Veronica Wentzell

“Your mom,” he shot back immaturely, shoving away the small brunette’s touch. The flesh was tender, but surprisingly, looked worse than it felt. David scowled at her laughter, setting his jaw firmly before raking a hand through light hair. “I was going to ice it, but then I ended up falling asleep.” The result? Looking like he’d tried to motorboat a woodchipper.

“You’d still be bleeding, bub.” Though she frowned, her hand falling back to her waist for a moment. The tenderness had been abandoned but care had been held somewhere deep behind the action if only painted onto her features for a split second. The giddiness that David’s confidence had been challenge hadn’t disappeared for long, and the merriment maintained in her tone, “What? This happen last night? You got any rice?” She questioned while simultaneously shoving him unsuccessfully in the direction of the apartment.

“What?” Why was she repeating herself? He stared back at her almost blankly before he shook his head slightly. “No I’m not kidding.” What did it matter? Her seat slightly higher than his surely made enough of a difference, how small could she have been? “No, you sat there, in that seat and that row. You’re not sitting in this seat, so why do I need to move? The seat was empty, now it’s not.” Kaiden was sure it was easy enough to comprehend why he’d sat there. “There’s nobody in my way, so why should I move? I can see fine.”

Was he just that incompetent or was this a purposeful jest? Some sort of idiotic set up propagated by teenagers who managed to rope in a full-grown man into their antics. Out of the entire theater, the silhouette of his head would just barely make its appearance in front of the screen, but it was enough to itch beneath her skin given the other options of seats. “Do you not understand me? I was here first, now your big ass head is in my way. It’s rude, so I’ll say it again: move.” Nails raked against the plastic of the armrest in frustration as she spoke.

            “Right.” Sophia wished for the ground to open up beneath her. Why had she come here in the first place? She should have just stayed home, like every other night as well. “I’m sorry, I’ll just… take a coke.”

For no particular reason at all, Veronica found issue with designated drivers or at least, that is what she assumed this woman was. She could have taken a cab home if she wanted too. Or she could have stayed at home. There was no reason to be at a bar. All in all, Veronica didn’t need much reason to be annoyed, so she stared pointedly as the nozzle of soda sprayed into the glass. “Right, one coke. Here you go. Anything else or you plan on wasting my time the rest of the night?” 

          Olivia arched her brows at the proposition, looking up at the other. “Are you sure?” She couldn’t remember ever being offered samples at a place like this one. “Uh – I mean, if you offer it like that, I won’t say no. Always good to try a few brands to figure out what you like.”

Veronica mindlessly wiped away water ringlets with a rag as the question reached her ears. “Yeah, boss wants us to bring out the best.” She wouldn’t sugarcoat her marketing, it was too much effort. Though she withheld the samples she’d bring were the most expensive brands the bar stocked. Veronica would settle even if the woman chose the cheapest of the bunch. “Go ahead and give these a try, I’ll get you which ever one you like best.”  

People left him alone here, discouraged by other movie goers if they made too much noise, whispered too much, his headphones helped too. Kaiden had learnt to lip read pretty early on in his life, but he didn’t bother too much whenever he grabbed a ticket for whatever three week old movie might have been showing. He was mostly just happy to have two hours to himself most of the time. Though it seemed today wasn’t the case, the nudge that didn’t let up and pushed into the back of the seat he’d chosen indication enough that someone already wanted to bother him for whatever reason. Pulling his headphones off to hang around his shoulders, he lent forward just enough to look back at the… girl. She was fucking tiny. “Yes.” He stated easily enough, her annoyance not quite clicking just yet. “I always sit here. It’s the best place to sit.” Between the placement of the speakers and the screen itself, it was never a question of where he wanted to sit. He always knew. 

The nonchalant answer as it slipped simply from his lips left her speechless, brows raising as her level of annoyance heighten. She’d spent actual money on this; to enjoy this. “Are you fucking kidding me?” It was repeated, again the idea that the theater was completely barren except for the pair seemed comedic at best. “I know it’s the best place to sit, that’s why I sat here.” She motioned to the screen and her placement, as well as his ridiculous height that blocked her view. “You’re completely in the way, I was here first. Move, dude.”  

“Do..– Do I have a problem?” He must have been staring, he always hated when it seemed as such. The sharp words of the woman seemingly throwing him off guard a little as he looked towards the ground, adjusting the wraps around his hands as if there’d been something wrong with them; though he knew there wasn’t. “No.. No, I mean, I don’t. But you might soon..—” He said almost cautiously. He didn’t want her to hurt herself, and by the looks of things, she was headed right for a broken thumb and a displaced knuckle, neither of which would be all too helpful with someone that held that kind of rage. “You’re gonna’ hurt yourself if you keep it up like that.”

Veronica wanted to pull immediately from her defenses, a safety-net; protection from embarrassment as her arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the man who fiddled with the wraps around his hands. Gaze now preoccupied instead of burning holes, but she held her tongue from slinging insults. “Yeah, and what do you care?” The throbbing had already begun to subside, but she still rubbed away the lingering pain in her thumb. “You work here or something?” 

Coming to the Mystic Dragon wasn’t something that Mason particularly wanted to do, knowing that Connor worked here some nights. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to run into his brother, but he wasn’t quite ready to have another heart to heart conversation with him. But there wasn’t a wide selection of bars in the small town, and so he found himself sat at the counter, hands wrapped around the staling beer. Looking up at the request, Mason blanked for a moment before leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, can I get a shot of Whiskey?”

The Mystic Dragon saw all sorts of patrons. Veronica, for the most part, never took in the details but every once in awhile she caught a glimpse. “Yeah, sure…” This one in particular, seemed lost to say the least, at least that had been her interpretation. She placed the glass of whiskey in front of him, careful not the splash the liquid over the edge. “..you good, man?”

“I don’t think it makes a difference who fucked it up at this point,” Dylan commented nonchalantly as he shovelled a forkful of the questionably edible dish into his mouth. “But fuck it, I got an iron stomach and I’m hungry, so I don’t really give a shit.” He watched Roni help herself to his now apparently communal liquor cupboard through narrowed eyes, projecting a huff when she opted to drink straight from the bottle. “Better hope your parole officer doesn’t come knockin’, aren’t you supposed to be sober or some shit when you come out of jail?” He raised his eyebrows at the brunette, anticipating a sarcastic reply. “Me? Oh you know, the usual. Woke up, got high enough to function, did some jobs and drop offs and now I’m babysitting your whiny ass.”

“It does, if it was you.” Veronica said accusingly, not that she was any better at cooking. At least, if she wasn’t attempting wholeheartedly. The alcohol burned her empty stomach as she made her way back over to the couch, sinking back easily into its cushions. “What? Did you tell Mr. Wiggins where you lived shithead? He’ll bust you for association before he busts me.” She laughed before taking another swig, continuing. “You think I’d get caught out after curfew anyways? That shit ended a couple months ago.” A yawn took over, tiredness finally taking hold as the anger she felt earlier subsided. “You wouldn’t have answered the door if you didn’t want to deal with my whiny ass.”  

The minimal effort Sierra shared during the holidays was clear. It wasn’t like she hated it but it simply wasn’t her favorite time of the year. Always has been since a young girl, knowing memories with Camilla were never her favorite to possess. The remainder of her mother was far more bitter than sweet, knowing their challenging relationship frightened Sierra one too many times - even though she never vocalized such thought. After having dinner with her siblings, one she was simply late to, Sierra needed to unwind. Mystic Dragon was the place for her. Kept her from tackling the unfamiliar Georgia winters, wishing to be in Los Angeles already. Finishing off another Navy Grog, feeling the liquor starting to course through her system before catching a glance at the patron. Instantly perking up at the sight of Roni, a wicked grin spread upon her petals, “Another one Navy Grog, duh.” Instant words escaping her lips, arms resting on the counter before a brow raised. “Where’s my trouble? I’m getting sick and tired of these fucking goodie two-shoes. Yawn. I feel like I’m giving in Bethesda Retirement Center,” Blunt response, only for her dark hues to roll their eyes instantly. “Please tell me your life has been far more entertaining. If not, hand me that bottle of vodka, not like I’m going to pay for it, but I don’t need to hear any sob stories.”

Sierra was a familiar face, one that brought a smile along, but Veronica kept her features steady as she set the tray down. She usually left the drink making up to the bartenders, but she was capable, having done so in a pinch plenty time before. “You ever get sick of these things?” She asked, twisting the glasses around preparing the concoction. “You better take that fucking trouble to the retirement center, bitch. I swear to god if I have to clean up your mess or if anything gets taking out of my pay check I’m hunting you down.” She held her lips tightly before finally breaking into a grin, though her tone held seriousness. Fun and games were nice, until the safety of her rent was threatened. It was difficult enough getting this job in the first place. “You touch this bottle of vodka without me seeing a hundred-dollar bill first and I’m going to cut off your hands.”

“Well it all depends on what they have to say,” he cocked his head side to side as if mildly considering the notion. He wasn’t a completely reckless individual when compared to the majority of his fellow gang members; set in his ways sure, but not quite so youthful and foolish anymore. Or perhaps Connor had simply been born middle-aged. “Mystic Dragon does. Clearly their standards are bottom of the barrel.” After all when one considered just how many Reapers they hired and their usual clientele, it became difficult to not tar them with a similar black brush. “It’s not voluntarily.” A glance was spared in the direction Harlow disappeared to, still saying her goodbyes and probably becoming far more handsy than he cared to witness. “Me neither, though I guess that’s probably because we work opposing shifts.”

Veronica nodded, her own mindset operated almost entirely oppositely. Emotions feverously boiled to push her selfishly preserve her own feelings first. In the heat of the moment, she rarely took anyone else’s mindset into consideration. “Bottom of the barrel, sure—Or there’s something going on under the table.” Maybe not her place to say, especially as an outcast but it slipped from her lips nonetheless. “Oh yeah, Sorry. Probably. I don’t usually pay attention.” Despite the overtime she ended up working, Veronica tended to zone out during her shifts, paying almost no attention to co-workers and customers alike. “Who are you here with?”

Cassidy didn’t really know how she ended up at the nightclub. She remembered dealing with a rude client while building their house, and then she was in the club dancing around with a few people. She needed to let go of some steam and this time dancing was her pick. She was currently taking a break at a table when a waitress walked up to her. “Yeah, can I get another glass of whiskey actually?” she asks her. 

Veronica had seen the woman dancing on the floor, not that she made it a habit to watch out for the patrons within the club. It just happened every so often. “Yeah, sure.” Before she stepped away, she paused. “You going to get up and dance again? You may want to watch your drink…” She stacked another glass onto her tray. The Mystic Dragon wasn’t known for it’s upstanding clientele.

It was no big surprise that Ryker would spend his nights off at the same bar he worked at. Cheap drinks would draw anyone in, after all. And Ryker got them as cheap as they could be without simply being free. The question drew his attention, but it was the familiarity of the woman that held it. “Roni, there’s a lot you could get me, but a round of shots will do for now.”

If there was one thing Roni would never understand about Ryker, it was why he insisted on returning to the Mystic Dragon on his nights off. No amount of cheapen whiskey would drag Veronica back in. Her relationship with the establishment was far too tarnished. Her dedication to the gang that tossed her aside left her observation and she returned with what she remembered to be his favorite. “Oh yeah? Elaborate. What else can I do to waste time? I’d rather not deal with those dumbasses over there.”