Damage Gets Done

Open || @aurorabaystarter

patrick: need to tell me who you are first, and how you got this number.

“ That was far more eloquent than anything I could have come up with. I appreciate the sentiment though and try to do the same” to be fair time time didn’t mean anything for the over ten years nelson had been traveling. Everything felt more like this vacation from reality he got to escape from till it stopped being fun and he knew he had to go home and be there for his family. “ do I want to ask? Or do you wanna split a bottle of something instead ?” He asked unsure if his friend wanted to bring up New York at all @pxtrickbalfe

patrick had probably spilled bits and pieces of his life to nelson in the past, but not enough detail to understand what brought him to this tiny town on the opposite side of the country. he himself had the same question in regards to nelson's presence here. "you can ask, but i'll take you up on that bottle first."

Astrid hummed a little in simple acknowledgement of the information he was supplying, though she couldn't have felt less like any of it applied to her. She wasn't a boy, she wasn't old, she wasn't rich, and she'd probably rather die than let one of those things touch her lips. The Irish thing though — that was an Irish accent she was hearing, right? — that was cool. She decided to focus on that. "So there are a lot of old rich fucks where you're from? What'd they do to you that makes you want to say 'fuck 'em' from, whatever, five thousand miles away?"

"sure, there's a lot." maybe not to the extremity he saw in england or new york. while he could mould himself to fit into specific kind of man they required him to be in each board room, or dimly lit club filled the scent of cigar smoke and smoothed oak furniture. "distance means nothing when money is on the line." he shrugs, "you could say i'm.... warding away own evil spirits."

With: open @aurorabaystarter Where: Any bar

patrick doesn't think he's done anything physically reckless in his life, apart from some heavy drinking. he might have made some reckless spending, but he was far from one that would throw a lot of caution to the wind. "depends what that entails."

where: you pick!! @aurorabaystarter

the fact patrick didn't remember the last time he ever packed a 'to-go' box reminded him that aurora bay was good chance for him to come back down to earth a little. glancing at the food on the floor, patrick was already certain the act of pouring a bright red curry into a small box may not be as easy as it seemed. "i might have better luck just... spooning it into the box."

"Oh thank you," She said as she accepted the lighter and tilt her head to the side. "Just how many do you have lying around, are you one of those people who loses their lighter and just buy more until you realize you have a collection?"

"i've been collecting them since i started smoking." patrick nods. from expensive antique lighters, to the cheap bic's he found at new york bodegas, they were all one in the same in his collection. it was probably one of the reasons he was never truly incentivised to quit. "should probably find them new owners."

“ that’s the whole age thing I think if you get older, you start to realize that time is losing all meaning. It’s why I drink more. ” Nelson noted as he raised his glass in the air. He wasn’t actually that dour when it came to growing older, but he also just had a strange sense of humor sometimes. “ perfect. So this is a case of just visiting are you here to stay and enjoy the small-town life.?” @pxtrickbalfe

"times a concept humans created. we used to live with no fear of it." humans used to live without a lot of things, like the cars and cash that gave patrick his cushy life, but it wasn't the time for semantics. "the plan is long term, new york is a sore spot at the moment." well at least that was the plan.

esme couldn't help but to laugh as she accepted the cigarette and shook her head, "I think you're just being a bad influence at this point." She jokingly said as she toyed with the cig before adding, "Do you think I can borrow your lighter too?"

"tittle of my autobiography." a bout of humoured air escapes patrick's lips as returns his own cigarette. he needed start hanging around people who smoked, they tended to be the kind that didn't bring stress into his life. something about a moral high horse. at the woman's request, he pulls a small lighter out of his back pocket, "it's all yours. i gotta million of them lying 'round."

“The burgers slap though,” Tori answered, remembering the menu nearly off by heart. Everything here was quite good and it really hadn’t changed since she’d been living in New York. “That…sounds punny,” she said after thinking about it. “So do the milkshakes, I don’t know if I’d waste either on a stupid man.” @pxtrickbalfe

"slap?" a brow raises as patrick turns towards the other woman. "that some new young peoples speech, eh?" he asks, allowing a bout of humoured air to escape his lips. patrick felt very much out of the loop watching young people on the internet having conversations. sometimes they didn't even use words! communicating all they need to say with emojis. "i'd say depends on if the milkshake tasted good and/or how much she paid for it. sometimes it's not worth that movie moment of throwing food at the cheating partner."

" Eh...to each their own, if you want to smoke smoke....not like someone controls your life, just your inner demons," Esme shrugged her shoulders, "I just needed a moment to myself...kinda wish I was a smoker--socially I am...when I am intoxicated but currently sober at the moment."

patrick could argue a lot of external elements had the ability to control ones life, but that was neither here or there. he glances over to the blonde, before pulling out a small but long silver tin from his pocket. inside, were extra cigars sitting in a perfect line. "here." he hands one over, "sometimes you gotta let the demons win."

It was kind of surprising the amount of times nelson was running into people that he had known from his past and not a single one yet had been a bad thing. As soon as he saw Patrick it was like a weird time capsule of one of the few people he liked from his families own inner circle. “ it has. How many year you think?” He thought out loud as he shook the other man’s hand. “ it’s yours. I was waiting for a table but ended up enjoying it hear” @pxtrickbalfe

"no clue, they seem to all blur together at some point." one day patrick turned around and he was a few years away from forty. something about family mixing with money seemed to age ones self rather quickly. "good, because we have a lot to catch up on." patrick declares, settling himself down in the chair across from nelson and hailing over the waiter.

Astrid was taking a quick respite from the dinner going on inside with a couple of her team's administrators, who had offered to take her out to dinner while checking in her progress. She liked them, but the constant reminder that she was sitting at home while everyone else was gearing up for the season was weighing on her. She looked over when the man next to her spoke, getting punched in the face with the smell. Nose crinkling, she resisted the urge to wave it away. "You're good, man. Free country and everything." she said, though she couldn't completely keep the disdain out of her voice. She took in the size of the cigar and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "People smoke those things casually?"

patrick nods. however, any disapproval probably wouldn't of really stopped him from smoking anyway. he'd smoked long enough that the closest people in his life knew he wasn't planning to stop any time soon. at the mention of the cigar, patrick holds what was left of it up in the air between his fingers. "usually no, they're sold for way more than one would assume they're worth." he returns the cigar to his lips, "they're 'old boys club' kinda cigars. i like to think about how mad the old fucks would get about me burnin' one outside a night club."

"I heard that smoking makes your hair fall out and you age about ten years in the space of a month." Something a stylist had said to her once, when she'd been caught sneaking a cigarette from a crew member before going on-air. "Very bad stuff." Although, she had no real evidence of this, apart from the studies she'd read — through bus stop advertisements. "I guess that makes you like... twenty years old or something? Judging by the — " Her hand raised, gesturing to his facial features, only meant to tease him. "You know."

a grin hangs lazily over patricks lips. "nineteen, actually." he corrects in jest. "well, we all die at some point." he remembers watching his mothers slap the cigars out of the hands of her dying husband, who at that point knew that his time was nearly up. at that tender stage of life it didn't really seem to matter whether he'd cark it tomorrow, or next week.