#charm.start

Was this a personal act of war or was this the end result of an obsessive man that Arabella had turned down advances to and he sought revenge ? Shiloh was too enamored in having his own fun, the last thing he expected was one of their own to get murdered. In such a public setting where eyes were everywhere. Like white on rice. He was trying not to crash out and his usual poisons were off limits due to the presence of the cops right now. So, instead he was beginning to hydrate himself with water to sober up a bit. Trying to process what happened. Trying to remain level headed. To be more cautious than the lack of it that flowed through him prior. "I swear this shit's not real. This party was supposed to be a celebration and not end up in tragedy." He mused to himself, knowing it was real but wishing otherwise as he started hearing footsteps nearby. His hand picking up another dart and throwing it at the placed dartboard hung up on an outside wall. It hitting right on the edge of the bullseye. The water was helping.

"I can't believe that old fucker pulled a turn out like this." Chuckles rumbled from Dean's lips, muffled by the glass bottle that served as the Devil on his shoulder and a kiss against his mouth. He could have used a little something stronger dusted across his finger held up to his nose, but alas. He was playing good. He was being sociable. Wouldn't they be proud? He was speaking to that on his left, untamed hair fallen out of the hair tie a long while ago. There were two broad shoulders that rose and dropped to signify the least amount of fucks in the world. It was gearing up to be a hell of a night, yeah, Dean would have to agree, but still itched for a little something else. "You wanna make it a bit more interesting though?"

　　scuffed soles found comfort on the countertop, anchored foot a crutch for the other that bounced in tune to the tinny static of the radio pumping out the seventies classic. the night the lights went out in georgia by vicki lawrence. a song about being accused of a gruesome killing. ironic given the headline plastered across the front page of the paper clutched in a loose grip. while any other person would've had their nose buried in the article, soaking in updates on the recent tragedy, jude's had been honed in on the crossword instead, focus only faltered once the melodic chime of the bell strung over the entrance drew her from her lulled concentration. a prolonged beat passed and a peek over the pages before, “ y’gotta word for a gathering of crows? ” her version of a greeting as the butt of her pen tapped along empty squares, “ six letters. ”

"I swear I am going to need a double after that pick up line." Words murmured to herself more than anyone in specific. She just had a random guy try to sway her with his best pick up line. The line in question: Would you grab my arm, so I can tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel? Carmen had half the idea to break his arm, but she didn't want to deal with the repercussions. Everyone was already on edge with the murder that had happened. "Though, if he tries to call me 'Mami' like some of his friends are pushing him to say, I swear I might lose my shit." Were they being subtle or quiet? Absolutely not. She exclaimed, groaning but knocking back the shot of Tequila that had been in front of her.