Pick a line from your favorite book/movie/poem/show/song. This line is now the first line of your story.
Line chosen from: Rifftrax Twilight commentary
âIs she supposed to look... sexy? Or like sheâs wearing a rabbitâs dentures?â Peter couldnât help it when he barked out a laugh at his barmanâs quietly posed question, eyes following where the younger man was looking to spot a woman on the other side of the bar. The woman was decked out to the nines, sparkly red dress, perfectly painted lips, but Peter could see where Davis was coming from with the question, the way her lips parted slightly, showing off her teeth in an extremely unflattering way as she put on what Peter could only imagine was her best coy expression. Perhaps Peter wasnât the best judge of these things, being less than interested in women as it was, but he couldnât help but think that it was less attracting men and more warding them off.
The fact that the woman was sitting alone at the end of the bar was indication enough of that.
âSend her a drink, on the house.â Peter replied quietly, a pang of sympathy for another lonely soul overriding his desire to sit and shit talk patrons with his favorite employee. Davis didnât offer much in the way of reply besides a slightly lifted eyebrow and a shrug before wandering off to mix rabbit lady up something tasty. Perhaps it was his bleeding heart, that thing that daddy had always tried to help him harden, that had caused that sudden feeling to wash over him watching the woman. Perhaps he simply understood what it felt like to sit alone at the end of a bar and drink alone, waiting for someone to sit and offer to share one with him. She wasnât an unattractive woman, any more than Peter was an unattractive man, but in that moment, they shared that deep seeded feeling of melancholy that came with another night of drinking alone.
He didnât have long to sit and stew in the bitter feeling, however, as the door opened behind him with a loud bang, and his eyebrow lifted slightly as he twisted to see what the commotion was.  People tended to know better than to drag their dramatics into his bar. They knew to keep it outside, in the back alley. Recognition hit him, however, and he met eyes with the two men dragging a third, stumbling and struggling one between them. His eyes cut immediately to the door to the left, the hallway leading back to his office, before turning his attention back to Davis, to the patrons, who all seemed to be confused and annoyed by the interruption of their calm night of drinking. Clearing his throat, Peter stood from his usual stool. âWell.â Clapping his hands together, he watched as eyes drew to him, likely expecting some kind of explanation. Instead, he simply said, âDavis, a round for everyone on the house.â as cheerfully as possible before leaving the bar and disappearing behind the door after the men.
He could hear the sounds of whispered argument before he even opened his office door, though the voices fell away when he walked in and moved around the desk, sitting in his chair without sparing a glance to the man who had been forced into a chair opposite his and was being held firmly by the shoulders by the two goons. The manâs hair was tangled and matted, something brown with a tinge of red. Heâd been roughed up pretty badly to get him here. Peter let the uncomfortable silence fill the room for a while before finally speaking, leaning forward on his elbows on the desk. âMr. Lodgston. Youâve killed four of my best men.â The other man defiantly refused to look up at him, but Peter didnât let it bother him. Simply tilted his head a bit. âName one good reason I shouldnât order my men to kill you right here and now.âÂ
A snort left the man, one that had Peterâs eyebrow lifting slightly, watching as the kid finally lifted his chin, looking him dead in the eye. âMaybe because only bitches let people do their dirty work for them. Kill me yourself, Lopez, or donât waste my time.âÂ
Insolent little shit. Peterâs lips pulled back, showing off his teeth, but it couldnât be called a smile by any stretch of the imagination. âFunny, youâre the one at a disadvantage here, and youâre still throwing out pithy one-liners. That why they keep you around over there? Your pithy little one-liners?â
Peter had been trained to keep his cool, to never let things break that cool and calculated facade. He was usually extremely talented at doing so, but this fucking kid... Peter watched it happen like it was slow-motion. The kid reared back enough and then spit in his face, and Peter, well Peter came flying over the desk without second thought, fist connecting with the kids face, hard. He felt a satisfying crack under his knuckle, and he paid no mind to his goons as he threw another punch. It landed like the first, but as his fist connected with skin, he felt a sharp pain flare to life in his side, causing everything to stop for a moment. Another one, right beside that first, flaring to life, this time feeling a little deeper, and it was then that Peter realized that Tate had stabbed him. His idiot goons hadnât gotten all of the kids weapons off him, or he was smart enough to finger one off one of the idiots. Either way, Peter fell off the kid as his hand reached up to clutch at his side, letting out a hard hiss through his teeth. He had no doubt, based on the crazed look in Tateâs eyes, that he would have gone for another few jabs, would have tried to land a killing one, had the goons not grabbed him and dragged him back out of the room. He hoped they left his god damned body rotting in the dumpster out back.
His vision started to go spotty and by the time his office door burst open and Davis was kneeling beside him, his breathing felt labored. Davis was saying something, but Peter wasnât paying a damn bit of attention to him, only thinking about how he definitely couldnât go to the hospital. He cut Davis off mid-rant, holding his hand up despite the screaming pain it caused his side, hissing out softly. âDoctor. Get me a god-damned doctor and make it a fucking discreet one.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod- Iâm a Believer by Smash Mouth, All Star also by Smash Mouth, Walking on the Sun, once again by Smash Mouth. Basically, Davis loves Smash Mouth.the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep â where theyâre not supposed to- He only fell asleep once in an empty bathtub with all of his clothing on, but no one ever seems to let him live it down, and in his defense, he was completely smashed at the time.the game theyâd destroy everyone else at- Beer Pong.the emoticon theyâd use most often- The middle finger emoji.what they act like when they havenât had enough sleep- Dead to the world. Davis does not acknowledge anyone or anything. He is basically sleeping where he stands, but with his eyes open and looking vaguely lost and confused.their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.- He would never admit it out loud, nor would he let anyone who found out live, but Davis is a sucker for Pumpkin Spice Lattes.how they like to comfort/care for themselves when theyâre in a slump- Excessively punching anything and everything that he can. Davis is a very... fighty man.what they wanted to be when they grew up- A professional boxer. He curses his genetics for growing up so smol. their favorite kind of weather- He likes the rain. Itâs cliche and stupid, but he likes the sound of it against the roof and the cozy atmosphere it provides. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)- He can sing, not too badly at that, but he refuses to sing out loud. He gets extremely self conscious.how/what they like to draw or doodle- Davis doesnât draw or doodle. At most, you might get a squiggly line when heâs trying to get a pen to work.
The new year was inching closer and closer, the ticking clock on the wall ticking off the seconds before midnight would strike and the world would turn over. At least, thatâs how Davisâ mother had always described the new year. The world turning over, settling into a new position. It had never really been a big deal in the Whitfield house, and Davis still didnât think it was such a big deal, but he was staying awake for once, actually making it to midnight instead of just slipping off into sleep and waking up to the new world order that the new year never brought.
This year, he had a reason to stay awake. Kissing at midnight was supposed to be a big deal, and while he wouldnât put much in it, he assumed that Sorin would, and he wouldnât deny that man anything he asked for.
Davis managed to keep himself busy by taking down the Christmas tree, pulling off the ornaments carefully and wrapping them, twisting the string lights off the branches with a few hitches when they tangled. Occasionally he would glance over at Sorin and offer him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, though he wondered if the man was even paying attention to him.Â
âI can feel you worrying from over here, ya know.â He finally offered as he managed to grab the star from the top of the tree, wrapping it and tossing it in the box beside him. âWanna talk about it?â He had a feeling he knew what the worry was, where it was coming from. Didnât mean he really understood it. Felix was a big boy, but Sorin was bound to worry in spite of that, so it seemed pointless to tell him not to worry. âOr do you wanna talk about something else to get your mind off it?â Didnât mean he wouldnât try to make the man feel better in any way he could.
