#danny001

She's sitting on the middle of Danny's coffee table as she watches her friend come down the hallway in his chosen outfit. "Danny, you cannot wear that. I told you! The vibe is maneater, and you look like you're a Virtue cutie who's never seen a bar." A dramatic sigh follows. "Change or let me rip the pants. Something needs to look distressed other than my eyes."

Where: Some Downtown industrial kitchen

There was blood in her damn hair.

Ha-Jeong leaned against the counter of the empty industrial kitchen as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Her partner in this particular cluster was heaving beside her, she had told Daniel once decades ago that this particular showcase of organ-centered exercise was highly unproductive. But after what they had just walked out of she guessed she could exercise patience.

A two target take down, both vampiric in nature. Easy. And it had been easy, until the 11 other breathless had piled in on the scene. The job was done, but it had not been the clean quick thing the brief had promised.

With a cigarette resting between her lips, she extended the box to the man next to her, running an assessing eye over him. He seemed fine, no obvious foreign wooden objects looked present. “That could have gone better.” She said, matter of factly, as she took her first breath in.

@danny-boy-becker​

Idling into an open spot outside The Dive, Sawyer killed the engine on his Softail and climbed down, stashing his helmet on one of his mirrors. Once inside the bar, it didn’t take him long to eyeball a vacant barstool and make his way over to it. Settling down onto it with a heavy sigh, the biker rested his elbows against the bartop and motioned for the bartender. “Whiskey, thanks,” he muttered, steepling his hands together over his nose and mouth so that he could smother the vile curse that leapt from the tip of his tongue. After a rough shift at the garage and yet another bullshit meeting with his parole officer, Sawyer hadn’t been able to speed to the bar fast enough, eager to wash away all the annoyances of the day. Dropping his hands back to the counter once his drink arrived, he happened to glance to the side and caught a familiar face in his periphery. Sawyer squinted, unsure at first that he was really seeing who he thought he was. Danny Becker. While he couldn’t claim to know the younger man all that well, he knew enough to be able to hold a conversation with him— even if Sawyer’s well known aversion to law enforcement made him somewhat wary to do so. Affiliated with the club or not, old habits died hard. Still, the biker pushed his characteristic smirk into place and twisted towards the other man, “Last time I saw you, ya still had the trainin’ wheels on,” Sawyer began, lifting his brows in surprise, “Now you’re a deputy?” Chuckling softly, Sawyer shook his head and let out a low whistle, “I still can’t believe they actually gave your ass a badge and a gun,” he teased, flashing Danny another wide grin.