Nishant Doshi

“Don’t worry about it!” He smiled brightly, he’d feared that Micah might not want to be offered anything, but it seemed that he could happily supply two cups for two friends. “A trans one, yeah! If they have it, I’ll certainly nab it,” he said with determination. His offer was met with something easy, making it clear that Micah didn’t worry much, went along without a second thought. He liked that, he very much wished he could be more like that. “Alright,” he said happily, “I could do for some beers. Or are you thinking of something stronger?”

〝 hey ! what the fuck is wrong with you ? 〞 oh , whoa. what a loaded question that is. if louisa had to really think about it , well , there would be one hell of a list to go through and frankly the essence of time wasn't on her side. ❝ wouldn't you like to know , biscuit boy. ❞ comes the snarky response after rounding a corner and almost knocking over a cop on his ass in the process. it's not as if she had done it on purpose. who wants to be snapped at by a pig in blue ? no one. and as fun as it is to annoy a person who is of a " higher authority " , that isn't the point right now and not the focus of louisa's attention span — which was already on a short fuse. lou's ritual before starting her typical night shift at starstruck was to stop in a the little duck for a quick chat with nishant and put back. a couple of drinks to get the blood flowing. ❝ hey , bestie ! ❞ lou calls to nishant with a pant , back pressing up against the closing door with a shit - eating grin and appropriately shutting the door on the officer who attempted to get an explanation out of her. it doesn’t take them long for her to spot the other in the mere distance of the establishment, occupying himself behind the bar. waltzing further into the little duck , lou takes a spot directly in front of her pack leader with an exaggerated huff which is then followed by the quick drumming of her hands against the bar top. ❝ i'll take a pint of red ale and two shots of vodka , handsome. ❞

"Starting the night off strong?" he asked, as he threw the cleaning cloth over his shoulder and reached for a new glass. He made the ale quickly, but gave Louisa the shot glasses of vodka first. "What happened with the constable?" he asked, having seen the door being closed on them through the big pub's windows.

“Oh, this is from the CoffeeKanteen!” he smiled. “They’re selling them in all different types of flags for the pride event, but all month! I can get you one, if you want, drop it by or give it to Sofia.” Anyone who knew Nishant knew that he tended to want to do things for handsome men, he couldn’t help himself, even if there was nothing to be won. 

Giving the glass a sneer, she hastily slides it over the wooden bar top, continuing to needle at him. "I wanna know." Truth be told, she assumed plenty of people had complimented him so. If Cece wasn't as gay as Sappho herself, she might have even tried to dabble in taking him home once or twice. She could almost taste that warm sweetness as she stared at the pretty brown hues of his eyes. But then she remembered a different pair of eyes—green, vivid, and arresting. Beatrice, with her slight five-foot-three frame, button nose, and the scent of what Cece assumed were roses (though she didn’t know much about flowers just yet), had become her current, and all too permanent, source of brainrot.

"Okay. I get it. Last one." Rolling her eyes playfully at him, she offered a Cheshire grin. "You don't have to be mean about it. You know I'm your favorite." She continued to pick at Nishant's all too kind demeanor, worsening her chances of getting kicked out. She swayed slightly, her balance a delicate dance on the edge of chaos, her eyes bright with the reckless abandon that only intoxication could bring. "I guess get me a soda too- plain so I can sober up."

“How about you?” he asked. 

As Cece accepted, Nishant took a long breath, then reached down in the fridge under the bar and got her a soda. He chuckled. “You’re my favourite? Well, I am glad you’ve decided this for yourself, because I was actually going to say that Miss Baxter is my favourite, last week she brought me homemade cookies,” he explained, as he took the cap off the soda and set it down in front of her. “I have high standards now. What do you bring to the table?”

"Toast to you meeting someone cute?" she suggested, obviously allowing for a vagueness of terms so he did not become nervous immediately. "Or to you never narcing to Helia on the shit I say about how the towns rules are dumb?"

“I’d never narc to Helia about anything you say. I don’t even trust her to keep something about me a secret,” he said. Maybe the Werewolf part, but the other part… probably she knew, but she’d never heard it from him. “To me meeting someone cute and to you making some more friends?” He tried to sound as reassuring as he could, because he knew he was probably the worst friend anyone could wish for, eighty percent of the time he was focussed on himself. 

His eyes flickered toward Nishant, a small smile painted on his lips when he noticed the slight tinge on Nishant’s cheeks. How easy it was for him to tease the other. “Then you should come to my house soon.” Reza kicked the dirt with his heel when he walked. He wondered if he had a spandex amongst his clothes, or maybe he would be able to make up for it by wearing clothes that were a little to tight around the right places. That, he definitely had. “Tonight, maybe?”

The Werewolf hummed and nodded, the idea of a night with Reza was a lot for his brain. He bit his lip and nodded. "Tonight sounds good, I'm free," he said, longing clear in his voice. He could order them some pizzas.

He figured the lack of a response meant that Reza thought about it too. What would come of him when he was gone, who would remember him. Nishant would, possibly for a long time, most likely for his whole life. Even if there was nothing between them - even if it was one-sided - he did not think he could ever forget the other. "Sure," he said, though he'd hardly gotten his exercise in, not that it mattered, he'd follow Reza regardless. "Good time for lunch!"

Nishant didn’t know this—perhaps he could sense it, and was feeling generous to avoid that conversation—but the Little Duck wasn’t Cece’s first bar stop of the night. Chaos coursed through her veins, propelling her into a relentless pursuit of alcohol. The aftermath of this reckless spree would later manifest as a sordid scene: ripped fishnets clinging to her legs, a jacket haphazardly draped over her head for warmth, and a puddle of vomit beside her as she attempted to sleep off her inebriation in some dark, forgotten alley. That was—unless Nishant decided to intervene, cutting her off and perhaps calling someone to take care of her. She silently hoped he wouldn’t feel like playing hero tonight, for the mania’s sake.

The Little Duck, a bar that oozed charm, had an ambiance both inviting and deceptive due to its new owners. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and a hint of stale beer, mingling with the soft murmur of patrons engaged in hushed conversations. It was almost closing time, wasn't it?

Her eyes, slightly glazed from the alcohol, sparkled with a mischievous glint. The bar's soft lighting highlighted the sharp angles of her face, casting shadows that hinted at the depths of her wild and complex nature. Cece’s voice carried a slurred edge, but her words were laced with a genuine curiosity and a touch of admiration. "Did you know my brother works here too?" Cece snorted at the irony, the thought of Angelo Chiarelli—her dear brother, her de facto parental figure for most of her tumultuous life—being in the same town, let alone the same establishment, felt surreal. "Don't worry though, you're still my favorite bartender. Give me a shot of Jameson, won't you, baby?" she drawled, her elbows resting heavily on the bar's polished surface. Leaning closer, a playful wrinkle creased her nose as she fixed Nishant with an appraising look. "Anyone ever tell you that you're too pretty? Prettier than me, aren't ya?"

The Little Duck was a bar more than a club, but plenty of people loved to hang out on the wooden benches and chairs, drinking beer from the tap, and ordering dish after dish of fried food. He did enjoy the last few hours, when most people went home and it was mostly those who should probably be home that stuck around.

And Angel's little sibling.

"I know," Nishant told her, pouring her a Jameson though not filling it up all the way to the brim, she didn't look like she could use a whole lot more. Should he call her brother now. "Last one," he said, as he placed the glass on the counter top, sliding it over to Cece. He blushed, then shook his head. "This is still your last one."

If she was to be concerned with how he looked it was for the same reason that she was concerned he intended to order a beer. It wasn't exactly reading as straight, more...ill defined, like his personality had not developed, which was simply a contrast to the truth. It had, he was unfortunately too afraid to exist publicly within it. In her mind what harm would an open collar knit polo be? Some linen pants instead of 'jeans.' On an adult man with 'responsibilities.' No, he deserved more. Maybe she was as bad as his actual mother.

He took her words lightly, perhaps without a good reason, but he laughed as if she'd joked with him. "Oh yeah, no, probably isn't much to say about it. It was depressing, nice as well, mostly depressing." He accepted the drinks he'd ordered, putting the fancy glass in Sofia's hand and taking a sip from his beer from tap. He'd learned to drink it, as any good British kid. "Here's your drink," he said. "Want to toast to something?"

"i get what you mean, for me it tends to change with the seasons. in the summer i might wanna read a romance novel, like where they meet at a party or something. in the fall i usually like a good horror book, because halloween. winter and spring just kinda bounce between genres." the explanation is largely unnecessary, but they provide it with a smile nonetheless. "sounds like you read a lot, do you have any good suggestions? i read everything, i doubt you could suggest something i'm not interested in."

“Oh yeah, Halloween, that was never big when I was younger, so I never got into that,” he explained. “And I feel like life is already a horror story,” he let out a laugh, hoping it came off as a joke. “Oh, I mean… I don’t read a lot, I think, maybe twenty books a year, if even,” he admitted. And it was rare that he read consistently, usually it was more him finding the time at work to read when all the other work was done. “Uhm, last thing I read… was Crazy Rich Asians, that was… a weird book, a lot of stuff about fashion that went over my head.” He paused, ignoring to mention the few gay-love stories he’d read. “You?”

"i guess?" she responds, glancing in his direction. she briefly considers that she thinks she's seen him around town, but she isn't sure. "i think it's meant more as an abstract piece, but i kinda see what you mean with the shapes."

He shrugged. “That’s the idea of abstraction, right?” He smiled. “Abstract so we as the viewer can make something from it.” He was certain she could sniff out the fact that he was a Werewolf. And there were plenty of other werewolves around as well, probably by Ezhil’s invitation. He wondered if Hector was there… nope, no, begone gay thoughts. “Ready for tonight?” he asked, trying to sound as vague as possible.

The Werewolf made a face, shaking his head. “Oh, do I?” He coughed. “That’s foul.” Rotten Eggs? Wait, was that part of it. “I’m afraid of what’s waiting for us up ahead,” he added, then took the lead, following his nose into a classroom that was… oh yes: filled with rotten eggs. Eggshells were all littered over the floor and the place was a mess. “Pretty sure they have hidden a whole lot of eggs in here, hoping to scare people off with the smell.” He said as he held his shirt in front of his nose.