#redf.starter

if anyone had tried to claim that three months would be enough to understand a place like this, then it was for sure that they’d be lying. theo knew that much now as sure as he felt it settle in as he lingered at the edge of the field, circling slowly and watching everything that was unfolding before he'd even thinking of stepping into it.

he’d only just arrived, technically. found himself held back at work longer than intended because it always ran that way, didn’t it? duty wasn't something that clocked out cleanly, and neither did he. but eventually he’d torn himself free of it, and now here he was as a drink found its way into his hand from someone that could've been vaguely familiar, friendly or not, but he couldn’t quite place. still, theo accepted it all the same before drifting further into what might generously be called a well mannered form of chaos. or not.

he'd considered briefly avoiding the rodeo altogether, but here he was instead. there was shouting, betting, cheers that echoed and broke all around. and theo didn't understand a fucking word of it, not really. and he didn't really care that it showed either when that was caught by another as he leaned his hip against the post to watch.

“spirit of the town, isn't it?” his tone dry, laced just a little however with amusement, “to witness the shit i haven’t the faintest clue how to follow along.” he tipped the bottle back then, taking a longer drink than usual and already half thinking about how he’d need something stronger once this was finished. and nicer than bloody beer. but his gaze flicked back over to the ring, not quite unimpressed, but not entirely engaged either. “mildly entertaining,” he hummed out quietly, “that’s about as generous as i can be so far.”

"Nope. - no.. i don't.." ezra wouldn't necessarily have said she ripped her hand from their grasp, but there had been a certain, startling finality to it as she stepped back, corralled back in by the surging crowd. another gesture an attempt to persuade them otherwise. I don't dance... Something something hips -- questions and unwanted encouragements shattered within the sound of the surrounds. would her ears ring forever after this? would she spend the rest of her life thinking she'd suddenly become ailed by tinnitus? or would a split second decision to join her friends become a hauntingly life changing choice? she'd have put money on the latter. another damp cold hand paws at her, tugging her back into the fray of what she can only assume is this clubs excuse for a dancefloor. all she sees is entirely too much gyrating and misplaced purchase. "two left feet, clumsy." small words, minimal syllables. maybe it'd get through the sphere of noise a little easier - until recognition in the person slipping by from within the crowd fills her lungs with stale, putrid air, "my friend - they're, they're not well.. i'm uh," she's forced to pull away for a third time as the stranger reaches for her hand, "no, no dancing.. i already told you that."

location: the guilded night

His cane hits at least half a dozen people as he tries to make way to one of the exits, most of them too drunk or high or lost in their dances to care, getting away with just a few mumbled apologies thrown over his shoulder. He considers the restroom for a moment, but he is pretty certain it will be just as crowded and somehow even less hygienic, and suddenly his lungs ache for a breath of fresh air.

He finds himself in an alleyway, on some side of the nightclub different than the one he entered through, and leans against the brick wall, enjoying the silence- or as close as he can get to it, with the sound of car engines in the distance and drunken laughs from passers-by every now and then.

The door that offered him refuge opens again a few minutes later, ending that nice window of solitude. "I'm afraid this hiding spot is already taken."

the crack of the cue ball echoed through the rattlesnake bar, sharp enough to turn a few heads. jett leaned in slowly, lined it up, sending the eight ball gliding straight into the corner pocket with a final knock. game over; just like that. a few groans circled the table, a couple of curses under breath, but he barely acknowledged any of it. instead, the man straightened, rolling his shoulder once, the win cost him nothing at all. there's a stack of cash sitting near the rail - messy, tempting. he pulled it in with one hand, thumbing through it quick, not even counting, didn't need to, he already knew he'd come out ahead

lingering around the club at odd hours after her shift was rarely a smart move, rather it was usually the kind of mistake she avoided given the awful amount of chance encounters. more often than not astryd would slip out without a second glance back to where she'd come, find another bar for a quick drink, a reset even, then head home and bring herself back into something resembling normality and the kind of life that existed outside of.. everything else.

tonight, though, was different as her head tipped back against the wall, the cool surface grounding as her gaze trailed along the slow curl of cigarette smoke into the night air as she exhaled. the club continued to pulse behind her; muffled bass, laughter and the stagger of the drunks spilling out or being turned away at the door. she gave a small nod to a couple of the dancers passing by, familiar faces in the blur and concealment of the night, then let the quiet settle in around her for just a moment. just long enough to almost disappear into it—

until the sound of approaching footsteps cut through it instead, and the look she shot over in reaction was instinctive as it was sharp, and already annoyed before she even fully turned her head. the words followed just as easily, “no one ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt a lady and her peace?”