#open.starter

Just as is her Sunday ritual, a cold, 32 oz bottle of Modelo sweats in her hand inside the crumbled paperbag, and a few gin shooters clink in her pocket as she sits on the curb. The bag from In-N-Out still smells like grilled onions and a greasy burger, and she pulls a french fry from the bag, comfortable with sitting her ass right outside Lost Spirits to enjoy.

It's her birthday, but the thoughts drifts more like background noise to her. Forty three isn't a milestone, so what she thinks more of is the second birthday in a row away from her family. The second one where she's in a town that still doesn't quite feel like hers, no matter what streets she's memorized, and how many businesses she's become a regular at.

She's not devastated by the idea, it's more of a matter of fact as she sips from the bottle, her eyes watching cars pass by. She leans back on her palms, smiling under the neon light of the sign that paints her in blue.

"Happy birthday to me," she murmurs to no one in particular. When she sees a figure, she does pull one of her shooters out and asks, "Want to do a shot with me? If you didn't drive here, I mean."

with all the vibrant excitement swirling around the announcement of the season's diamond and sparkling bachelor, selena finch was quite ready to return to the uninterrupted quiet. she pulled the string of her bow taut and lined the arrow to sink into the hay target more than 50 feet away. she pulled another arrow from the quiver planted into the ground at her side when that precious silence was interrupted by encroaching footsteps. "if you've interest in testing your agility, I have been craving a moving target."

"I got this henna yesterday after I was in the beer garden and five beers deep."

Which is precisely when he shouldn't be making any decisions, but Dec holds his arm out where the stretch of something is drawn in a red-brown from wrist to elbow.

Robbie pulls a weathered plastic fork from the sand, wearing a rather placid look for stumbling upon his version of a crime scene.

“Another one,” he mutters, dropping it into his bag with exaggerated disgust. "It's barely the start of the season!" He sifts through and wanders a couple more feet down the boardwalk until he catches what he thinks is someone watching him.

he's fast, but not quite fast enough to catch the leash slipping through his fingers. the dog darts faster than his three legs can keep up, bumbling on concrete. it's cute, but there's something about the grey hairs in his muzzle that suggest perhaps one should stop him. when he finally does come to a stop, eli is on his tail (haha).

Hamlet’s mind tended to wander as his thoughts pulled him from reality. This was his 4th beer and going on his second shot of tequila. He paid with one of his visa cards that he deposited money on and would toss after exiting the country. The bartender would occasionally try to make small talk with him, but Hamlet would respond with one-liners in hopes of being left alone. The bar wasn’t crowded, just as he wanted, and he’d been able to drown out the sounds of others around him with whatever shitty bar music was blaring over the loudspeaker. After he finished his beer, he quickly ordered another round for himself along with another shit of tequila. Hamlet swallowed the tequila like it was nothing, as the ‘nasty taste’ people often described was no longer a problem for him. He could finally feel the familiar head buzz coming on, taking a deep breath at the soothing feeling beginning to rush over his body and ease at his mind. That’s when Hamlet noticed the familiar face standing next to him, an immediate chuckle following the realization. “Sorry, my boyfriend is in the bathroom but he’ll be out soon. If you’re looking for someone, the bartender has been trying to talk my ear off. I’m sure you’ll get along quite nicely.” Hamlet teased before taking a giant swig of his beer. “What brings you here? Kinda random, don’t ya think?”

who: anyone !! (open)

when: 10:17 a.m., february 18

Juggling an overstuffed tote bag and a tall mug filled to the brim with matcha tea, Zora skillfully tugged out her key ring and unlocked the door to Z’s. She cleared a space on the cluttered counter for her drink and returned to the door, wedging a painted wooden doorstop underneath it. She’d putt off buying a real “open/closed” sign, instead opting for a fitting “sorry we’re stoned.” The open door was her way of communicating to the residents of Charming that she was open for business-- even if it was mostly the cats who came and went. 

As the sole owner, Zora also took on the role of stocker. Thankfully, there was no real rhyme or reason to the shop, so “stocking” really meant just finding a cranny for new wares. She’d spent a lonely evening pricing a new shipment of crystals and drinking. 

Hearing footsteps at the door, Zora turned on her heel. “Morning,” she smiled, making her way to the front of the shop. “Anything I can help you find?” 

It was funny how even after spending all day in the studio, the moment she clocked out all Alice wanted to do was dance. Tonight she was at The Outlaw, a usual spot for her. It was fun since the music they played here wasn’t anything they’d ever listen to at the studio and it gave her a chance to be a little freer. After catching eyes with a stranger more than once the blonde waited for the song to end before leaving her group of friends to approach the stranger with a wide smile.

“Hey. You know you can come join us, right? We don’t bite.”