♘ 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯

❝ Ah, yes, my fake loser clothing and I have quite the game going. And really? That’s nice to know. Yours suits you too! So, I assume you work here? ❞

❝ Tell me more about this game I’m intrigued. And thank you, my mom had me in Sicily so I’m not really sure why she named me that, guess she just liked the sound of it more than what it actually meant. — Work? Nah. I crusade for the alcohol deprived by night, it’s like a hobby. ❞ His words are interrupted by a bar hand in the background calling over that he’s heading off, completely ruining the playful little tale he’s spinning. ❝ Dude’s blown my cover now. So yeah I totally work here. ❞

At what he said, Lana quickly turned to look at the guy with a buzzcut and groaned. She knew who the guy was. She had gone to school with him and knew Jace. When the bartender started mentioning that they were talking about her, she cast her gaze down and took a sip of her drink. “Not a celebrity,” she muttered. “Just pretty much dated one. Or at least, as celebrities go in this dinky town.” Finishing the last of her beer, Lana then ordered another one. “This is exactly what I hate about small towns. Everyone is in everyone’s business.”

His brows lift as he glances their way again. ❝ You dated a celebrity? ❞ His bemusement is satisfied some as he starts pouring her a refill from the tap while she continues. ❝ So you dated a popular guy. What’d you do, sell a picture of his junk on ebay? ❞ 

He chuckles as the other explained how one could borrow a drink. “I mean it’s an idea. Sounds a bit tedious.” he paused briefly. “I mean the town wasn’t all bad until recently. I mean the last few months have been kinda rough. — Sounds like a pretty cool place. I’ll have to check the place out for myself.”

He waves his hand in dismissal, he knows that explanation had been a load of crap. A logical load of crap, but still a load of crap, he isn’t about to pretend otherwise. ❝ It is, that’s why we’ve got money making it un-tedious. That’s not even a word, but I’m making it one right now. ❞ He nods slowly, looking over the lists on the counter before glancing back up. ❝ Yeah? Surprised you haven’t already swung by yet, I’d figured you just only went when I happened to not be out front. First drink on the house if you can find me this book, it’s called Purple Cow? Seth Godin I think. I take night classes, and apparently the man is a legend. Actually do you have audiobooks — or is this not that kinda library?  ❞

❝ Pretty smooth? You are the very definition of smooth, my friend. Well played, well played. But hello Micah. I’m Fallon. ❞

❝ Am I? You sure you’re not the smooth one parading around in loser clothing? I see your game... Fallon. It suits you. The name I mean, not the fake loser clothing. ❞

Joelle tilted her head and her eyes were pleading with him. “You’re not that much older than me..” She said quickly as the guy approached her. The creepy guy heard him call her babe and she smiled at him. “I didn’t… but babe my mom wants us there for dinner at five, okay?” She smiled at him. As the guy heard that he walked behind her and kept going. She let out a breath. “Thank you.” She said quickly.

He blinks, staring at the guys back as he makes his exit. ❝ That was weirdly easy. ❞ He nods slowly at the girl, scratching his head slightly and pours himself juice. ❝ You’re welcome, didn’t exactly do much, but okay. Guess you dodged a bullet. ❞ 

❝ I like the way you think! It’s nice to embrace the loser within sometimes. ❞

❝ Yeeaah, occasionally I’m pretty smooth. I never actually caught your name, but I’ve seen you — losering about giving losers hope everywhere, me included. I’m Micah. ❞

“Only a little, well I guess I can live with being only a little scary.” she chuckled before grasping the glass and taking a sip. Her brow perking at his teasing words. “Oh totally pity. I mean you have to sit behind the bar and watch people like me enjoy our drinks all day. How boring? I thought you could use a little something to sweeten up your day.” she said with a grin.

❝ Ouch, I feel even worse now, for not taking it. Next time I’ll be sure to stick it in the fridge, it was really nice of you. ❞ He flashes a sideways smile as he passes her briefly to slide another beer to someone who’s just walked in. ❝ This is going to sound completely cliché, but is truth really a cliché? My day’s already sweeter cause you dropped by, so this trip’s not a total bust. Enjoy that blonde, I don’t find it boring at all. ❞

“If it makes him happy, it is a good thing.” Ari concluded with a head nod. “He’s got a degree in…? –Craft beer? Fancy.” The redhead grinned quietly, tilting her head to the side, unable to take her eyes off the unknown man. “You know what’s so interesting about him? He’s not conventionally handsome but there’s something incredibly attractive about him. Maybe those kind eyes.”

“Slinky, hm? Was that supposed to insult me? I guess so… Which means no tip for you, Mr. Wingman. And don’t pretend you don’t fancy some slinky from time to time.”

❝ Don’t know, not really the type to ask, and it never came up. ❞ He’s seen this type of thing unfold between two people way too many times and he knows better than to get involved, it’s usually none of his business, but it is a small town. And she is a young girl. ❝ That he is — you can see his eyes from here? Damn, I must be getting old. Y’know he’s probably noticed you looking right, you sure you don’t want me to move aside, cause he’s not going to come over until I do. ❞

❝ Oh god… I’m sorry, I probably look like a total loser for laughing at my own joke. ❞

❝ Actually you look like a lady who’s having a lot more fun than people who ain’t got a lick of humility. Besides we’re all losers here one way or another. ❞

Ryan pursed her lips, considering.  "New Orleans sounds nice.  It’s got that farthest you can go south before you hit an ocean thing and kind of a dark vibe.“  She sighed with a little longing.  "I wish I’d been anywhere but here.  I just have movies and the internet to base all of my assumptions on.”

❝ No time like the present to find out for yourself. And hey, if you’re an artist, hit all the states, no better way to find out how other people think and do stuff, before you find somewhere that fits. ❞

“I could probably sleep for three days straight.” Rosie laughed softly. “Come on Micah, it’s me. I won’t give any secrets away.” The blonde took another sip. “My boyfriend and I went to Paris for a week.” 

❝ Paris? Nice. Your old man actually let you go? Alone? With a dude? ❞ He chuckles, glancing down abashedly. ❝ Nice try kid, secret’s a secret. So is it Paris everything everyone says it is? Croissants like clouds and brushes for tables? ❞

“I fin d it somewhat odd that you of all people are quizzing me on such a topic. Maybe I was once, yes. But I was young and naive, and it really didn’t work out.”

Raising a brow when the guy spoke, Lana looked around for a moment before frowning. “Which guy? Please don’t tell me it’s the old man with a breather.”

❝ Nah the one next to him, with the buzzcut. Actually now that I think about it, not sure if he’s checking you out or... about to — well that’s weird. ❞ His frown is bemused now, he’d been so sure a minute ago, and he’s a man with abundant experience. ❝ Are they talking about you? Are you some sorta celebrity I don’t know about yet? ❞ An easy grin breaks through his features. ❝ I mean I haven’t seen you around, and I don’t really keep up with TV so — ❞

@micahcostello

Joelle knew she shouldn’t be in that part of town at this hour, or hell at any hour, but there she was anyway. It was past curfew and that was bad enough but she was also in a rough part of town, alone, in the middle of the night. Those three things meant bad news. But honestly, Joelle didn’t care. She was so lost, not lost in where she was, but lost in everything she did. It was like after Maria disappeared, there was this gaping hole that couldn’t be filled. Her shoes carried her through the streets, past sketchy men who cat called her and whistled, and past street lamps. That was until she heard it. It was a soft medley that broke through her thoughts and made her stop. It was a song she never thought she would hear in this part of town. 

“He fills my heart with very special things With angels’ songs , with wild imaginings He fills my soul with so much love That anywhere I go I’m never lonely…” 

Her curious side got the best of her as she wandered towards the music and saw a young man with a record player listening to Shirley Bassey. “I thought I was the only one who still listened to Miss Bassey.” She said with a soft smile.

   It’s strange, how the sounds of a lost era could take him back — maybe it’s not really the glamour of it all, but perhaps the simplicity of thought — of how dreams and imagination still had magic. He’s been born too late, he often thinks that, but other times he thinks he might have had it all much worse if he had. Still he can’t help revelling in the faux nostalgia of an age where depth and romance held all the advantage; the virtues of the virtuous and the cautionary tales.  

    He leans on a brick wall, having locked the bar for the night, one foot propped up against vertical surface, chin and eyes cast downward as he allows the melody lull him into another world — so uncharacteristic for his age and most especially his appearance. The music is soft, soft enough that he doesn’t expect to draw an audience, and yet she draws near, like moth to flame, although moth seems far too crude for the sight of her.

   Brows lift a touch when his eyes dart upward, if only to identify the interruption. Chin still drawn inward, his features smoothen in concession. ❝ Dame Bassey. She’s a’ight... ❞ He watches her as he pushes his weight off the wall where his shoe had been pressed up against, and drags a knuckle over the edge of his nose. ❝ Why’re you out here this late? ❞

Phoenix let out a loose chuckle. “I mean it would be pretty strange if people borrowed drinks… thinking more about that how would that work?” he pretended to think about it casually. “In any case. Pub Fiction. I like the name, the real question is it named after the genre or the movie? Either way both are a great namesake.”

❝ Well I guess, same as any other time, if you don’t consider stock gettin’ used up. You make person A a drink, person A makes you a drink back next time. Like trade, but with a time lapse in between. ❞ He laughs easily shaking his head. ❝ Damn I feel like I’ve been in this town for too long, it’s messing with my head. I’d say both, I mean you come in, grab a drink, watch soccer or football or rugby or whatever on the flatscreen, eat chips and talk to whoever will listen about some kind of noteworthy crap that’s happened or a funny story, all within what an hour? — and it doesn’t even cost you that much. Plus it’s a really cool pun off Tarantino’s greatest classic that I would never have thought of by myself. ❞

This voice is only vaguely familiar until the mention of a bar is brought into the conversation. This was the man who always worked at the bar, what was his name again? Mike?  Michael?“ … An emergency? ” Her arms rest against the cool metal as she leans over the railing, curiosity just barely winning over her concern for lack of sleep.  “ What exactly happened? ” 

 He’s getting the phone — that no one knows he has, out and starts trying work the app. ❝ Ah.... yeah, ❞ he looks up again. ❝ Little backroom mishap, lots of broken glass and a lot of wasted spirits, and it’s a busy night tonight and our stocks need replenishing pronto sooo... ❞ he scrunches his face and shakes his head slowly. ❝ Didn’t think Murphy’s Law would apply to stupid things like this. Anyway, ❞ he waves a hand dismissively. ❝ Go back to sleep, I am really sorry, I’ll get a vehicle, and this will be out of your ears in no time. Again, sorry for waking you. ❞