#f2f.all

WHO: sam evans & bree brown @basicallybree​

WHEN: 10/31, late late evening

WHERE: The Maggie, eventually bree’s place

Sam ignored the throbbing at his knuckles, hissing only slightly when he placed the dried glasses on the stack with the other clean set. All things considered, he was in relatively good shape. The fight hadn’t last long and he managed to come out on the right side of it, with only a sore hand for his trouble. He’d worry about the rest of it and the gossip that was sure to follow tomorrow. The last of the patrons were clearing out and soon he would be too. He was ready for the night to be over; he was keyed up and needed to decompress from the evening’s weird tension. The glasses were clean, the tables were back in order, and he was wiping down the bar top when he spotted Bree. He’d been surprised to see her out for the evening, and aside from pouring her drinks hadn’t really seen much of her. But nearly everyone else was gone or leaving and she seemed to be alone. “Hey,” he called to her, hanging up the rag and making his way over. “Are you good?”

Lauren shuffled through the front entrance of Sam’s apartment building, smiling briefly at the kind soul who held the door for her. She’d been lucky to find a parking space so close, and she made her way to Sam’s place. Her grip tightened on the groceries bags she carried, one in each hand, her mouth set in a determined line. With her evening free and open, she felt like cooking and that meant hitting up the one person who promised her unlimited kitchen access whenever she wanted. Of course, this had been before their...disagreement. She could admit she’d reacted out of anger and Sam had caught heat from it. And she wasn’t entirely sure what else was happening, only catching bits and pieces of the drama that his name had been tossed in, but she still considered him important to her...even if she was annoyed. But now she was at his front door, and hoping he was home. Shifting the groceries to one hand, she knocked with the answer, pondering exactly how bold it was to just borrow someone’s whole kitchen without actually talking to them. But she was nowhere near that kind of rude (damn those southern sensibilities), so she at least waited for Sam to open the front door before greeting him with a simple “Evening” and shouldering her way into his apartment. “I felt like cooking tonight. Where’s your cutting board? You’re on chopping duty.”

Cup still in hand, she wandered to the patio out back, the cool air a welcome change from the hot chaos inside. She pulled out her phone and opened up the camera, to snap some selfies because she looked fly and figured the moment needed to be remembered. Her gaze drifted and she smiled at the familiar figured emerging through the back door and out onto the patio. “Hiya. Get in here, we’re taking cute pics.”

WHO: sam evans & (OPEN)

WHEN: 10/31, evening

WHERE: The Maggie

WARNINGS: alcohol, drinking

The last place Sam wanted to be was the one place that absolutely needed him. There was no way he could leave the Halloween crowd to just the lone bartender. Marie was out for the night, leaving Sam with the new hire, a kid that graduated a few years after him whose name he couldn’t remember (It was Terry or Barry), but grimaced every time the younger guy so much as picked up a glass. He’d managed to break at least two already and the night was still young. So he sent him around to buss tables (and hopefully not clean his family’s business out of glasses), while he tackled the bar. It was crowded because Halloween was always crowded and Sam’s movements were fluid as he poured and mixed, keeping the drinks flowing and crowd moving steadily. Ideally, things would’ve been easier with Quinn, but Quinn was apparently off finding her fucking self or whatever it was rich people did when they longer needed to play blue collar, so it was up to him. 

The energy in the air at The Maggie was...hard to read. There was karaoke and patrons decked out in costumes, talking loudly over the singing that ranged from decent to ear-splitting and Sam had no idea how Ronnie, the karaoke guy managed to tolerate any of that shit, because at least he had the customers and cocktails to distract him from noise. But at least Ronnie wasn’t stuck with small talk. And Sam had gotten a few looks when he made sure to point out the sign behind the bar that read ‘No Gossip, No Bullshit Talk’ whenever someone tried to start up a conversation about the news that still kept Castleport in a tight hold. He didn’t care, though. The bar was supposed to be a spot for all, and the last thing he wanted was that shit disturbing the vibe. If someone had a problem, they knew where the exit was. He’d just refilled a bunch of drafts for some college-aged kids when a familiar face sidled up to the bar. “Let me get these to the jackasses dressed like Ninja Turtles and I’ll be right back,” he said, sliding the glasses towards the Turtles and pocketing the money before turning back. “What’re you drinking tonight?”

Thank goodness for hotel bars. And a very lax policy on checking IDs, because while Lauren had the fake stashed in her clutch (far enough away from her real one to avoid mix-ups), she hadn’t needed it. Not yet, anyway. It was packed, surprising for the evening, but she managed to find a seat right at the bar. She didn’t know what brought on the idea, getting dressed up and heading downstairs but the strappy heels and short, fitted black dress seemed to be in her favor, judging from the drink that appeared in front of her not even five minutes after she sat down.

Lauren glanced at the bartender, who nodded in the direction of a guy at the other end of the bar, sporting a suit and looking like he was about to come over and nope. Briefly she cursed at herself, thinking she should’ve dragged Mercedes down with her, because drinking alone always seemed to be a homing beacon for these kinds of awkward ass situations and encounters. 

She pushed the highball glass aside, hoping that would be enough for him to get the hint and instead ordered herself a rum and Coke, further twisting her body away from the man, still hoping to nab her attention but it was now focused on a familiar and handsome face entering  the bar. Painted lips stretched into a smile and she waved Sebastian over, thankful when the guy caught on to her dismissal and finally turned away, leaving her to greet her friend properly. “Hey there. Glad I don’t have to sit here alone all night.” 

WHAT: “Oh wow, that was unnecessary.”

WHEN: 6/15, afternoon

WHERE: Knights Park

Knights Park was a hive of activity, people milling around, soaking up the sun and the generally happy atmosphere that was common with Pride activities. It was Sam first time attending such an event--at least in Castleport--and it was nice to see the town’s enthusiasm for any kind of holiday extend to pride month. The bright colors, rainbow decor, and positive feeling was a pleasant switch up from the past public events, and Sam was hoping it’d stay that way. 

He nodded a few people he knew while grabbing a drink, sticking to bottled water when his attention focused on a voice over a loudspeaker. There, under a vibrant banner, boasting the name of Clarington Properties was a dunk tank and Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He’d seen the article in the Gazette and figured it was both the paper and the Clarington’s attempt at winning some good faith. 

So far--to his annoyance--it seemed to be working. There was a sizeable crowd around the dunk tank...most likely people taking advantage of a chance to literally topple one of Castleport’s elite. No telling how Hunter had been roped into the madness, but Sam was sure, judging from the cheap shot in the paper about him being a ‘proud part’ of the community, it wasn’t exactly willing. The cheers rising from the crowd meant someone had hit their target and Sam could picture Hunter’s tight scowl and he might’ve laughed a little at the thought. He was still bothered, but he could at least say hello. The crowd had thinned and he found Hunter behind the dunk tank, in a curtained off section and he picked up a fluffy rainbow-patterned towel and tossed it at his friend. “Wow. Well that was unnecessary. There’s gotta be an easier way to cool down in this heat.” 

WHO: Sam Evans & Ryder Lynn ( @goldenchildlynn ) 

WHAT: Oh you know, just hanging out in a locked woodshed in the cold, nbd

WHERE: Clarington Cabin woodshed

WHEN: Late Saturday night, 1/26

The sudden silence and darkness that followed the muted pop in the loss of power was eerie, when only seconds before, the main floor was filled with the sounds of people talking and music playing. “Shit,” Sam muttered, setting down his bottle of beer on the coaster atop the coffee table and getting to his feet. Outside was just as dark as the cabin’s interior, and Sam was silently glad he’d thought to charge his phone earlier. He pulled it out then, squinting when the screen’s light came on, eyes already adjusting to the darkness and frowned when he noticed the low signal for service, and the even lower temperature. The momentary surprise had given away to questions and some slight disarray and Sam felt kind of useless just sitting there. 

Briefly, he wondered if the cabin had some kind of backup generator, but wandering around in the dark for it didn’t seem like fun at all. The wood shed, however, that would probably be their best bet. Maybe a flashlight and definitely wood for a fire, put the massive fireplace to good use and get him moving around. “How about we get a fire going? Least we won’t freeze while they figure out what’s up with the power?” Carefully, and by phone light, he grabbed his coat from the hall and tugged it on with his hat and gloves, his covered hand coming in contact with someone’s arm and he jumped. “Damn! Sorry about that, I didn’t---wait, Ryder? I’m going out to get wood from the shed to build a fire while they check the power. Wanna come help?”

WHO: Sam Evans & Finn Hudson ( @castleporthudson )

WHAT: catching up. (mentions of alcohol/drinking)

WHERE: The Maggie

WHEN: late evening; 3/09

It didn’t take long to locate Finn; the Castleport police station was only but so big, and with the time it took for them to leave and make it down to The Maggie on foot, Sam hadn’t missed much of the Celtics game he’d been half-paying attention to before leaving his dad’s house. Getting out seemed to be the best idea for both of them. Finn’s current frustration was easy to pick up on and Sam was sure a night off from the station would do him some good. 

Besides, he’d needed to check in on the bar anyway. Tonight, like any other Saturday in the small seaside town, The Maggie was packed but Sam moved easily through the tables, Finn not too far behind as they approached two empty stools right at the bar. “I did say first round was on me,” he reminded Finn with a brief smile, catching the attention of Marie behind the bar and signaling at his draft of choice on tap. “What’re you drinking? And it better not be Red Bull.”