#boneyardplotdrop

where:  the  weiss  wedding  reception,  cocktail  hour

who:  open  !

dominique  leans  against  a  wall,  people  watching  from  a  distance.  she  is  quite  the  social  butterfly  herself,  but  she  is  waiting  to  find  the  perfect  prey.  sipping  on  her  champagne,  cat-like  eyes  dart  across  the  room  to  analyze  each  of  the  guests.  it's  like  all  of  vegas  is  in  attendance  and  considering  the  kind  of  pull  that  the  weiss  family  has,  well,  she  wouldn't  be  surprised…

throwing  back  the  rest  of  her  drink,  she  places  the  glass  on  a  nearby  table.  contemplating  her  next  move,  dom  bites  on  her  lower  lip  as  she  makes  her  way  over  to  the  open  bar  to  order  something  with  a  little  more  of  a  kick.  she  steps  up  and  orders  something  strong  but  simple  –  vodka  soda,  only  for  someone  to  end  up  tapping  on  her  shoulder.

“oh  shit!  did  i  cut  you?”  she  flashes  the  other  a  smile.  “my  bad…  here  ya  go,”  she  nods  towards  the  bartender,  “here,  take  ‘em  first..  i  didn’t  realize.”

date: march 20, 1997

@boneyardstarters

Walker stared at his bike with an expression that could only be described as annoyance mixed with a soft reluctance, he knew the thing was on it last legs but her didn’t want to let the old girl go just yet. Having been the bike he had when he joined the cats and met some of the most important people in his life, he was stupidly sentimental some would say. He had another bike, one much younger and better some would say but he didn’t think so- it didn’t have the memories attached to it that his original did. With another annoyed sigh he stood, wiping the grease from his hands with his tank top not really caring about the thing ( it was covered in the stuff anyways ). Baby blues flashing up toward the face turned toward him he gave a crooked little grin and a shrug, leaning heavily on his charms. "She wouldn't start and I love her what can I say."

Sweat drips down his face, falling along his neck to pitter patter down his chest. The top buttons of his plaid shirt opened to expose a somewhat hairy chest. Spencer is dressed almost like a cowboy in black jeans, black boots, and a purple plaid shirt that makes him stand out a bit too much. But he loves dressing like a cowboy. The rodeo was always something that he looks forward to. Ready to dress to impress whether then trying to blend in. He should’ve skipped the event considering he just lost his brother. He didn’t though. Finding a night out on town being a grieving process for the music teacher. He honestly thinks he didn’t even shed a tear. He wasn’t close to Franco. So why should he mourn him? Somewhere deep down he did, but Spencer wanted to have fun and forced himself to ignore the slight ache he felt at the idea of losing so many that he cared for. He cared for Franco. Just found it difficult to mourn him.

Like many people who mourn or grieve differently, Spencer has been at the rodeo events for the pass couple of hours. He almost went to all the events like he had planned on and decided to make his last stop for the evening at the Doll House. It has been going great. The music playing was flowing through the building and sending Spencer in a lustful feeling that made his body sway to the beat. Not only was the music good, it certainly helped that the singer was hot.

So hot that he found himself to push a little closer against the barricade that separates Spencer from getting any closer. Trying to break down the invisible privacy the guy has while on stage. He pushes his body further up the barricade. But he’s still too far away. He’s not in hands reach and well Spencer doesn’t have to be since the singer is coming to him.

Oh shit.

He was getting closer and well Spencer holds a wide grin on his face that nearly takes half his features. He can’t help it. All he can focus on is the guy and how equally sweaty hot he looks like. He can’t help the flush blush that comes across face. They mere inches away from the each other at this point. He can’t believe how close the guy is now. He can feel his breath. The country singer has Spencer’s complete attention now. He doesn’t realize the vibe I the room was changing or how chaos seems tomorrow break out.

He only knows something is wrong when he’s forcibly turned around to face someone. All he could say is “what?” In an anger voice because he was turned aszg from his future husband. He’s so mad that he barely realizes his drink is tossed from his hand. How dare this person pull him from his dream guy? “What you need better be good.”

The rodeo always brought in a huge crowd to the Cupid's Arrow. Wolfgang was celebrating his third year of working at the bar, and regulars, friends, and co-workers had all turned out to celebrate. While usually a server, floating around the bar, the owners had him stationed behind bar tonight, dishing out the signature drink - the rodeo clown - as a guest tender. Wolf had dressed the part, more or less; he was wearing his brown boots, a pair of dark blue jeans, a matching cowboy hat, and - of course - a brown leather harness across his otherwise bare chest.

The bar was packed, the music was high and energetic, and a large, muscle-bound bartender named Spike was waving from his seat in the dunk tank. Wolf looked up as another patron approached him at the bar. "Why, hello there!" he said with a bright smile. "Happy rodeo days. Can I get you anything? If you get a 'rodeo clown,' you get to ring the bell. But I won't tell you what's in the drink or what happens when you ring the bell."

where: glitter gulch lounge

jibril stares at the mechanical bull in front of him, watching as other patrons try and fail to stay on it. they've never seen this sort of ride in person, only ever heard of it, so this was new to them. from what they could tell, the objective was staying on for a certain period of time. jibril had never considered himself one to back down from a challenge, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity.

he looks at one of the people in the crowd, making sure he understands the purpose of the ride. "so...is there some kind of prize for if you don't get thrown off?" they ask, voice soft with a little hesitance. "have you ever ridden one of these before? is it hard?"

The night had been a blast so far, bouncing around the various bars in Vegas, and now they found themselves at the Glitter Gulch. Someone had bought Graham a shot, which he had surprised even himself by taking, and now he was lined up in pigsty with three others and a lasso in his hand. The next moments were a blur, but an airhorn sounded and he was swinging the lasso through the air. Within moments, and to a huge roar from the crowd, he had hooked a pig and it was in the process of trying to pull away from him. Hand over hand, he pulled the pig closer and closer in, a huge smile on his face even as mud trekked its way up his jeans.

But then a flash appeared overhead, and Graham knew - he knew in his soul - what it was. Suddenly he was three years back, in the desert with old friends... and it was terrifying. His sight went pure white as a beam of light drew his attention up. His jaw and hands went slack. The rope flew from his hands as the hog he had lassoed escaped forward with a squeal, and he slowly raised a hand to point at the sky.

"Uh," he stammered. "What -- what is that?!"

rodeos weren’t a thing lauryn attended. in fact, she’d never been to a rodeo before, but it reminded her of the times when she would go to coney island. or just to central park to spend a day there. sure, it was a big city like vegas, but it felt like a small town, seeing these businesses come together and make something unique and fun. she was dressed her very best for the occasion, an all denim ensemble with cowboy boots and the hat to match. but something she knew, was dancing. sunday morning clean ups in the nears home made for a family bonding that always seemed to end up in dancing around the living room and singing into brooms. she had music in her life again, but in a different way. cosmix was something she loved, let's be real. she loved coming up with melodies and figuring out slant rhymes that would make jay-z proud. but at times, she missed just singing and dancing for the fun of it. she had those moments with the girls, but they were few and far between. she found herself in the burlesque club, sipping on a homemade lemonade and watching the dancers, trying to maneuver her feet the same way the more competent dancers did. these cowboy, west coast line dances were something that lauryn wasn’t used to. sure, it had been a few years since she properly danced, but she wasn’t afraid to try. settling down her lemonade, she turns to a person sitting at a nearby table. “join me for a dance? or are you one of the ones with two left feet who can’t keep a tune?” her tone is playful as she tips her hat towards them and extends a hand.