#pxrolee

Cal was quiet for a moment, trying to compose himself, something he was never good at to begin with. It was worse now with his fucking werewolf disease, or that's how he thought of it.

"Fabi.... I-I went back lookin' for ya. Like I always did. No one would tell me nothin' except the police carted you off." He feels so guilty. "Every time I went to the station, they called the foster dick heads on me and sent me back.... At least til they moved me outta state. I still tried though...."

The man with the biggest, saddest brown eyes anyone's ever seen before walks into the bar. He has to duck to get through the door he's so ridiculously tall and rail thin like he hasn't had a proper meal his whole life. He's got the look of a man who hasn't slept well either, dark circles under those big, hopelessly sad brown eyes.

Maybe that sadness would let him blend in at the bar any other time, but the way that he just stands in the doorway with that same sad look whispers that he's out of place. He's alone and he's out of place.

On days when it was storming badly enough Rory didn't bother to open the store. Today though there was just a light drizzle hanging in the air and adding to the gloom of the sky. Turning the sign to open, he gazed up at the clouds and sighed. The week itself had been pretty slow, he was hoping for a sunnier weekend.

Moving back to sit behind the counter on his stool, Rory took a sip of his coffee before picking up a project he brought out with him. It had been awhile since he hand sewed anything, and he was giving it a try again with a small teddy bear.

"I'm laughin' at yer bad taste." Cal teases. He falls quiet for a minute or two. "I dunno, Fabi. How do we know we like ladies? Just do. I mean I still think ladies are hot. I don't like em any less than guys."

He propped himself up on his elbow, looking over at Fabian. "I never thought about guys til I crashed that college party with Michael. I thought we were just hangin out.... but his ass looked just as good in those tight ass pants as any lady. He's got them pretty eyes...." Cal shrugged.

Cal had been unusually quiet the whole way to the junkyard. Sure, he'd had his usual pleasantries when they'd first met up, but they were just a bit off. He was still thinking about it. Despite what Fabian had said. He was still afraid. Maybe it was the reason Cal had hid out in his trailer for a few days. That had been unusual. He normally avoided that place like the plague.

He was already on his third cigarette in under an hour. Why the fuck was he so nervous all of a sudden? Nothing was different and everything was different at the same same time.

He'd stolen a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of cheap gin from his father. The guy owed him that much for what he didn't provide that he was supposed to. He wouldn't miss it anyway, or that's what he thought. He'd be the damn karma his father deserved.

Cal is scrambling to get out from under the cheerleader he'd been playing a little grab ass with, making out in one of the nicer junkyard convertibles. He hadn't expected Fabian to come up on him and the guy. He'd never been caught before. So why would he be thinking about it!?

"Shit...!" Cal nearly bites the dust climbing over the convertible door to run after his friend. He barely managed an apology to the guy as he'd thrown him off.

"Fab! Hey! Fabi, wait! ... Fuck!" He got his bearings, catching up rather quickly with his long ass legs. He tries to grab his shoulder to get him to stay put.

It wasn't everyday Myra took shortcuts. Her wheelchair cracking the dirt beneath her as she pushed herself through the abandoned warehouse as she would cautiously look around for any sign of a suspicious person out to get her. But then tenses and gasped once she sees the stranger in the corner before she sighed.