#;morgan

“Had a client that was…a little too enthusiastic with the sadism,” Morgan explained in a strained voice. He was never shy about where he worked, or what he did for a living, so casual mentions of rough sex with a paying customer were not unusual for him. He felt a spike of fear at the thought of going to a hospital, but he played it off with a pained chuckle. “Nah, you know you’re the only nurse I like, Ellie.”

Kissing Booth Meme

"So you keep saying." Ellie replied, though there's no heat to the words in the least--matter of fact, she seemed a little smug. Her touch is still remarkably tender as she tends to his chest, gently dabbing antiseptic to wounds...even if they were already closing.

after what felt like days in her apartment, sierra was driving herself crazy with boredom. there wasn't much to do since the announcement, being that it felt like an icicle outside and there was no one around to talk to; or torment in sierra's case. her apartment grew colder by the second and she couldn't bare to sit in it sober. as she threw on what little protection she had from the cold, she decided to head to the bar to get some warmth in other ways.

opening the door the bar immediately felt like something from a horror movie, it was completely empty from what she could see. no bar fights, no one laughing obnoxiously loud, it was just the place sierra was looking for. "oh, hell yeah." she mumbled under her breath, beaming behind the bar to grab the first bottle she laid her eyes on. no bartenders meant no rations to be spent, perfect. as she went to go find herself a table to drown the freezing temps and the hunger building inside her, she spotted morgan in the corner. "great minds must think alike." she yelled over to him. "but this is supposed to be my me time— so." surely she wasn't insinuating for him to leave, she couldn't possibly be that rude.

          The items that were often kept in the cellar were neatly stacked just outside the trap metal door that led down into the creepy lower level to the bar. It wasn’t a rule per se, but Morgan was positive it was some sort of ‘well-known secret’ among supernatural’s that cellar’s and basements alike were HAUNTED as fuck. This one, fortunately, was guarded by a strong barrier the fallen angel that owned the bar had set up centuries ago, there wasn’t an issue with spirits, it was the living that caused more of those. 

           Thick blonde hair tied up as tight as she could get it atop her head in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up on the gray and black flannel shirt she had sported over the white tank top she was about to sport after she placed a crate of bottled liquor in her neat little wall of goods. Moe had taken it upon herself to reorganize the cellars since she was sure it hadn’t been touched in about the same amount of time it had been built, she was finding a treasure trove of ancient liquor and wines, a few she knew for a fact hadn’t been thought of in the same amount of time. She paused at the top of the stairs and straightened, glancing around as she took a drink from the bottle of water she snatched up, “Mmmf...” she hummed, swallowing her sip of water as her eyes came around upon a person rather close to her mess of the cellar’s inventory. 

             “We won’t be reopened for another few hours if you were looking to go in.” She commented, unsure if they were wishing to enter the bar or not, perhaps they simply observing her mess of things, or many arrays of things could have been true. Which made Moe a bit uneasy, simply for the fact that strangers made her as much. “Trying to get things organized before then, but it’s proving to be more troublesome than I anticipated.” It was an effort to distract and deter any possible prodding questions were there any.