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District 9 - Original Slash RPG
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| Hey kids, look it's an announcement kind of sort of |
[09 Aug 2004|10:08pm] |
As co-mod (uh which I don't think Sonny ever actually told anyone, but uhh...i have the modding dillio powers going on for the community, so. yeah special) I'm going to um kind of throw out here that I think D9 is more or less officially dead, what with Sonny being gone. Not that it has been active for the past couple of months anyway, so I'm sure this isn't a news flash to any of you.
However, on to the point of this post. I'm going to be using this journal (paradeonmyrain) for another purpose other than D9, so it'll be leaving the community and de-friending. If you've friended this lj you might want to go ahead and de-friend or you're going to be getting a load of stuff you won't give a crap about and that'd probably be pretty annoying. So yes, thanks. Anyway, it was a nice run, guys. Take care.
-Sheena
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| Syd's, afternoon |
[02 Jun 2004|10:01pm] |
Jez managed to find a cab in a decent amount of time by simply wandering around Canal Street with a vaguely lost expression. He'd discovered that Yank cabbies seemed particularly partial to people who looked like helpless prats. Gave them something of a superiority complex, he thought. Didn't matter much, as he was now seated in a nice dry taxi that smelled somewhat of stale cigarette smoke. And he'd done so before he became completely drenched by the rain.
He was marginally drenched, however, and that made his trousers stick uncomfortably to the vinyl upholstery of the taxi. Made things a bit awkward, as every time he moved the seat made squeaked in unflattering ways and the cabby, who knew perfectly well that it was the upholstery, kept peering back at him in the mirror with a smirk. Arse. Feeling a bit rebellious, he twisted around on the seat intentionally, making all sorts of squeaks and screeches as he feigned innocently looking out the window. It was slightly empowering, that was.
When they arrived at the address Syd had given him, Jez just arched an eyebrow at the driver as he handed over his money. The man blandly made change, and Jez decided his little act of defiance hadn't really made much impact. Bugger that. Next time he'd do something really outrageous. Like...whistle a bad pop tune.
So maybe he was a bit pathetic. It happened to the best of people.
Locating the stairs on Syd's building, and getting re-drenched in the process, Jez climbed to the third floor and followed the concrete balcony until he reached number 28. He ran his hand through his hair quickly a couple of times, shaking the water out of it and doubtlessly causing it to spike up all over the bloody place. Well, he'd made an attempt at not looking like a complete wanker who couldn't manage simple things like an umbrella, anyway. It was the effort that counted, right? Besides, he reckoned that Syd was the sort to rather fancy spikes, so it may work to his benefit.
Right. He was just going to knock on the door now.
And so he did, twice.
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| Caleb's apartment, 7pm [Lemon] |
[24 May 2004|09:08pm] |
Was it right to take Joey's non-response as acquiescence? He hadn't brushed Caleb's hand away; he hadn't moved. Yes, he'd tensed for a moment, but now he was relaxed and Caleb had been gently squeezing and massaging his thigh for some time. The tape rolled on. Another girl begged for it, her ass in the air. Another guy sucked another cock. In one scene, a beautiful androgynous red-haired boy was naked and mounted to the wall. His hands were suspended above his head; his back to the wall, his legs up and spread by a swing. Blindfolded, he whimpered and whined. He begged to be fucked.
It was Caleb's favorite scene.
( ..... )
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| Hiroshi's Apartment, 5pm |
[20 May 2004|09:03pm] |
Watching Hiroshi move through the isles of Mitsuwa, knowledgably grabbing some of the strangest packages Eugene had ever seen, Eugene couldn't help but be impressed. The only thing he could honestly say he recognized was the rice.
There was something amusing and comforting about Hiroshi handing off the bags to him as they left the grocery, leaving him to be in charge of lugging them up to the apartment. It was rather -- domestic. It made him grin, even as the straps of the plastic bags were cutting into the palms of his hands.
Eugene carried the bags into the kitchen and set them down as carefully as he could -- he felt ready to drop them, but wouldn't let himself. He didn't want to lose face. How do you explain that you've never really lugged groceries before?
As he started pulling items from the bags and setting them on the counter, Eugene called over his shoulder.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
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| Car/Skate's Place, 4:30 |
[17 May 2004|08:53pm] |
The ride home from the hospital was silent, save for the rhythmic swish of wiper blades. Skate let his forehead rest against the window, wondering idly if it was going to leave a smudge. Couldn't be marring Reg's dad's shiny new Beamer, right? He watched his breath form patches of fog on the glass and thought for an expensive car it really had a shitty defrost system. Unless the defrost wasn't on, and given the way Reg was clenching the steering wheel like it was pure platinum, Skate was willing to guess he may be a little too distracted to think of petty things like keeping the windows clear so they didn't get into a wreck and die in a flaming ball of fiberglass and leather.
Waking up choking on a plastic tube with Reg standing three feet away hadn't been his best moment. Actually, it had fucking sucked, as had the day and a half of prodding and psyche evaluations that followed. And Reg's quiet brooding and knowing looks and complete refusal to give any indication of why he was there other than "You know why I'm here." Obviously Skate didn't, or he wouldn't have asked twenty times. Apparently Harvard hadn't done much for Reg's intelligence.
As for the entire 'brush with death' experience, as Very Christian Nurse Bitch from Hell had put it six or thirty times, Skate was...not thinking about that. Actually, that wasn't true. He'd thought about it a lot in the past two days, but he couldn't seem to work up any particular feelings over it other than a mild sense of how fucking stupid it was. Weren't people supposed to have epiphanies? Or new leases on life? Or some dramatic personality change? Skate just felt tired, and nauseous, and he had a migraine. What he wanted was to go home and collapse on his couch and watch mind-numbing daytime television until he passed out. So, basically it was like every other day. Only a little sicker. He had a sneaking suspicion something was wrong with that level of detachment, but he was too busy tagging the fog on the window to really examine that thought.
Reg apparently still remembered where his apartment was, though the fuckwit checked his car alarm twice before following Skate through the door to his building. Unfortunately, Skate rapidly discovered that his apartment was nothing like he'd left it. As soon as he opened the door the lemony-chemical stench of spray cleaners assaulted him. Stepping warily over the threshold, he grimaced and toyed with the urge to be pissed off. He couldn't quite work up the energy yet. Maybe after he slept, or after Reg went away instead of brushing past him and dropping a duffel bag on the floor. Skate hadn't even seen him get it out of the car, not that he'd exactly been watching what Reg was doing. He'd been more interested in getting inside.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked flatly, eyeing the immaculate state of his apartment. It hadn't even been this clean when he'd moved in. He frowned.
"It's a bag. I didn't realize the drugs had fucked up your head that bad." Reg gave him him a dry look, which Skate pointedly ignored because it was seriously going to require energy to fight with Reg and that was something he just did not have right now.
"Whatever, just make yourself at home, asshole," he muttered, pushing past Reg to get to the kitchen. There was something wrong here, aside from the way his sink fucking gleamed at him. There were no bottles. He pulled open the cabinets, eyes narrowing at each failure to discover where his considerable stash of liquor had gone. Gone being the operative word. It looked like it was gone period. Laynie was in on this, she was the only one with enough balls to actually do it. Fucking hell. It wasn't like a drink exactly appealed to him at the moment, but jesus christ, coming into his apartment and taking his stuff like he was some incompetent moron. What was this shit?
Irritation welled up in his chest as he left the kitchen in lieu of the bedroom. Cleaned and void of any and all 'harmful' substances. Same with the bathroom. She'd even taken the god damn Tylenol. Walking back into the bedroom again, Skate glared around helplessly. Damn, if Laynie were here right now...
But she wasn't, which kind of said something, right? She cared enough to sneak into his home and steal his shit, but not enough to come to the hospital or be there when he got home. Not that he wanted her around. What fucking ever. Dropping next to a pile of folded clothes on the bed, he toed off his shoes and fell backward onto the mattress. The stack of clothes toppled over, some going on the floor, the rest on his legs. He started to shove them off half-heartedly when he noticed the Lucky 13 shirt his hand was on. Lou's shirt. That was something else he wasn't examining too closely.
He'd probably scared the shit out of the kid, but then again, he couldn't really know because Lou hadn't bothered showing up for the past two days. Skate had considered calling from the hospital, but what was the point? Lou knew he was there, or he did according to Reg, who had so kindly informed him upon waking that 'some blonde kid had dumped him at the ER and then taken off.' Not that Reg knew shit about anything, but the fact that Lou hadn't checked to make sure he wasn't dead or something kind of...sucked. Then again, Lou was just a kid, and Skate was just a fuck up, and he really didn't want to think about this right now.
Chucking the clothes off the edge of the bed, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Fuck Reg. Fuck Laynie. Fuck his clean 'clean' apartment.
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| The House of Mirth, 3PM |
[15 May 2004|04:51pm] |
It was pissing outside, rain spattering against the window and leaking in around the edges of the frame. He'd meant to re-caulk the fucking thing, but he hadn't ever gotten around to it. The caulking gun was still sitting in the garage collecting several months worth of grit, unless Lucas had hauled it off for a project like he had with the staple gun.
Flicking cigarette ashes into the empty tabasco bottle next to the stove, he eyed the saucepan he'd been standing over for the past two hours. The opaque red liquid was simmering softly, occasionally popping with a small bubble and leaving pasty spots on the counter. The whole thing looked like a bad horror movie creation, maybe some liquefied entrails with a pint or two of blood. Smelled nice though, spicy. His great aunt's kitchen had smelt the same way for most of his childhood, god love her. She'd died cooking up a pan of it for herself, or so his father had claimed.
He rifled through a coffee-can-turned-utensil-holder until he found a battered wooden spoon, then stirred the rusty sludge seven times clockwise. Fuck the people who said superstition was a waste of time, there was a method to making this shit. Besides, deviating from the exact recipe made it taste about as appetizing as pickled cod. If Landon didn't have ice and a blender at his apartment when Alaric brought the stuff over, the kid may as well give up and suffer his flu.
Ten minutes later he was digging a mason jar out of the pantry to take it to Landon's. The place was full of them, some empty and some full of bulbous rotten things he couldn't identify. It appeared as though his estranged grandmother had been an obsessive preserver. Of what, exactly, he wasn't sure. Could be fruit, could be cat fetuses. Could be his grandfather, actually.
The low groan of hinges from the front door caused him to lean out of the pantry, twisting to see down the hall into the foyer where Tristan and Landon were dripping on the floor. Not that a little more warping would hurt the floorboards at that point. He raised an eyebrow at the scarf Tristan had clenched in his fist like a makeshift leash.
"PETA would eviscerate you if they knew you were walking your puppy in the rain." He gave Tristan a dry look, then went back into the pantry. "Find him some dry clothes before he passes out," he called, setting the mason jar back on the shelf and dragging out the blender instead.
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| Syd's apartment. 4:00 PM |
[13 May 2004|12:46am] |
Syd sat on the couch and idly flipped through the stations. There was bugger all on, and he was terribly bored. Hell, he’d even done all his homework. He was bored and there was no one to bother… Landon was away doing his band thing. Syd tried desperately to repress the stab of jealousy. He just had to remember that he’d had his chance.
Of course none of this relieved his boredom. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was times like this that he really missed his mates. He glanced at the phone… would calling Jez be too…weird? Hell, he was probably working. He picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone for a minute before he dialed.
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| Caleb's Apartment - 6pm |
[13 May 2004|12:02am] |
The day had been long and classes had been dull. He was seriously beginning to wonder if this whole school thing was a huge fucking waste of time. He'd signed up with the overly optimistic idea that one day he would have to do something besides sell drugs and get into fights and that education would come in handy when that day came. However now he realized that he could not fit into a school setting, he had no patience for homework and that even if he decided to get out of the life later on, his record would prevent him from getting a decent job. So basically, he was fucked.
As annoyed as he was by the day, he'd decided that dropping by Caleb's for an update was necessary. He also wanted to get the guy strapped if he was going to be running around with Lenny. The idea of giving Caleb a gun didn't please him and he was half hoping that Caleb would turn the offer down. He shook his head and knocked on the door.
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| Barber & Copland St., 4pm |
[07 May 2004|01:00pm] |
The last two hours had been two of the most uncomfortable and overwhelming in Eugene's life. It might not have been so bad if Eugene had paid attention to what Ms. Paulice was saying and not continually fretting over what Hiroshi might be thinking.
At the first place Ms. Paulice had taken them, she had turned to them, beaming, and announced that it would be perfect for a young couple. Red faced and stumbling over the words, Eugene had explained that things weren't exactly as she'd assumed. She had been very embarrassed herself and apologized profusely. Eugene couldn't bring himself to look at Hiroshi just then, too afraid to see what horrible thing Hiroshi's expression might tell him. Had he been appalled? Amused, disgusted?
For the brief moment before he spoke up and explained, Eugene had liked hearing the assumption. It had felt right.
Since then, Eugene felt increasingly uncomfortable with the pricey-ness of the places being shown. Three-story townhouses, converted lofts, all in the most upscale of neighborhoods. They all felt wrong. They reminded Eugene too much of something his mother would choose.
This last place they were seeing -- another converted loft -- seemed just as pretentious and needless as all the rest. Eugene felt bad. He'd pretty much wasted everyone's time today. Well, Ms. Paulice would still be paid for her time, regardless. However, Hiroshi...
As Ms. Paulice continued on about the rosewood inlay floor, Eugene gravitated to where Hiroshi stood. He shrugged and flashed him a sheepish grin.
"I'm sorry. I guess I really wasted your day off, eh?" After avoiding it for the last couple of hours, Eugene looked up and met Hiroshi's gaze, grinning to see his lovely dark eyes. God, he just wanted to kiss him again.
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| Cafe Pick Me Up, a little before 2pm |
[05 May 2004|01:44am] |
It was a blessing, Eugene knew that. His mother hadn't been home, so the visit to the condo had been uneventful. Well, aside from the sheepish grin he kept giving Hiroshi for how large the place was. He had to restrain his knee-jerk response to apologize -- he knew that would only make it worse. Instead, he just changed very quickly, grabed a few necessary papers and got them both out of there.
Mr. Harris had picked the cafe, had said it would be easy to find. Which was true. They were a touch early, so once they darted from the cab (trying not to get too wet) and were safely inside, Eugene turned towards Hiroshi and grinned. He ran his fingers through his hair -- it was damp again.
"Can I buy you a coffee?"
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| Cafe Pick Me Up :: 2 p.m. |
[04 May 2004|10:30pm] |
Reece hunched his shoulders and ducked in the door, swearing under his breath. He vaguely remembered breaking his umbrella by being brilliant and trying to pry open one of the windows in his apartment with it. It'd broken, predictably, and genius that he was, he still hadn't bought a replacement.
"Not-so-mental note to self," he said, discreetly wringing his hair out to the side, "unidentifiable crust-thing on window is invincible."
He stretched a little and brightened when he caught sight of the coffee. Caffeine would be just the thing to put the pep back in his step.
Step up the pep in my step? Reece snickered a little at his dorkiness.
He ordered a large coffee and, several pounds of sugar packets in hand, sat down at a comfortable little table in the back. There was graffiti on the tabletop and he squinted at it, then frowned at his hand.
Smurf blue, Reece thought with some amusement. He wiped his hands on his jeans and raised his eyebrows as he set about dumping an entire landfill's worth of sugar in his coffee. He hoped that the dye hadn't bled all over his face. On the other hand, if it had, then maybe he'd look like he was one of the undead or something. And maybe that'd be kind of cool.
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| Lenny's place, 11:30am |
[30 Apr 2004|11:38pm] |
Caleb looked over his shoulder, standing before Lenny's apartment door. Joey hadn't been kidding when he said this end of town was even scarier than where he lived. This hallway alone looked like a scene taken from a post-apocalyptic flick. The desolation of Hell on Earth, survivers coping under the most horrific circumstances, that sort of thing -- like, this was the only apartment complex left, God help them all.
Caleb shivered and knocked again. In response, he heard some rustling about from the inside and figured Lenny was hiding shit before he opened the door. Caleb scoffed at that. It wasn't as if Lenny hadn't been expecting him, and he was a little later than he planned to be as it was. After getting distracted in the shower (he got the mental image of Joey naked in the same shower) and trying his damnedest to track down Eugene (still to no avail -- he was starting to get really worried), Caleb had left probably 45 minutes behind schedule. Lenny still wasn't prepared for him, it seemed.
When the door finally opened, Caleb glanced inside and wasn't sure what was beyond the door was any safer or cleaner than the post-apocalyptic hallway. He looked up at Lenny and managed a grin.
"Hey, man."
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| 9am Joey's Apt |
[29 Apr 2004|08:33am] |
They'd come back the night before and spent a couple of hours planning out Caleb's new assignment. He had wisely kept away from alcohol of any kind to prevent any more... incidents from occuring. Which was interesting if you consider that his mind had been in the gutter all night and that he'd had more than one x-rated dream. One little incident and I'm already all fucking obsessed with it. He shook his head in disgust and continued getting dressed. It hadn't helped that once again, Caleb had fallen asleep there.
He walked over to Caleb's prone form (he'd let him have the bed) and prodded. "Hey, wake up." He prodded again. "I got a couple of classes but you can stay here for awhile if you want."
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| Wednesday - 8am |
[27 Apr 2004|12:52pm] |
Eugene hadn't slept well. Aside from having a lot on his mind, he'd never been very good at sleeping in unfamiliar places. He'd woken several times and finally, at 7:10am, gave up the effort. Maybe after he took care of a few affairs, he could manage a nap -- and /actually/ get rest from it.
Eugene had been settled, crosslegged, on Hiroshi's couch -- the blanket tucked around his waist and phone tucked under his ear -- for the last 30 minutes, scribbling down all the stats on his trust fund. Mr. Harris, Eugene's father's lawyer, had only seemed mildly surprised by the nature of the phone call. Then again, Mr. Harris knew Eugene's mother, so maybe he wasn't surprised at all. The man was presently arranging for the transfer of funds, a metting with a realitor ("It's a buyer's market and even condo ownership is a much better investment than renting any day," Mr. Harris had assured.), and the assignment of Eugene's own financial planner.
Eugene felt eerily like his father, on the phone like this, discussing business matters, taking notes from Mr. Harris. He remembered seeing his father much like this, rarely without the phone, walking around in his terry-cloth robe or sometimes just a towel, fresh from a shower. Business never waited for a better time -- at least, Nate Morey never made it do so.
By the time Eugene said his final goodbyes to Mr. Harris, his head was spinning with afternoon appointment times and his stomach grumbling for some food. He glanced over to the closed door of Hiroshi's bedroom. He figured it would still be hours before he saw him. Eugene couldn't help but frown at that thought. Generally, you didn't order in breakfast -- you went out for it. Eugene didn't want to go out. Which meant... Eugene eyed Hiroshi's kitchen. He supposed it would be okay if he cooked just a little something. Eggs maybe. He could do eggs. His only concern was disturbing Hiroshi. Well, Eugene could make eggs /quietly/.
That decided, Eugene pushed aside the blankets and crossed to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and carefully looked around for the pans and ingredients he would be needing.
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| lunchtime, noonish, Neulan high |
[23 Apr 2004|12:40am] |
Boyd resisted the urge to sigh as Kylie stumblingly tried to explain how her morning had went. It was not that he had anything against the girl, but she certainly could learn some better speaking manners. She hardly seemed able to string a set of words together into a coherent sentence without nearly losing the structure in a sea of 'umm,' 'uh,' and such. He nodded slightly to her to encourage her babbling anyway, though honestly he was hardly paying attention. He was trying to get his homework done for two weeks in advance, and though it was not particularly necessary, he had nothing else to do. He was not certain where Eli was, and Lou had yet to arrive. Angel had disappeared somewhere, and Boyd had yet to see Max at lunch. Kylie, likely feeling alone and afraid, had thus clung to the one person she knew who was around: Boyd.
Boyd glanced up when she trailed off. Ah. That was unfair. She was not clinging. She was attempting to be friendly. He should attempt to be friendly back.
Probably.
Boyd was just not used to people trying to stay around him, however. At least, not people who were not Eli, Lou, or his or their families.
"Yes, that is unfortunate," he said softly to her in response to whatever she was lamenting about. She smiled at him and said something inane back, then began eating her food and discussing the food back in the Midwest.
Boyd looked back down at his English book and sighed softly.
He wished someone else would arrive already...
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| Books on Main! Main books on...? |
[22 Apr 2004|09:22pm] |
Reece toed the sidewalk with one worn sneaker and squinted at a wrinkled grimy post-it note. He'd scribbled the address on it with yellow highlighter. The post-it note was neon green. Sometimes he hated himself.
His bangs made little grassblades of powder blue in front of his eyes, and he idly brushed them aside. He shifted to vaguely eye the building in front of him.
"Books on Main," he read. He glanced down at the post-it note again, then laughed and sing-songed under his breath, "I don't know what I'm fucking do-ing."
Reece pushed open the doors and looked around. He could be cool, he could be smart. He could also be lost.
"Hmm, not-so-mental note to self," he mumbled, "next time, ask employer where they want you."
He gave wide berth to a gaggle of children and a frazzled-looking lady with pale auburn hair, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargos, speeding up a little in case some of the little kids detected him and decided to spread the a.m. misery. He passed shelves full of--"Dude!"
Reece paused and picked out a book. It was covered in sticky plastic wrapping, and there were the words "The Pop-Up Kama Sutra: Six Paper-Engineered Variations" on the front in large letters. Reece giggled like a fourth-grader.
"Pop up," he said to himself, then decided maybe he oughtn't keep talking to himself so much when a girl wearing a backwards baseball cap gave him a strange look.
He cleared his throat, slid the book back in its place and glanced around. He brightened when he saw the help desk and beelined toward it. Maybe they would know where he was supposed to start work.
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| 1:10 AM |
[20 Apr 2004|11:47pm] |
“Have a good night, Bob.” Hiroshi waved to the cleaning guy before he left the bar. All the patrons had cleared out ten minutes ago, and he’d finished balancing the register. Now he could… do something. Not that he had anywhere to go or anything to do or anyone to do it with.
For a moment, Hiroshi saw Jiro’s face. Sweet, young Jiro… the one person he’d loved more than anything. It must have been Eugene that reminded him of Jiro; he hadn’t thought of him in so very long. He tried not to most days.
He pushed those memories back and took a few steps down the sidewalk. He really hoped he could hail a cab…
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| 1PM: Rue 41 |
[19 Apr 2004|10:46pm] |
Monica approached the coffee shop slowly, looking through the window to see if Kasper was there. She spotted him sitting at a table, staring at nothing.
At first she had been uneasy about this meeting; unable to decide if she was still angry with Kasper or not. Eventually she'd concluded that she wasn't angry, precisely; he had been drunk, which was more of an excuse than she would have liked to admit. Kasper did not handle alcohol well.
With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the shop. She knew she would forgive him, just like she always had. She was too accustomed to his ways to ever stay angry or annoyed for long, or even really hold a grudge. Grudges were a waste of time and effort.
"Hello," Monica said, approaching the table where Kasper sat.
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| Cherry 10pm |
[19 Apr 2004|08:38am] |
When they got to Cherry, the place was already crowded and noisy. Everything in the place was red and black, including the damn lights, which was more than a little annoying. Joey scanned the strip club quickly until he spotted the group sitting at the bar. The bar curved around the stage, so the dancers were right up in their faces. Joey made a face and looked at Caleb, gesturing for him to follow. He wondered if Caleb went to strip clubs at all, but decided not to ask. Joey went because he was expected to and pretended to enjoy the dancers, but in actuality he could really care fucking less about it and rarely got turned on unless they were all up on him during a lapdance.
He navigated his way through the tables and approached the group of Outlaws. Jimmy, Smith, Lenny, Mike and a couple of other people he didnt care about were there. And for some reason Angel was there too. He eyed her warily for a moment before shaking his head. They all greeted him and he gestured at Caleb. "This is Caleb. He's my new runner. He ain't a Outlaw, but he's mad cool." He said loudly, over the music. He turned to Caleb. "This is Lenny, Jimmy, Mike... and you already met Smith and Angel."
Angel winked at him knowingly and Smith grinned (a little too widely because he had already started drinking) at Caleb. "I remember you! You the dude who dropped off my shit!" He snickered wildly for a minute. "My neighbor said they saw you get into a little suttin suttin with them pussy ass Lost Boys outside my building. He told me one funny ass story about it too."
Joey quickly lost interest in Smith's drunken rambling and sat down at the bar, ordering a drink. There was a blonde on the stage with extremely huge breasts, grinding against a poll. He rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. Why did they always have to meet at such retarded places?
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