âJust someone with an attachment to their license,â Frankie replied as she took the drink he offered to her. âLike I said, the cops are going to be all over the roads â they have been, if you havenât noticed. Iâm not about to risk it all over a half-off drink, though I appreciate the opportunity.â
Frankie took note of his less-than-enthused reaction as she mentioned the karaoke machine that had been going at least as long as sheâd been there, and smiled at his readily supplied answer. âTake Me Out â Franz Ferdinand. Perfect mix of being an underrated pick and an instant success. I wonât be taking any criticism on that.â
Raising her brows, she asked:Â âwhat, youâre not a fan?â
âFair enough,â Pascal commented. She had a good point. He vaguely wondered if he might ned to collect some keys from the patrons that night to keep them from crashing into one another on the way home. Typically, he knew who he needed to call a cab for at the end of the night but with half the town in the bar it was a little... messy. âCome back some other night, Iâll still honor the half off deal.â
He lifted a brow and gave a half tilt of his head mulling over her song selection. âThatâs a pretty fuckinâ good one,â he had to admit. âSo whatâs your take on whatâs been going on?â he asked, polishing a bar glass.Â
âSeventy-five bucks,â he responded, upping the price to answer her question.Â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
By the time that Frankie had walked into the Conifer Lounge, it was in the midst of what she did not doubt had been an hours-long production of drinking, gossip, and horrific karaoke. The mock-speakeasy was far from what sheâd consider her typical comfort zone for an evening out â but after the morning the majority of townsfolk had gone through, she knew that it would be assuredly packed out. And with her own mind working overtime, she was in need of a little bit â or a lot a bit â of noise.Â
As she approached the bar and handed over her ID â which was a regular occurrence, given that half the time she was assumed to be younger than she was â she recognized that the guy serving the drinks was the owner. When he asked her what she wanted to drink while hovering near the display of bottles, she answered:Â âjust a soda for me.â Feeling the obligation to explain, she added: âI have my car, and I assume there are more cops out than usual, what with half the town getting a load on.â She wasnât embarrassed of saying that she didnât drink, but wasnât interested in the inevitable response of âthen why the hell are you at a bar?â
When he questioned what had taken her so long, she shrugged. After she and Maddie had parted ways, sheâd gone back home â she didnât have a good reason for how sheâd spent her day, short of overthinking herself into a migraine. âI was thinking really hard about what karaoke song would be the perfect mix of underrated and killer, and it took all day.â
Pascal handed the young womanâs ID back to her after eyeing over it for a few seconds. He didnât have much of a plan to give her too hard a time about ordering a soda, mostly because she was at least of age and he wouldnât have to spend the next half hour telling her she needed to leave. âSoda,â he repeated, filling a bar glass with clear soda for Frankie. He set it in front of her on a coaster asking, âYou a Girl Scout or something?âÂ
His expression soured ass he looked over toward the unfortunate corner where the karaoke machine had been on full blast for the majority of the day. âDestruction by Joywave,â he answered almost instantly. âWhatâd you come up with.â He looked back over at the karaoke machine as another person queued up yet another insufferable Top 40 song. âIâll give you fifty bucks if you take a turn at that thing and manage to break it.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Where: Conifer Lounge
When: After 8 PM
Who: Frankadank @oracleurchinâ
Some bar patrons had been around all day while others were somehow still arriving even as the sun set on the town of Wade. Pascal certainly didnât mind the business, but he would have been considerably less cranky on the whole if the din of gossip in the bar didnât overcome the music on the pay-to-play digital jukebox heâd paid too much for. His shift was also supposed to have ended several hours prior as well, and other than a few moments in the back during which heâd put in load of dishes and had a single quiet moment to himself he hadnât had a single break.
Couple all of that with the fact that his staff had decided today of all days sounded like a good time to leave their work ethic at home, Pascal was pretty hangry⌠not that his usual temperament was something worth writing home about. He squashed his sour mood deep down inside with the rest of his issues and approached the bar to meet Frankie. He passively asked her to show ID, he didnât need anyone accidentally supplying to a minor on tonight of all nights when there almost had to be some of Wade finest in the crowd and offered only a quick nod of approval.
âWhatâll it be?â he asked, pausing to give her time to order. He grabbed a glass after Frankie had picked her poison and then glanced across the countertop at her. âYouâre here a lot later than the rest of the town, what was the hold up? You got something more interesting on your plate than Josie Johnson?â He hoped she did. There was no price he could possibly put on hearing someone talk about something other than Josie, or zombies, or Red, or vampires, or ghosts, or a hundred other conspiracy theories. Â
Marty couldnât have imagined spending enough time in Wade to actually have to get a job, but here she was. She told herself she was just saving until she could get back on the road comfortably again, but why did she keep looking at ads for apartments to rent? Whatever this tie was that kept her to Wade was sure to be temporary, she would do her best to make sure of it. The last thing she wanted to happen was a repeat of her experience in Vegas, though that was unlikely seeing as there were far less drugs and parties in Wade.
She milled behind the bar, a lollipop from a bowl on the bar held to her lips between her forefinger and thumb as she sucked on it, watching Pascal work. Perhaps she was just being lazy waiting for customers to come to her, but she didnât need to bother to put in any extra work when he seemed to be doing it all for her. Once he had served the patron and was close enough for her to not have to raise her voice, she looked at him with a cocked brow, removing the lollipop from her lips to speak. âDo you even need me here?â She mused, a little sarcasm laced in her voice. âYouâre the owner.â She stated plainly. âShouldnât you be on that side?â Martha gestured to the other side of the bar, which is sure as hell where she would be if she didnât have to be working right now.
Pascal turned to look at Marty to answer her questions. Days when her work ethic were like they were today made him question his decision to hire her in the first place. How frown deepened when he noticed the lollipop in her hand. âThrow that away and go wash your hands, thatâs unsanitary,â he instructed her with a tone of slight agitation in his voice. He grabbed the bowl of suckers off the bar top more than a little irritated they were there. âWho keeps bringing these out here? This is a bar, not a fucking doctorâs office.â He kept his tone quiet lest a customer overhear his frustration.Â
He raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed with her asking if she needed to be there. The bar was significantly busier than usual, although that appeared to be lost on Marty who had yet to so much as lift a finger to provide even halfway decent service. âNo one is forcing you to work here, so if you just canât be be bothered today: by all means, clock out,â he responded, not really feeling like taking the time to provide useful or corrective feedback. After all, his supervisory philosophy was largely that everyone is replaceable.Â
Pascal cleared a few empty glasses from the bar and placed them in a nearly full dishwasher rack, mentally making a note to take it to the wash room soon. They were running short on glasses. âI didnât open a bar to sit and drink in it,â he sighed, glancing over at Marty.Â
When: April 25, 2020, within an hour of Josieâs scheduled funeral
Open Starter
Far be it from Pascal to tell someone how to grieve, especially when grief was this good for business.
The bar had seen a slow increase of patrons in the days following Josieâs disappearance. When her body was found and doubt began to overshadow the police work being done, more seats in the bar were filled than empty. Now, just hours after her body had mysteriously up and vanished there wasnât an empty seat in the place. It seemed like over half the town had packed themselves into the lounge. Those who were standing with drinks in their hands had to make a special effort to move past one another without spilling their cocktails all over one another. Pascal placed a bar towel over his shoulder with a sense of pride that the Conifer Lounge had become the unofficial meeting place for gossip surrounding the town's most recent scandal.
Of course, this would only last as long as the outrage existed at the policeâs expense, or until the mystery became stale and everyone lost interest. Pascal vaguely wondered how long that might be. Certainly, it wouldnât be long term, but the police had generally shit the bed on Josieâs case and there was little confidence in his mind theyâd be locating the body in the near future so the additional profits shouldnât dry up any time too soon either.
Noticing an empty glass in his line of vision and wanting to capitalize on the occasion, Pascal approached the patron, and nodded at their drink. âCan I top you off?â he asked.Â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Characterâs Occupation: Owner of the Conifer Lounge
Face Claim: Jason Ralph
Biography:
Pascal Lennon grew up in the fringes of the Chicago city limits. Growing up, the boyâs upbringing included every advantage that could have been hoped for. Private schooling, nearby and involved grandparents, enough money for the family to enjoy a high class lifestyle, the cultural enrichment of a large city, and of course plenty of weekends at the country club.
Of course, as it goes with many stereotypes, their picturesque suburban life wasnât all it was cracked up to be. If one looked through the fissures of the family, a number of things would become readily apparent. What started as a few too many drinks, some stolen lingering stares, and the occasional note home from teachers rotted the foundation on which the very Lennon family was built. By the time Pascal reached high school screaming matches between any combination of family members was a nearly daily occurrence, his father was engaging in a series of obvious affairs, and his mother was perpetually pilled up. Pascal might have been bothered, but given the would-be protagonists of the literature he read and the messaging he received from his on-the-fringe-of-mainstream music all of this chalked up to one thing: character.
Until it equated pain.
The divorce was quick as it was brutal. The custody battle was really where the knife twisting took place. Against his wishes and in accordance with the divorce judgesâ better judgement Pascal moved into his fatherâs new apartment in the city just days before his first day of high school. Of course, Pascal had needed to transfer to a new private academy in the city as well. Spite and resentment might have been good words to sum up how Pascal felt being taken from what he had previously known.
His father flattened into a single dimension in an instant, a caricature of ego and entitlement. His mother had long since reduced herself to nothing more than fodder for writing, âa substance-less woman who if you cut her open would rip at the seams spilling out an ocean of chardonnay and scatter pillsââhe always wanted to write that into one of his books.
Despite the fact that he carried on and on about his manifest destiny as the next Great American Whatfuckingever-Write, his teachers in the city didnât hold the same enthusiasm for his talents. In fact, they grew concerned, finding that in comparison to the achievements of his highly elite classmate Pascalâs light was in fact rather dim, if it even shone at all.
Resolving to show them all, Pascal took a gap year rather than applying to university. He could have gotten in, of course, if not by his virtue as a student then certainly by statue of the check his father could easily write. But a gap year was best. After all Pascal was convinced that given a year of free time he could create, hell he could even be the next cultural shift. Instead, he spent most of the year bouncing from one friendâs apartment to the next smoking weed and listening to Sirius XM Alt Nation.
When Pascal missed the application period for the prestigious schools and couldnât deign to stoop so low as to apply to community college, Pascalâs father had all but had enough. He packed his sonâs room, cut off his credit cards, and sent the boy off to figure things out for himself. For nearly a whole four days, Pascal was on his own without a roof over his head, a resource to his name, or help from anyone (except a large handful of friends with trust funds and deep pockets, but he leaves that out of the story).
However, after Pascalâs harrowing long weekend of sheer poverty, something pulled through. When youâre someone like Pascal, someone who deserves it, something always does. Grandma Polly had passed away, and split her assets tidely between Pascal and his mother. Pascal immediately cashed in on the inheritance, making him about 1.2 million bucks the better.
Several months later, once the novelty of drinking and fucking his way through the new money had worn off, and one bank statement later the young man realized he needed to invest his money into something. He already knew he had what it took to write and he could get around to that any old time he wanted. After winning a few back room games of pokerâout of sheer dumb luck, heâd been counting cards but doing it incorrectlyâPascal managed to double the money heâd had left after his bender. Maybe this was an inheritance was a sign he really could have and deserved both.
He poured the money into a bar and inventory in the Wicker Park neighborhood. Despite a highly favorable few first months of business, patronage waned. Having sunk nearly every last penny into the place with little return on investment thus far a few little white lies made their way into the ledgers, and then just regular sized white lies, and then plain old lies, and then incredibly obvious fraud. With few options left to avoid charges and a quickly sinking business, daddy managed to bail Pascal out by finding an investor who could for all intents and purposes make the problem go away.
Pascal made back nearly a fraction of what he had initially invested into the Wicker Park bar and left the city licking his wounds. He spent a few years in a nearby suburb exploring a relationship that ultimately failed while writing freelance for a music magazine. He also produced one novel, a short play, a magazine article, and three short stories during that time receiving no offers for publication.
With only a well-padded bank account and his indomitable sense of pride, he moved further out from the city after the breakup. This was when he found Wade, a town begging for a bit of unconventionality, and empty property, begging to be transformed into Pascalâs vision. It took about everything he had in his pocket to rent an apartment and buy the retail propertyâbut heâd learned his lesson in Chicago! What could possibly go wrong?
Headcanons:
Quite possibly the only person in the world who is upset they changed the green Skittle flavor from lime to green apple.
While he told his father that he hadnât applied for any colleges, Pascal had in fact applied to around 8 prestigious higher education institutions in hopes for entering their writing programs. None of them accepted him. He figured it was better to wait another year and reapply rather than admit his failings to his father and get an earful from him. When his father cut him off, he figured the offer to pay for his schooling went out the window along with everything else. A formal  education became significantly less important when he figured he would have to pay for it himself.
He has a 9 step nightly skin-care routine, which he will not admit to anyone. Because of internalized messaging from his father, he doesnât want to be seen as effeminate in this way, but heâs gotta keep that skin soft and supple. Â
Once, convinced he was going to take up cooking and become just short of a Michelin Star chef, Pascal bought $700 worth of high quality, different flavored infused olive oil at a specialty store. He has yet to learn to make cuisine more advanced than pasta or grilled cheese.
I became very protective of it very quickly. Usually when youâre auditioning for something, you are taking whatever is coming at you and saying yes because you have to to survive. I started reading the books and became a quick and rabid fan. I had an opportunity and need to reach out to the creators and ask âWhat kind of show are you making? Because I love this thing now.â