warm bodies

 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 / 𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬 (wip) / 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦

STARTER FOR JUDE. ( @kimurahh​ )

– A CLOSING SHIFT WITH OSCAR THE GROUCH HIMSELF. normally, blair would’ve begged someone to swap – especially after he saw her lose at poker so miserably on the boat ( and she knows she’s pretty good at bluffing ! so it was just embarrassing hand after embarrassing hand. ) but, in lieu of other recent events, blair’s kind of glad for the moment alone. “ kimura,” she calls, lighting a cigarette in the store. thank god jennifer doesn’t stick around past five or six. “ can you stop actually doing your job and come over here a sec ? ” blair asks, commanding despite the fact that she has no authority over him. aside from seniority, which she is apt to remind the newbies of at any occasion. “ i wanna ask you about something. ”

he’s never wanted to be at high volume less. of all the things—of anything—he could be doing right now, manning his shift at this godforsaken record store was at the very, very, very bottom of his priority list. within the span of the few weeks, a prison break, a whole-ass boat burning to the ground (err, water?), and now the death of one of the gang’s very own are at the tip of the dumpster fire that is his worries. wrinkled eyebrows and permanent frown etch his features as he finds himself unconsciously sweeping; the swishes of the broom echo as background music to his thoughts, until blair’s calling—god, what the fuck does she want now?—prompts him to speak up for what seems to be the first time of the day. “y’can’t ask me from across the room? it’s not like anyone’s here,” he barks back, exasperatedly gesturing to the empty storefront between them. “—and your big ass mouth is obviously loud enough that i can hear you fine from all the way over here, shapiro.”

starter for , @nisafm​​

time , late at night, morning? right after the riverboat incident

location , outside nisa’s and sloane’s apartment

he doesn’t remember how he got here. it’s all a blur, riddled with this confusing mix of ire and impulsivity. his first instinct is to scream—at someone, too, preferably, and naturally, his thoughts wonder to sloane. not for any reason—and he’s the first to admit that she doesn’t deserve it, not at all—other than the fact that she’s the only one who vaguely knows, understands why he’s just so fucking angry. he wants answers, and an well-overdue explanation, but most of all, he just wants to feel vindicated—like he’s allowed to be mad. maybe if things went differently, like how he planned, no one would’ve gotten hurt, let alone died. so jude needs to yell before unbridled rage turns inward instead of outward; fists practically bang against the front door as he shouts, “SLOANE! if y’can’t answer the phone, at least open the goddamn door!”

– “WOW, YOU’RE FRIENDLY TONIGHT,” BLAIR REMARKS, leaning on the table. she narrows her eyes, “ very suspicious. ” then, a grin to show that she’s absolutely joking ! and he’s right, too, she’s always been a betting woman, believes in LUCK more than she believes in any god. still, she knows jude must think of himself as pretty good at this – and he very well might be – if he’s asked her to play him. she certainly has no idea he could have connections, and blair revels at the chance to put him in his place. she nudges him lightly, “ oh, i’m sure you will, ” gaze is challenging, “ deal me in, then. ”  

despite initial instinct, jude’s quick to bite back a retort—instead, he finds himself stepping back, hands thrown up and lips downturned in a ‘if you so so’-kind of curve. he even goes out of his way to pull a chair out for her as the “dealer” sets up their first (and definitely not last) hand. it’s all in the long game, ya’ know; give her a false sense of confidence and whatnot. “how much we thinking ‘bout putting on the line, shapiro?” jude subtly probes. “of course, this is a casino, so there’s obviously money involved—but i’m willing to up the ante if you are, because i think my back-to-back opening shifts next weekend are just dying to have your name on them instead.”

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: riverboat casino, outside deck 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed to @kimurahh

well, fuck. if things didn’t look grim to marty before ( with the ever-so-present threat of a murderer that’s way too interested in a group of people ) they sure as hell do now. whatever the plan was coming here, whatever the high volume employees were thinking they could achieve for coming here ( for once, marty is so completely out of the loop and it’s their own doing ) marty is almost a hundred percent sure it doesn’t include two of them falling in debt with whoever’s in charge of the gambling tables. marty knows she ought to know — and yet…

the cold air from the mississippi river hits marty’s skin like a bucket of ice water being thrown at her, a feeble attempt at grounding them. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mumbles under her breath, looking back at the door to see if anyone followed them out. seeking a spot away from the exit to the deck, she walks over to the railing and leans on it, hands gripping it like she’s trying her hardest not to jump into the water. it’s not a thought that even crosses her mind, to be honest, even if cold water does sound better than whatever the fuck she’s feeling now. 

this party has been going on for fucking ages—or, at least, it feels like it has. he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, navigating this semi-double life of his; he’s talked to pretty much every member of the gang he’s spotted at this point, but not one is willing to fess up where their beloved criminal mastermind (cue the internal choke of sarcasm) is. after all, it’s not that big of a boat—where the hell could james be?

but jude’s long-resigned himself to not bothering with trying to decipher the absolute disorder that is james’ planning (or lack thereof), so instead, he’s waiting—for a sign, for a signal, all while smoking his nth cigarette of the evening. —he was even well on his way to finishing his pack before marty storms out, summoning high volume-jude to react accordingly. “uhh, hey there,” he lazily greets. an unlit cigarette haphazardly rests between lips, while eyes follow her own gaze before focusing on her own features in front of him. “you all good? y’look like you’ve seen a ghost or somethin’.”

@kimurahh​ // toward the end of the night probably

jamie might just be absolutely hammered, but did he and marty just gamble away a ton more money than they actually have? he’s slipped away from the guys they owe, but somehow also lost marty along the way, and now he’s just hoping he’ll make it through the rest of the night unscathed. it’s almost enough to make him forget about the fact that his dad’s murderer could still be somewhere around here. almost.

he rounds a corner to make his way back to his friends, but quickly catches sight of one of the guys he and marty owe money to– making him whip back around in retreat so fast that he bumps right into jude. “shit, hey, what’s up,” he greets messily. “i can’t turn around to check, but the guy in the red shirt isn’t coming this way, is he?”

it’s been a while since he’s been around the gang; it’s even kind of—dare he say—nice, just a little bit. there’s just this feeling that comes from being around so many familiar faces, as if jude’s in his element amongst the shady practices and the even shadier people. it’s not enough to crack a smile, obviously, but there is a certain stride in his step when he’s leaving a conversation with another gang crony before turning to be abruptly pulled into another one.

“damn, dude, what’s got you in a rush?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow and a not-so-subtle quick glance to the guy in question. “uhh, if i say he is, is that bad? because, like, he is. —oh, please don’t tell me that’s something to be worried about, jamie, when we’re currently stranded on a fuckin’ boat in the middle of the river.”

closed for ,  @mvxsinc​

location ,  somewhere on the boat idfk

he’s thankful that these people think more with their livers, than their brains. just a week ago, whispers and woes of a certain man no longer behind bars had them reconsidering this whole riverboat party, but he should’ve known that the majority of these deadbeats wouldn’t pass up such a prime opportunity to be drunk on a motherfuckin’ boat. —honestly, you can’t make this shit up. so in that sense, jude should be thankful (?) for them making his job a little bit easier tonight; he’s patrolling the party ever-so casually to keep his eighteen favorite people either within eyesight or earshot. most are at varying levels of wasted, until he spots one employee with a rather concerning expression of worry to strike up a conversation about. “yo, max, you doin’ good? you look a lil’ pale—are you, like, seasick or something?”

closed for ,  @outsldcr​​

location ,  by the bar (on the boat... obviously)

he needs this people piss-fuckin’-drunk, like, can’t tell their left from their right, up from down-levels of drunk. he needs them incoherent and completely incapable of snitching to the police when all hell (or, any hell—he wouldn’t know, not like the gang fucking tells him anything) breaks loose. thankfully, most of high volume’s employees absolutely cream their pants at the mention of ‘open bar’ and ‘party’ in the same sentence, but others, well, need a bit more convincing. so jude stands here, leaning against the bar counter with one hand nursing the same glass of water he’s had the whole night, while the other has the honor bringing his third cigarette of the evening up and down (and up and down, and up and down) from his lips—jude stands here, like a predator laying in wait for its unsuspecting prey, when finally, a voice calls for the bartender. the familiarity of it prompts him to turn his head, only to see, “yo, milhorn.” another drag of his cigarette, before he gestures it towards the other. “please tell me you’ve had a change of heart about drinking, my friend.”

closed for ,  @shapiros​​

location ,  inside, by the entrance of the casino

maybe it’s the inherent business instinct in him because, despite having much higher priorities to worry about tonight, his greed for getting absolute suckers on the hook for debt with the gang can’t be reined in. —and who better to reel in than one of high volume’s very fuckin’ own? so when a familiar face strolls in, jude’s quick to wink at an empty table’s ‘dealer’, look at the pair of muscle in the back corner, before he’s approaching lucky victim number one. “shapiro!” he calls. “i know you’re a betting woman, so how about a game of poker? can definitely give you more than a gum-ball if you win, too.”

location :   the hoedown throwdown 

featuring :   @kimurahh​

“ HEYYYY JUDE !   don’t let me down ! ”   an arm wraps around jude’s neck in a weird bro-hug as he comes up to the guy from behind, giving him a playful slap on the back before pulling away. the party’s been going on for some time, and there hasn’t been a moment where eric hasn’t had a drink in his hand  ( not even when he went to the bathroom, which… gross much ? ) .  eric’s speaking a little louder than normal, cheeks flushed despite the illinois night being a little chilly, smiling at jude as if the two are best friends. then again, he does consider the younger kid a friend, or at least a brotherly figure. compared to some of the people he’s dealt with tonight, jude’s presence feels like a saving grace.   “ what’s up, man ?   you having fun ?   you want a drink ? ”   his mouth can’t move as fast as his brain does, words a little slurred as he tries to get it all in. eric glances around, feeling like something’s missing—until he realizes it’s a someone.   “ where’s sloane ? ”   he asks, trying to remember when he had seen her last. they might’ve shared some drinks together, but it felt like a lifetime ago now.   “ you’re nailing her, right ?   good for you, with the older girls. ”   his holds his hand up to be high-fived. 

jude’s on edge—like, really fuckin’ on edge. like, if there were a meter from one to ten of how ‘on edge’ he was, he’d be a goddamn eleven. for pursuing a career in organized crime, there sure as hell ain’t anything organized about this. the illegal gambling ring was already shady (and shoddy, he’ll admit) enough, but now they have to add a prison break to the, um, services they offer? it’s stupid, and demonstrates how everyone—including james, practically the devil’s incarnate himself at this point—in the gang severely lacks a sense of foresight when it comes to the cold, hard logistics of actually getting away with their fair share of crimes. so, in short, jude’s on edge—and eric (err, drunk eric) coming up behind him whilst deep in these thoughts wasn’t exactly helping. “hey... uhhh... man,” jude responds rather slowly, partly because he was distracted by other, well, distractions, but mostly because he never knows how to get along with the buddy-buddy type of drunks. his eyes narrow rather quickly and pointedly, though, at the mention of sloane, only for them to immediately widen at the insinuation that they’re fucking. —talk about a harsh slap back to reality. “you think? me? and sloane? are sleeping together? seriously?” he echoes out; his own hand slowly reaches out to return the high-five, but at such a low speed, it was more of jude just, like, pressing his palm against eric’s.

          “you’re always stressing yourself out so much, jude. you’ll get frown lines by the time you hit twenty-five at the rate you’re going.” sloane doesn’t know anything about being a sibling, but there’s a chiding edge in her tone. he’ll bristle at that too, though that’s never stopped her from saying what she likes to him. “you probably could’ve just left. i doubt jennifer would’ve held it against you. some of these people barely even show up to their shifts on time.” she’s not sure what she had expected from this group of people, but punctuality had been somewhere in there. “honestly? you kind of do. you and jamie are like two peas in a pod.”

“you say that and yet act like you’re not the main cause of all my stress, sloane,” he barks back, partaking in what could only be seen as a pissing contest in who can annoy the other more. he doesn’t remember a time when the two weren’t like this—when sloane wasn’t excessively ticking him off and when jude, much to his chagrin, wasn’t forced to tolerate all of it. “right. like i want jennifer to lump me in with the imbeciles who got her own fuckin’ brother killed,” he retorts, with his tone quickly turning into a hiss-whisper by the tail-end of his sentence—jude even reaches over to flick sloane on the forehead; real quick thinking in that one, for sure.

         her head tilts as she puts on an exaggerated look of concern. “what you smell affects your hearing? you should probably see a doctor about that.” while nisa’s tone is unaffected, there’s a part of her that’s offended by jude’s comment on her perfume. but she knows he’s just trying to get under her skin. well, probably. “like there’s anywhere else to go.” never mind the fact that she can’t leave, at least until after their set. “this town has a strict one event quota, and this fills that spot today. everywhere else is definitely dead right now.”

a dramatic gasp escapes him, with a melodramatic hand-on-chest pairing itself with the reaction. “you’re right—being in your presence is detrimental to my health. you’ve already ruined two of my senses, now you’re out for a third?” a hasty grab of his collar pulls the fabric up to his nose, all the while he’s tugging himself farther away from her in a rather theatrical fashion. “you better stay away from me, princess—unless you’re willin’ to put your money where your mouth is and pay for my hospital bills.” there’s a beat of silence before he finally relaxes and lets up the act for a minute—or, err, barely a minute. “well, i’ll be damned. here i thought we mutually hated each other guts, but y’don’t have to dance around the fact that you actually want to spend more time with me—don’t tell me ya’ told jennifer to schedule us on the same shift together today, or i just might puke.”

jamie pretends to consider for a moment, before cracking a grin. “i mean, you know i feel about occasional violence,” he shrugs in agreement. “they’ll know not to take advantage of the new guy again once we’re finished.” as frustrated as jude seems by the job at the moment, there’s definitely a part of jamie that hopes he’ll stick around, and that high volume can keep him on his feet. but he won’t be surprised if jude just gets bored of it after a while, given how transient his life has been before now. “aside from the flaky as shit coworkers, how’re you liking it so far. wish you could’ve been here when my dad ran it, he was a lot more… hands-off.”

“good to know that you can take the kid out of juvie, but not juvie out’ta the kid,” jude says, offering his own smirk in reply. “—but as tempting as the idea is, wouldn’t want the word to get out that the town’s local high-school dropout isn’t scared of throwing punches on the clock. would be really counterintuitive to ‘straightening out’ and all that other bullshit, huh?” there’s barely a twinge of guilt at the lie (another little white lie on top of all the others, enough to keep jude blind to the truth, after all); he’s not all that wrong, after all. the whole gang’s operation relies on their jude’s mastery of hiding in plain sight, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to jeopardize their guise for some dipshit who can’t even bother to come into their stupid part-time job on time. “i bet. your dad must’ve been, uhh, pretty cool if he was letting his son and half of woodstock’s youth population hang out on his dime.”

ERIC CAN ONLY CHUCKLE AT JUDE’S THEATRICS, the insult of being called slow physically and mentally rolling right off of him. sure, the joint he had smoked helps soften the blow, but jude looks so funny tapping his finger to his forehead, like he’s trying to look like some kinda scientist, that the point is missed.   “ what ?   don’t tell me you’re a backstreet boys fan, ”   he asks with another laugh, slowly moving to take jude’s spot behind the counter, frowning to himself when there’s no chair to sit in. not that he needed one anyway, seeing as there were swarms of people around the counter that would’ve made it impossible for him to sit back and kick up his heels like usual.   “ well if you come back, bring back some pizza for me, ”   eric offers.   “ i could go for a pepperoni slice. i haven’t eaten much today, either. ”   and it wasn’t going to take long in this shift before he starts to feel it.   “ i don’t think you need to do any advertising to help with that, ”   he laughs again, looking around at the store.   “ but that’s nice of you, man. maybe if you ask jennifer, she’ll give you one of those signs you can spin on the corner. ”   as if there’s one just chilling in a closet at the store.

jude should’ve known better than try to engage in a coherent conversation with a high man—don’t these people know that just because they live in a town called woodstock, doesn’t mean they have to act like they’re at the festival everyday? so he rolls his eyes, ignores eric’s comment (and fights off the intrusive thought of whether or not he should be offended that someone would even consider him a backstreet boys fan) as jude gathers up his things for a (hopefully) quick get-away. “you didn’t eat before you got here? how? the munchies haven’t kicked in yet?” he questions with a shrug of his jacket on and a shove of his name tag into a random pocket. “now that you mention it, maybe i should bring the suggestion up to jennifer herself—y’know, just to see what she thinks. maybe your sorry ass will be the one spinning a sign on the corner. y’could think of it as, like, divine retribution for keeping me here past my shift.”

     NOT  THAT  SHE  EXPECTED  TO  BE  MET  WITH  GRATITUDE  ANYWAY.  max  hops  into  jude’s  spot  with  a  light  smile  because  if  she  doesn’t  she’s  certain  she  might  actually  not  be  able  to  take  this  —  another  20  minutes  she  can  do,  but  hours  ?  she  hopes  jude’s  reliever  is  right  around  the  corner,  but  who  knows  with  these  employees.  «  why  not  ?  you  have  such  inviting  shoulders  to  cry  on,  »  she  mocks  lightheartedly,  scrunching  her  nose.  «  got  it.  thanks  for  the  encouragement.  you’re  always  so  sweet  to  me,  judey.  »

it’s people like maxine that (he’s sure, he’s gotta be) keep high volume running as well as it is; nice people who the not-so nice (slackers, loafers, imbeciles) take advantage of to do most, if not all, of the work needed to keep the store afloat—not him, though, of course not him. so even with his eagerness to take off running as soon as he’s relieved, don’t lump him in with the rest of ‘em: he’s sensible to a fault, maybe, but not a total slouch. “what can i say? i’m a sweet guy; sweet enough that i waited for someone to take my place before ditching—so if jennifer walks by and asks, be sure to put in a good word in for me, ya’? maybe then she’ll finally stop saddling me with the closing shift every weekend.”

he’s kind of glad he’s on the later shift, though he would have rather had been on the same one as max, even if he’s basically been here all day anyway and she’s still wandering around somewhere. so, he knows jude’s also been here since the morning, but kem’s not entirely sure who’s swapping out with him so he has nothing but a shrug to weakly offer in response. “ if you gotta go,  just go. ” though it is fucking busy and jude’s departure would make it worse but kem and the rest of them could probably deal with it. maybe. “ no one can force you to stay. ” maybe. 

if there’s anything that jude hates, it’s being told what to do—not like kem’s ordering him around necessarily (it’s more like a suggestion, really), but it’s the tone that gets jude, the inference that he’s an idiot, a part-time slave to capitalism who complains about working but won’t take off when he should. it’s annoying, like, of course he knows he can just go; he’s not a fuckin’ idiot. so maybe he’s a bit short with his words—but don’t blame him. really, it’s everyone else’s fault for getting him so angry in the first place. “no fuckin’ shit, but the ways thing go around this place, my ass is in hot water for leaving my post empty, rather than the dipshit who couldn’t come in on time, so.”

– “DUDE, YOU TOTALLY CHEATED,” she laughs, shaking her head admonishingly at him, “ that doesn’t count. ” expression is matter-of-fact as her shoulders lift. still, it’s pretty nice to have some fresh blood around, and she finds jude especially amusing with the way he always seems so serious. “ hm, wouldn’t you like to know ? ” she retorts, “ though, come on, everyone enjoys a good ass now and then. usually better without a big stick in the way, though. ” blair reaches into the tip jar again and brandishes a quarter out to him, “ here, ” she says. “ quit griping. ” 

“wow, sore loser much?” he counters with a raise of his eyebrows, a restrained scoff under his breath. he doesn’t even know why he’s still bothering to entertain all this... baloney. clearly, it’s a lose-lose situation for him either way, no matter how much he argues—especially if blair’s the one calling the shots; the girl’s got it our for him, he swears, and he hasn’t even fuckin’ done anything yet. so, out of reflex, he begrudgingly reaches for the quarter. “you’re lucky it’s busy today. jennifer would be out for blood if she saw fifty whole cents missing from the tip jar, ” he warns, with a squint of his eyes that read ‘i’m watching you’.