Pick a line from your favorite book/movie/poem/show/song. This line is now the first line of your story.
Line chosen from: Rifftrax Twilight commentary
âIs she supposed to look... sexy? Or like sheâs wearing a rabbitâs dentures?â Peter couldnât help it when he barked out a laugh at his barmanâs quietly posed question, eyes following where the younger man was looking to spot a woman on the other side of the bar. The woman was decked out to the nines, sparkly red dress, perfectly painted lips, but Peter could see where Davis was coming from with the question, the way her lips parted slightly, showing off her teeth in an extremely unflattering way as she put on what Peter could only imagine was her best coy expression. Perhaps Peter wasnât the best judge of these things, being less than interested in women as it was, but he couldnât help but think that it was less attracting men and more warding them off.
The fact that the woman was sitting alone at the end of the bar was indication enough of that.
âSend her a drink, on the house.â Peter replied quietly, a pang of sympathy for another lonely soul overriding his desire to sit and shit talk patrons with his favorite employee. Davis didnât offer much in the way of reply besides a slightly lifted eyebrow and a shrug before wandering off to mix rabbit lady up something tasty. Perhaps it was his bleeding heart, that thing that daddy had always tried to help him harden, that had caused that sudden feeling to wash over him watching the woman. Perhaps he simply understood what it felt like to sit alone at the end of a bar and drink alone, waiting for someone to sit and offer to share one with him. She wasnât an unattractive woman, any more than Peter was an unattractive man, but in that moment, they shared that deep seeded feeling of melancholy that came with another night of drinking alone.
He didnât have long to sit and stew in the bitter feeling, however, as the door opened behind him with a loud bang, and his eyebrow lifted slightly as he twisted to see what the commotion was.  People tended to know better than to drag their dramatics into his bar. They knew to keep it outside, in the back alley. Recognition hit him, however, and he met eyes with the two men dragging a third, stumbling and struggling one between them. His eyes cut immediately to the door to the left, the hallway leading back to his office, before turning his attention back to Davis, to the patrons, who all seemed to be confused and annoyed by the interruption of their calm night of drinking. Clearing his throat, Peter stood from his usual stool. âWell.â Clapping his hands together, he watched as eyes drew to him, likely expecting some kind of explanation. Instead, he simply said, âDavis, a round for everyone on the house.â as cheerfully as possible before leaving the bar and disappearing behind the door after the men.
He could hear the sounds of whispered argument before he even opened his office door, though the voices fell away when he walked in and moved around the desk, sitting in his chair without sparing a glance to the man who had been forced into a chair opposite his and was being held firmly by the shoulders by the two goons. The manâs hair was tangled and matted, something brown with a tinge of red. Heâd been roughed up pretty badly to get him here. Peter let the uncomfortable silence fill the room for a while before finally speaking, leaning forward on his elbows on the desk. âMr. Lodgston. Youâve killed four of my best men.â The other man defiantly refused to look up at him, but Peter didnât let it bother him. Simply tilted his head a bit. âName one good reason I shouldnât order my men to kill you right here and now.âÂ
A snort left the man, one that had Peterâs eyebrow lifting slightly, watching as the kid finally lifted his chin, looking him dead in the eye. âMaybe because only bitches let people do their dirty work for them. Kill me yourself, Lopez, or donât waste my time.âÂ
Insolent little shit. Peterâs lips pulled back, showing off his teeth, but it couldnât be called a smile by any stretch of the imagination. âFunny, youâre the one at a disadvantage here, and youâre still throwing out pithy one-liners. That why they keep you around over there? Your pithy little one-liners?â
Peter had been trained to keep his cool, to never let things break that cool and calculated facade. He was usually extremely talented at doing so, but this fucking kid... Peter watched it happen like it was slow-motion. The kid reared back enough and then spit in his face, and Peter, well Peter came flying over the desk without second thought, fist connecting with the kids face, hard. He felt a satisfying crack under his knuckle, and he paid no mind to his goons as he threw another punch. It landed like the first, but as his fist connected with skin, he felt a sharp pain flare to life in his side, causing everything to stop for a moment. Another one, right beside that first, flaring to life, this time feeling a little deeper, and it was then that Peter realized that Tate had stabbed him. His idiot goons hadnât gotten all of the kids weapons off him, or he was smart enough to finger one off one of the idiots. Either way, Peter fell off the kid as his hand reached up to clutch at his side, letting out a hard hiss through his teeth. He had no doubt, based on the crazed look in Tateâs eyes, that he would have gone for another few jabs, would have tried to land a killing one, had the goons not grabbed him and dragged him back out of the room. He hoped they left his god damned body rotting in the dumpster out back.
His vision started to go spotty and by the time his office door burst open and Davis was kneeling beside him, his breathing felt labored. Davis was saying something, but Peter wasnât paying a damn bit of attention to him, only thinking about how he definitely couldnât go to the hospital. He cut Davis off mid-rant, holding his hand up despite the screaming pain it caused his side, hissing out softly. âDoctor. Get me a god-damned doctor and make it a fucking discreet one.â
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2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod- Applause by Lady Gaga, Closing Time by Semisonic, Feel It Still by Portigal. The Man.the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep â where theyâre not supposed to- On the kitchen counter.the game they'd destroy everyone else at- Mario Kartthe emoticon theyâd use most often- Eyeroll emojiwhat they act like when they havenât had enough sleep- Whiny, very much a big baby man. He will often find the littlest things to complain about.their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.- Coffeehow they like to comfort/care for themselves when theyâre in a slump- Drinking, reading comic books, and sulking.what they wanted to be when they grew up- Tate once had an extremely big dream to be a TV weather man.their favorite kind of weather- Cold, cloudy, with maybe just a little bit of wintery mix falling from the sky.thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)- Tate couldnât carry a tune in a bucket. He is completely tone deaf and has once been told that his voice is âsomewhere between angry cat and snoring dogâ.how/what they like to draw or doodle- Tateâs doodles are almost always celtic knots or random little symbols he remembers from signs/billboards/advertising.
