#helldwells

this one had it rough . bulsan had mumbled to nunae when they saw the man sitting on the bench in the park ─ exhausted and bloody . bulsan and nunae's nightly strolls were done with great pleasure , darkness surrounding them . freely walking in the most dangerous neighborhoods of the city . letting oblivious men hit on them , try to get sneaky and steal or touch until they'd tear their flesh apart with bare fingers . it didn't happen as much anymore , but bulsan was still a little impatient to have someone bother them . instead , they come across this man ; and sitting either sides of him . ‘ hellooo .. you okay ? ‘ bulsan's voice is melodic , a soft stir in the darkness of midnight . and nunae already has an arm placed to the back of the bench , head tilted to catch the man's gaze with a small smile . he is slightly taller than bulsan , with sharper features . ‘ rough night , sir ? you look terrible . ‘ they purr , bulsan's warm fingers brush away a stain of blood on his cheek .

     ' the night owl '  had procured his patronage over its surrounding competition with its proximity and diminutive clientele. the business hours were arbitrary and open-ended which catered to his particular ambitions for the evening, opting to occupy a seat at the far end of the bar counter away in self-imposed isolation. the view beyond the sheets of glass surrounding the bar would've enticed any wandering eye, as was expected from its location on the top floor of the bay bridge residential hotel; to him, however, the neon graveyard was a tired sight that failed to inveigle  him into any state of admiration. the inherent exigency of the empty whiskey glass in front of him was far more worthwhile of his notice, second only to the sudden movement on his right side as the adjacent seat was no longer subject to vacancy.

@helldwells: ❝ you look lonely. i can fix that. ❞ ( soooo thinking about silverhand during his prime time while ryker is still a corpo and keeping an eye on him heh )

     twitch of a smile denoted acknowledgement of the stranger ahead of a verbal reply, lidded gaze quick to steal a glance and investigate existing suppositions. the other patron's attire and comportment was of a  certain  caliber, an  eminence  that came married with corporate rancidity; its stench was as familiar as it was distinctively deplorable. despite lacking any tangible evidence or confirmation to his working theory, the once-over alone was decidedly enough to profile his counterpart and make an educated assessment.

     ❝  spoken like a true jig-jig street regular. not all that different from them, actually: corpses and joytoys. both are willin' to bend over and be  fucked raw  by their employer if the price is right.  ❞

     wraithlike whisper from  the hand  goaded him to  glass  the unexpected visitor, to accede and temporarily  tranquilize  the urge to maim. violent fantasy fogged over immediate thought for a moment before it was banished from mind, curbed for the time being as the bartender's attention was beckoned with a  knock  of chrome knuckles against the counter. a refill was sorely needed in addition to a suitable beverage for his  esteemed  company.

     ❝  another double whiskey neat here, and a  jersey turnpike  for this compassionate boy scout. my treat.  ❞

     the bartender's bout of hesitation upon hearing the order was expected but a pointed look subsequently resolved any  doubt  of its sincerity. the recipe was straightforward: all the bar mats' residual liquor collectively wrung into a single shot glass — a mixed shooter perfectly  curated  for any  bottom-feeder.

               ❝  take it, and fuck off.  ❞

Tsk, they really do know how to annoy him, don’t they? Playing at his nerves like a guitar, which is a little appealing in its own way for not many manage to reach such achievement. He almost rolls his eyes at their words, hands inside the pockets of his jacket, features even more unamused than the usual ones he wears. ❝ You really wouldn’t like it being in there out of hatred. ❞ It is true; if he hates someone enough to remember them, to occupy his mind, they are DOOMED. They have not reached there yet. ❝ What makes you think you’re to begin with? ❞

LOUD & DEAFENING SILENCE   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ( elias ryker — @helldwells )

                 everyone is an actor in their own life. the scripts change based on what type of performance they want to give and who the audience is. it is a fact. she is no exception to this. very few know of her personal life and the one that knew her better than most is no longer around. but there's something about elias that feels familiar. something about him that she understands. their little corner boot seems almost insulated from the cacophony of the bar.

                 “so you're not a good detective? you're one of the other hundreds of corrupt pieces of shit. is that what you're saying?” her tone holds a hint of sarcasm, features shifting into a you can't be serious look. this is a habit of theirs: getting drinks after a difficult case to talk. sometimes they talk about the case or any case that comes to mind, other times they talk about nothing important. he might not work with her but she trusts him more than half of the cops in her department. if she were to get into a tough spot, elias would be the first call she'd make. he wasn't a replacement for phil ---no one could replace him--- but he was the next best thing. she knew he wasn't corrupt. she knew he was dedicated to the job just like she was. but she also knew that he was trying to get something off his chest without actually having to confess anything. something she often wishes she could do.

@helldwells

there is an annoyed huff that comes from her in response to his eye roll. "you're the one who asked for my help." nadine is quick to point out, their hands on their hips. "it's not my fault i'm not all up to date on all the fuckin'.... uh, future shit! i'm not from here!" and they still aren't entirely sure how they ended up here. but he didn't have the answers to all his own problems, let alone theirs.