s me. ” he replies and lets the stranger he had avoided push past him. “ you, uh... ” he pauses and avoids her eyes and shoulders his duffel bag strap further up. “ i can’t remember your name, i’m sorry, my memory’s a bit... ” he offers a chuckle and taps on his temple. it was the party, wasn’t it? or was it something else? “ i’m sorry. can i- um, can i help you? everything alright? ” it’s an automatic question and he chuckles, making way to another pedestrian that weaves past him with a sneer, but he tries to ignore them and focus on the woman instead, his mind questioning her motives already. why would she even remember him? did he owe her something? christ it was stressful. 

with new years (thankfully) over, joel manages to start poking his  head out of hiding. like a fox from his den, really, when he appears on the streets for seconds before rushing back into hiding. his body is still high-strung from the ordeal of fireworks and his mind hasn’t released its flight or fight mode. his body aches, and he fights off his panic by forcefully scratching the back of his hand until it’s streaked red from irritation. he still sits on the street, with his duffel bag and cardboard sign even if he wants to run run run. tight smile, pause in the scratching, wiping off the blood, gloves back on. he hugs himself tightly and forces a smile, the hunger that ravages his stomach more than enough of a reason to endure the pitiful, scornful looks he gets from those better off. why don’t you get a job, and thank you for your service is all that accompanies his restless rest on the cold sidewalk. there was a time when the thanks warmed his heart and pushed out the cold, but it wasn’t the case anymore. he thanks them halfheartedly, ignores the ones goading and taunting him. 

we all die from war, some are hit and lost right away. some come home and hide behind closed doors,

“Have you seen a wallet lying around here?” Eudora asked. She was wrapped tight in her big bundle of sweater with her hood over her face just trying to hide herself from the public. Being a relatively well known movie actress had its perks but in times like these she just wanted to find her possibly lost item in peace. “I may have lost mine..” She murmured, patting her pockets. 

the flinch at the voice is involuntary and joel fumbles with the empty bottle in his hands. the plastic crackles under his tightened grip when he catches it and throws a surprised look at the girl. instinctively he wants to point at himself as to ask if she was speaking to him and he looks around for anyone else who might’ve been the recipient of the question. “ me? ” he asks and still does the subtle poke against his chest with a baffled look on his face. the vice grip on the bottle eases and he is quick to shove it in his pocket with some difficulty. “ i haven’t seen-- ” he knits his brows and rubs his hands together, eyes cast to the ground beneath his feet. he hadn’t seen a wallet, but he had a guilty nagging in his chest that someone else on the street had picked it up and kept it. “ i haven’t seen it, sorry. but i know some people who might know something, ” he offers a tight smile, already seeing the scowls he would get for bringing an upstanding citizen to get her possessions back, from people who ‘needed it more’. “ they know all kinds of things. might’ve picked up your wallet too. i’m sorry for them, don’t judge them for that. i’ll still bring you to them if you want? important things, those wallets. ” it’s a nervous chuckle and the hands that were occupied with one another rub against his thighs before he shoves them, too, in his pockets and pulls the jacket tightly around himself. “ where do you think you lost it? ”

muse: hella

look who's back: notifications incoming

He felt better once the jacket and tank were off. The nausea lurking in his stomach was making him sweat, despite the fact that it wasn’t that warm in the lobby. He felt a little more free, a little more at home, like maybe he could make that last push and reach his apartment. “You’re a good guy.” Griffin sighed as Joel guided him to the elevator. “And smart….” The lights and mirrors in the elevator made him dizzy again and the blonde shut his eyes. He didn’t like the way his stomach flipped when the elevator reached the second floor, but he pushed through it. When Joel helped him out of the elevator, Griffin’s grip on the tank top tightened. There was something nurturing about Joel. He could see it in the small touches and reminders. It was honestly unexpected. But without the man’s generosity, Griffin was now sure that he would’ve ended up on a sidewalk somewhere, sick and frozen. He owed Joel for that. 

“Uh, just down here.” Griffin murmured. His voice was quieter as he tried to keep his nausea under control. He walked the short way from the elevator to his door on his own, hand trailing along the wall. He unlocked the door and breathed a sigh of relief at having finally reached a safe place. “Come on.” He urged Joel, gesturing for the man to come inside as his hand hit the light switch on the wall. It was a large apartment, far larger than it appeared from the outside. It was clear that the apartment was designed for a large family. It was open concept and seemed to stretch on for the majority of this corner of the apartment building. Once Griffin got inside the apartment he dropped the tank top and his keys to the ground and he stumbled over to the couch, plopping down onto it with a sigh. He lay there for a moment on his back, breathing carefully and trying to keep the sickness at bay. He opened his eyes again and craned his neck up so that he could see Joel.  “Come on, man. Make yourself at home.” He urged, hoping Joel wouldn’t back out of their deal now. “There’s uh… the uh…” Fuck, words were hard. He was so tired. “Take out menus on the fridge. Call whichever one you want. All you gotta say is put it on my tab. Get whatever you want.” Griffin had accounts at all his favorite take out places and they all knew him by name. They wouldn’t give Joel any problem. “Oh, and hey…” Griffin’s voice piped up once more, softly. “Can you get me some water? …I’m sorry.” He knew he could stop himself from being sick if he got something else in his stomach. 

a comment about how he was a good guy made joel’s stomach turn. right, the kid didn’t know what joel used to be before he because a resident homeless guy. he doesn’t respond in any way, but a tight smile appears on his lips as he guides the drunken man to his door. he keeps a close eye on the tumbles but keeps his distance when the key finds the lock on the door. it felt like peeping, like he could just reach over and snatch the keys and break in if he was any closer- intrusive thoughts he didn’t care to think about. they faded to the back of his skull when the door opened and the warmth of the apartment became a clear contrast to the slight chillier temperatures of the hall. the clink of the keys on the floor draws joel’s focus to them and he lags behind only to follow once griffin flops down on the couch. he reaches down and picks up the keys, brings them to the coffee table along with the tank that was discarded in the process. it’s folded and placed on the back of the couch before joel allows himself to look around. the apartment is grand, bigger than the home he shared with his wife and kids, and even bigger than the ratty apartment he called his home from two years. “ nice place. ” he mentions, silent under his breath. hands find their place in his pockets as he picks out details in the house. small decorations. photos. paintings. it makes him think of his own home, the one where his wife still lives. wonder if she still has photos of him on the dresser in the living room. probably not.

he pulls his hands closer together inside his pockets, further cocooning himself in a safe blanket that is his jacket. he turns his head to griffin when he speaks and nods at the instructions. it could be a good moment to mention that he doesn’t own a phone, but he navigates towards the kitchen all the while he takes in the decorum, smiling at some of the paintings he recognizes from his golden days. he stops short and listens to the soft request and smiles, almost chuckling. “ sure thing. no need to apologize. i know what being way too drunk is like. ” not anymore he doesn’t, but he was young once too. his venture to the kitchen doesn’t take long, his time wondering how he’s supposed to call the pizza places taking up more than half of that time. the welcoming words of make yourself at home aren’t lost to him either, but there’s an uncomfortable edge to visiting someone when you barely met them half an hour ago. the most he helps himself to is a glass of water, and he washes his hands during his kitchen time. soon enough he finds himself back near the couch and he places a tall glass of water on the coffee table next to the keys. “ i tried to find some painkillers for you but going through your cabinets feels weird. i did grab this though, ” he beams and holds up a bucket. he sets it next to the couch and nudges it closer with his foot. “ there. do you need a blanket? once the nausea goes over you’ll be cold. you should get some food in you too, like bread. applesauce worked for my buddies when they were in this state, but i doubt you have that here. toast is good too. bland foods. ” he knows he talks to much and he drops his chin against his chest and tightens his fingers around the fabric of his pockets. “ i should probably get going soon. i- uh, i ordered the food to go so i’ll pick it up and head back to my corner. ” a blatant lie feels like daggers in his throat but joel hides it with a cough. “ is there anything i can do before i go? to make you feel better? ”