a sacrifice

[ chris evans, cis man, he/him, thirty nine ] Wanted, dead or alive is [ weston davis ]. They are a [ bouncer at sapphire ] who have been in Lancaster for [ 4 months ]. They are affiliated with [ sinful ones ] and serves them as a [ member ]. People say they are [ cunning ] and [ outgoing ] but their enemies would say they are [ self absorbed ] and [ aggressive ]. They are described as [ waking up in a different state after a week long bender, a charming smile accompanied by dead eyes, loving someone you can never have ].

Head cocked to the side in amusement, the kind that only doubled with every word that rolled off the male’s tongue. It was clear that Kieran hadn’t been the only person in Lancaster who had been given the gift of gab. “Well, I’ll just have to test that theory myself. It’s good to meet you. I promise I’ll get creative when it comes to calling for you.” It felt more like a challenge than anything else and being the stubborn man he was, he couldn’t turn one of those down. Even if it was something as mundane as getting another’s attention. The amusement shifted to curiosity and curiosity was a dangerous thing for a writer. Once he built a narrative in his head, the only option he had was to chase it until the thought burned out or led to something else. “I’ll take what he’s having,” he rattled off smoothly, eyes never leaving Weston, even as he lifted his own drink to his mouth. It wasn’t the usual kind of drink for Kieran, but he’d settle in hopes of getting the other’s attention. The smell of the man’s cologne filled the journalist’s head, but rather than lean away, he leaned into the not-so-quiet speech. “What I’m hearing is that I can put my drinks on your tab and you’ll cover it? One way or another?” His brow was cocked upwards, his crooked smile the same. He wouldn’t do such a thing, but if his ties really ran so deep, then he must have known something else. Something that Kieran wanted to know too. “Don’t worry, I won’t run up the tab. I’d hate to be the reason you end up on your knees later.” His words hung in the air between them, the smooth rasp in his tone cleared with a thick swallow and a grin towards the bartender as they slid another fruity concoction towards him. “So, Wes,” he started, gaze on the other’s as he spoke, “are you from around here?”

.

“Famous last words,” Valeria said with a laugh. She could drag him down quite quickly if he let her. There were moments when the woman was stable, quiet, normal. But there were others when pushed she would seek hell only to stop feeling and thinking. And she had been on that downward spiral of trying to find hell. And maybe Wes at the same place, which could only be dangerous and probably a lot of fun. “I have no doubts about that. I’ve seen them line up at the club. All of them.” He was gorgeous, had a smile worth a million bucks, was fit and flirty. He would never have a problem finding anyone. Or even keeping them if he wanted, which didn’t seem to be a thing. But she was the same, for different reasons, or so she assumed. “First we drink, then we dance.” Valeria wasn’t certain how this night would go, if she would go to the deep end but it seemed like steps had been taken in that direction. “I have something a little stronger, if you’re interested.” 

“Oh, my sweet baby boy.” Sammy reached out and clamped a hand down on Wes’s shoulder. “You look like shit.” He leaned in and smiled brightly at the other man. Some people just did not do well under stress. Poor guy. He was beaten, bruised, and clearly on his last legs. Not that Sammy was doing any better. Sure he wasn’t so deep down in the pits of depravity that he was sporting a mesh top. God no. Sure if you looked closely at his boots they may or may not have some blood spatter across them. And if you looked into his eyes and really saw how red they were you would know damn well how far away from sober he was. But a mesh top? Oh no, he wasn’t that far gone. Looking to the bartender, Sammy held up one hand. “Two whisky sours. Heavy on the whisky, light on the sour.” He ordered before leaning into Wes’s side. The thumping of the music in here had started out as an annoyance but now it felt like every drum beat had Sammy flying just a little higher. Not too close to the sun Samuel. That could be dangerous. It’s nighttime, dad. Not too close to the sun. “What’s got you so fuckered up?” Sammy asked in a coo as their drinks slid across the bar towards the two of them. “Someone crawl up your ass? Or not crawl up your ass?” He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow and twisted grin. It was always nice to have someone around as fucked as he was. A nice change from day-to-day life.

“I’ll have you know, I just finally unpacked the box of my clothes from Vegas,” Wes hummed playfully, his grin easy as he all but relaxed against him. Sure, it wasn’t totally true - it was a box of clothes he’d worn while working the floor of the strip club he’d used to work at back then, in between his sets up on stage, but they’d been unpacked for weeks now, waiting for a very Wes-like spiral of depravity like tonight. The man liked all eyes being on him, after all, so really, the people here merely should be happy he’s not wearing black assless chaps and a hot pink speedo, since those were also options in his wardrobe. 

“Or it’s Tuesday. Take your pick for the reason.” It wasn’t Tuesday, but the proclamation wasn’t much of a surprise coming from Wes, because he never knew what day it was without Elijah there to remind him. “Need to blow off some steam, figured this was as good a place as any, you know?” Sure, people he knew had ended up dead - but Wes was hardly the type to linger on things like that, he never had been.

Is everything a joke to you? Well, no, dad, only the funny stuff. Your future isn’t a joke, Wes. I think it’s called a comedic tragedy.

.

Laughter escaped Elijah has Wes stumbled to the floor, the ow coming out of him only making it funnier. The fact that he wasn’t in his bedroom was a good sign that had the man breathing a little easier. He wouldn’t have to deal with the constant conflicting feelings that came with seeing his best friend with someone else. Still, hes eyes lingered over Wes, the muscles and skin, that little place at his waist he had dream about before. He had seen the other plenty of times, seen him naked back when he danced, althought that was something Elijah never told him. That Wes didn’t know of all the times he had sneak in the back, eyes riveted on him. “No one else wanted your ass today.” Joking meant that nothing was taking seriously and that was good. “I’ve been stuck with you for too long. You’re like a dirty old blanket by now.” Comforting, that was what the other was to Eli. He sank on the sofa, coffee in hands and handing half to Wes. “Took pity on you. I don’t know what this is but it’s pink so how could I pass it.” Elijah had no one serious in his life, his most stable relationship being with Wes and he wondered how the other would react if he was serious for a moment and told him how much he meant to him. All of Wes jokes and flirting was always brush aside, the other being like with everyone. “Who else is going to look after you today?”

.

Worrying about Wes sometimes felt like a full time job to Elijah. There was a time when the role were reverse, the man was certain of that, and another when they worried at the same time. But Elijah had calmed down, a little, even settled down for a while. He understood why the other was involved with the Sinful Ones, that need for some sort of family, of brotherhood. And he knew the collateral damages of such involvment. When Elijah heard about the shipment going wrong, he had immediately texted his friend, heart frantic, needing to make sure he was still breathing. The marks on his body were nothing, they would heal and at least, he was alive. “Haven’t needed you to cover my tab in years,” the man said with a laugh. Eli knew better than to try and talk Wes out of whatever tonight was, some way of getting something out his system. He had done the same plenty of time. There was a thought, far at the back of his head, of who Wes would go home with, some one night stand found in the club of him, to nurse his hangover in the spare bedroom. Eli wasn’t sure how he felt by any of it and so he always did his best to push the thought away from his mind. Wes was his best friend, nothing else. “You sure your bank account can handle this?”

.

The woman hadn’t known him for that long, her involvement with the Sinful Ones not going as deep as his, but what she had come to know from him, of him, was far from the picture he was trying to sell her. Maybe he was fucked up, she was in no position to judge, and after all, weren’t they all a little like that for doing what they did? But Wes was not a dick, he had shown it more than once at the club. Valeria soflty shook her head at his words. She knew he wanted her to believe him even if she didn’t know why. Recent events had hit them badly and Val was sure there were emotional scars there too. “If that’s what you need to believe,” she answered, not in the mood to argue about it, at least not now. She knew he would only insist. “I need something that will get me drunk without tasting like it. What you have looks exactly like that.” There would be a hangover tomorrow but that would be dealt with in time. “I’ll be your wingwoman for the night, not that you need one,” she added with a laugh. There was a certain worry in her for Wes and she wanted to make sure he was okay.

.

The bruises on Wes had been noticed a while ago, Valeria was certain everyone in the club had seen them. There was a part in her, the rational part that hadn’t truly shown itself lately, that wondered if the shirt was not by design, if the man didn’t want everyone to see the injuries. Some sort of statement or cry for help. But these thoughts were easily drowned by everything else that was in her system, from the pills to the alcohol, and all she wanted was to have fun. And Wes was sure putting up a good front at it and she wanted to be swallowed by that, even if none of it was real. She had danced some and was now sitting by the bar, just where Wes came up. “I’ll take the free drinks,” she purred. “But everyone?” There was a vague sense of déjà-vu, of Mateo doing the same not so long ago at a different place. “Everyone loves you already. How could they not.”

He was attempting to clear his mind from the straight up rejection he’d faced through Mia ghosting him. He should have known that things weren’t going to be so simple, and yet, he’d really thought that maybe they’d shared something together. It was dumb considering he had a job to do, but the woman had been his easy way in and somehow, he’d managed to screw that up without even trying. It was why he’d found himself at the bar, a place he hadn’t gone to since everything went to shit. His side ached the moment he’d stepped foot instead, but after a few rounds, the pain had numbed and all he could about was the next round. He’d lingered in every corner that he could before he’d found himself at the bar once more, his usual whiskey neat on the mind before someone offered a free round. “Well, that’s a good start. Do you have a name or should I just call you my new friend? I’m Kieran, by the way. I appreciate the freeze round.” It probably wasn’t going to be his drink of choice, but free booze was his kind of booze, even if it didn’t give him the same burn as his go-to drink. “You realize there’s a lot of people around this bar right now, right? Hope you’ve got deep pockets, pal.”

────────────────    

She wasn’t shy about studying him, a tickle at her memory almost faintly recognizing him, yet not being able to place a name to the face. New, perhaps? Newish? Or Charlotte had just been so preoccupied with her own life she was starting to forget old faces. He’d maybe been to the shooting range, but plenty of people stopped by. Whether it was to practice their aim or take out aggression, Charlotte was here for it all. And she judged, calculating who had a decent shot, keeping personal tabs for the Wild Coyotes own use in the future. “Sure thing,” She stepped back to re-open the door, taking the Be Back Later! sign inside with her. “You got your own gun with you, or are you wanting to rent? We’ve got plenty of options if so.”