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Charles Shurley
 Posted: Jun 26 2016, 11:00
Quote


Prophet of the Lord

Human

Chess is Offline


75 posts




The "business meeting" with one of Chuck's closest publicists changed into a "quiet drink", which had steadily devolved into the situation they were in now. Sure, he wasn't drunk per say, but his publicist was certainly getting there. He had been ready to go home hours ago, however, he pretty much had no choice in the matter at this point. "Come on, Chuck, you're over thirty, you're still single," the other man observed in a somewhat overexaggerated voice, the drink in his hand dangerously sloshing about as he spoke with his hands. "You have no one to bounce off of - that's what it is, I'm telling you," he continued, Chuck's head tipping from time to time as he attempted to make it seem like he was taking on what his publicist, his friend was saying. He'd had relationships before, but they hadn't worked out for one reason or another. The main thing that generally got in the way was obviously his relationship with alcohol, backed up by trying to confide in people about the "visions" who would just think he was crazy. "You need to find yourself a nice girlfriend... Or a boyfriend, whatever floats your boat, dude, but you need to do something," the other man said, honestly sounding a little desperate at this point.

"I'll tell you what, I'll tell you what, just hear me out..." the publicist went on, barely missing a beat between talking and drinking. This was his go to combination of phrases when he was about to propose an idea that, in his not so humble opinion, was going to be the best idea that Chuck would ever entertain. This phrase meant Chuck was supposed to shut up, listen and agree what whatever he said next. To be honest, in the last couple of hours, Chuck hadn't really said much of anything because he couldn't get a word in edgeways if he wanted to, but he didn't really have anything to say anyway. As for listening... Well, he got the general idea of what the guy had been saying. "The next person, female, male, everyone in between, that walks through that door? You're gonna be smart," he suggested, somewhat violently tapping the tip of his index finger against his temple to accentuate the point. "You're gonna suck it up, you're gonna buy them a drink, you're gonna have a good evening, then who knows?" The publicist took what could be interpreted as a victory sip just as the main doors swung open and someone came in. "Go, go, go!" he encouraged, shoving at Chuck's arm to nudge him off the stool.

Chuck's eyes rolled as he drank the last of his own drink, setting the glass on the bar top before heading off in the other person's direction. He couldn't exactly back out of this - the place was kind of busy, but from where his friend was sitting, he would be able to see if he backed out, hell, at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if he could somehow hear what he was saying. He cleared his throat as he got close to the other person, standing directly in front of them, an apologetic look already colouring his expression. "Hey there. Urm... Before this gets more awkward than it already is, can I buy you a drink?" he questioned, silently hoping the individual would reject him and he could finally be done with the evening and go home. Despite this silent hope, he also would appreciate a change in company.
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Clea Givens
 Posted: Aug 14 2016, 17:34
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Untriggered Werewolf

Ferus

Ange is Offline


24 posts




Strolling into the Mystic Roadhouse Clea swatted a hand around her head. To anyone who’d caught the gesture she might’ve bordered on looking crazy but it was a necessary move. A full 72 hours trapped in the apartment she was renting in town, hunched over her laptop, trying to get a literature review on Lycaon in Greek mythology completed before her supervisor started making noises about her getting herself back to Berkeley. There’d been a few hours sleep in those 72 somewhere, but nowhere near as much as she should’ve had. Rest breaks were taken when her body screamed for them, although for the most part they’d consisted of the bathroom, a stop at the fridge for enough fuel to get her through the next burst, and then a return to the battered old desk that took up most of what the realtor had laughingly called a second bedroom. By the time she’d punched send on the email to Professor Graves her body had been shaking on that brink of exhaustion. Her fingers had shoulders and fingers had both been cramping, the blinking cursor that had appeared when she’d switched back to Word to shut the file down swimming around the screen in triplicate. At that point even she’d been willing to concede defeat and crawl into bed.

Letting her hands drop from the attempt to rid her brain of the lingering thoughts of articles she’d missed and nuances she’d not pulled from the texts, Clea lifted her wrist to check her watch. The thoughts were still half there, dancing around in her field of vision, obscuring the numbers on her watch face for a moment. She’d gotten a good eight hours sleep by her count, enough for her to be feeling semi-human now, especially when the help of a scalding hot shower and Miss Maybelline left her looking a little less like an extra from The Walking Dead. If she was a lucky girl indeed then either Katie or Josh would find their way past the Roadhouse for a drink tonight. A grateful text had been sent off to Katie this morning to thank her for the food delivery the night before, one she vaguely thought might’ve been spurred by the sort of rambling phone call that usually had people suggesting rubber rooms and a fitting for a perfectly fashionable little straight jacket. Being as awesome as she was Katie had done neither, she’d just sent Josh by a bag full of the sort of thing she rarely bothered putting together for herself. Josh hadn’t stayed for long, Clea imagined he’d taken one look at the state of her and had run for the hills. If he stopped by she’d thank him too and beg him never to tell another soul of what he’d seen. What happened in the depths of an academic crisis stayed in the depths of that crisis.

And what happened in the Roadhouse in the wake of one of those crises stayed in the Roadhouse. That had always been her personal rule. You didn’t always want to remember the unwinding that happened after one of those trips into the blackhole of desperate cramming. Tucking her blonde hair back behind her ear Clea stood by the door, green eyes narrowed as she scanned the crowd for a familiar face. The Darens weren’t always around but she’d hoped. At the sound of someone clearing their voice in front of her Clea reared back an inch, eyes flaring wide with doubt before she caught the apologetic look. She waited patiently, blonde brows raised while he spoke. Amusement pulled at Clea’s lips as she gave him a slow nod in return. ”Hey there right back,” she murmured. ”Oh honey, if you think this is awkward you have no idea. I’ll take you up on the drink though if it helps stop it getting that way.” Feeling sorry for the guy, who’d probably been egged onto this by friends somewhere in the crowd Clea offered a hand. ”I should probably introduce myself, make it a little easier. Clea Givens.” Her mom would’ve appreciated the manners and her dad would’ve cheered on the fact that she might’ve saved an obviously embarrassed guy from spontaneously combusting. She’d never felt that sort of awkwardness herself but then again, as she been repeatedly told when she was younger, she didn’t have quite the same social graces as the rest of the world. It was a fact that she’d been born without the bashful gene.
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Charles Shurley
 Posted: Jan 20 2017, 10:25
Quote


Prophet of the Lord

Human

Chess is Offline


75 posts




Chuck smiled gratefully when the woman didn't completely shoot him down as he had been expecting. She just had an aura of a person you didn't mess about with, but it seemed she was actually the friendly sort. "I just figured total stranger approaching you in a bar wasn't too unusual for someone like you, but one that looked like me might be," he responded on the topic of making things awkward. Okay, so maybe he was just making things out to be more awkward than they actually were. He had had a few drinks already and this wasn't his usual approach to anything. She was a very pretty girl, so she was probably used to being randomly approached, but he hated being the person that approached her and could potentially give her the creeps or something. What he was doing now was behaviour he had witnessed in other people, and always felt like he got second-hand embarrassment from.

"Car... Uh, Chuck Shurley," he returned with a smile, taking her hand and shaking it gently. Why he had almost introduced himself under his pseudonym was beyond him... He had never done that sort of thing before, other than say, publisher meetings, but even then they knew him was both as a writer and just a stand alone individual. Wow, he really needed to lay off the drink if he expected this to go well, but the whole premise of the thing was to continue drinking, but bring some company along with him. Or something. Right now, he wasn't thinking clearly, and wasn't entirely sure what the purpose of this whole exercise was anyway. He turned slightly, gesturing in the direction of the bar, a distance down it where there were some empty seats, away from his publisher. "Shall we?" he offered with another smile.

When they started to move towards the bar, he found himself making idle banter, which was not unlike him, but it was largely more generic than what came out of his mouth usually. "As you can probably tell, I've had a few drinks already, and... Urm... This is kind of a dare, but not..." He scowled, shaking his head. What even was this? Was it fair to label it as a dare when there hadn't actually been any stakes set at this point? "Apparently, I don't get out enough," he corrected quickly before letting out a scoff of laughter.
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Clea Givens
 Posted: Jan 29 2017, 18:44
Quote


Untriggered Werewolf

Ferus

Ange is Offline


24 posts




Was it unusual to have a guy approach her and offer to buy her a drink? Probably less so now than it had been before she’d settled in San Francisco. Was it unexpected tonight? That was closer to the truth. Spending that long cooped up in the apartment, tearing her hair out over the deadline she’d ignored for far too long, had left her feeling almost inhuman. A part of her brain even now could feel her hair standing on end and that gritty burn that’d left her feeling like someone had pushed hot coals into her eyes. Clea could remember the way Josh had reacted to that look, yesterday … the day before perhaps, and at first she’d half expected it from the guy in front of her too but instead of recoiling in horror he’d apologetically asked her if she wanted a drink. If it hadn’t been for his obvious embarrassment, his awkwardness, she might’ve cooed, petted him like the adorable little puppy he’d reminded her of. Instead, she’d taken him up on his offer, assuring him that this was nowhere near as awkward as some of the situations she’d found herself in before. Over a dozen years on the road in some of the poorest parts of the world and you honestly got to see some things.

He really was sweet, she thought, trying not to chuckle as he smiled gratefully at her. Instead Clea shook her head, adjusting the bag she had flung over her shoulder, the one she’d crammed a couple of books into should she not have been able to find a drinking buddy for the night. ”For someone like me?” Clea asked, a touch of amusement in her voice. ”I probably don’t get people approaching me half as much as you’re thinking right now, but when they do … it’s all sorts.” She wasn’t sure if that would be much of an assurance for him, when he seemed so awkward in his own skin, but it was the truth. Her parents had discovered early on that she had a way of getting herself tangled up with those who weren’t quite like her, the poor, the old, those who were just crazy enough that they weren’t too sure about her involving herself with them. This one, Clea thought, regarding him with a tilt of her head, didn’t quite fit into any of those categories but he wasn’t exactly Joe College either.

Green eyes narrowed faintly as he seemed to stumble over his name but Clea kept her hand in his while he shook it. Maybe he’d had a little more to drink than it’d seemed, or she’d simply disconcerted him that much. She hoped it was more of the first and less of the second, although, it could be easier to turn it around if it was nerves and not drunkenness. ”Nice to meet you Chuck,” she told him with a smile. As he turned, gesturing towards the bar, Clea slipped past him, returning his grin. ”Thanks,” she murmured, making her way towards the bar. One hand remained fiddling with the bag on her shoulder, the other slipping into the well worn pocket of her jeans while she watched him from the corner of her eye. He’d been a little difficult to get a read on, at least until he started to explain. Holding back a chuckle, Clea bit her lower lip for a moment as she nodded. ”Don’t worry, I get what you mean,” she assured him, pulling her hand out of her pocket to pat his upper arm understandably. ”You’ve got someone worrying you’re turning into a hermit, so they’ve kinda pushed you to go approach a stranger. It’s not the first time I’ve seen something like that happen. I was a bartender, I got to hear a lot of stories about people trying to get out there. You’re probably one of the most sober I’ve seen trying it.” There been more than one who’d sat bemused at the end of the bar, three sheets to the wind, bemused by the fact that their mom, dad, best friend, concerned neighbour, hadn’t seen the appeal in them spending entire months hibernating in their basement.

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Charles Shurley
 Posted: Feb 6 2017, 00:27
Quote


Prophet of the Lord

Human

Chess is Offline


75 posts




Chuck shrugged nervously when she questioned his 'someone like me' comment. Even with the humour in her voice, it made him anxious, made him feel like he'd completely overstepped his mark "Yeah... I guess that sounds presumptious though, I'm sorry," he responded, shaking his head apologetically. "I just didn't think it would be all too uncommon for a pretty girl like you to be approached by random strangers," he justified, one hand lifting to the back of his neck, fingers brushing up through his hairline nervously. "But perhaps for less... Pathetic reasons," he added in a low mumble. He laughed softly when she explained that it wasn't quite as he thought, and those that did approach her could be quite varied. It was somewhat comforting to think he probably wasn't the only oddball to approach her, but, unluckily for her, he wouldn't be the last more than likely either. "I imagine I'm another one you can add to the 'all sorts' category there," he joked, laughing softly again and shaking his head. He knew he wasn't the best looking person, or the most interesting, or even the most caring sort of person. He really didn't think he had a lot going for him other than his writing, and even then, he hid behind his pseudonym like it was going to protect him forever and always.

It was difficult to tell if his slip of the tongue with his name was the drink of nerves... He wanted to blame the drink, but that would be ridiculous given that some of his best work was alchol fuelled, and in all honesty, this girl, Clea, was a great deal more laid back than he had perhaps given her credit for, so that was making it easier to talk to her at the very least. Maybe it was just a messed up combination, particularly if you included the random situation. This wasn't his normal approach to anything, let alone to some poor unsuspecting girl in a bar. He wasn't the type to approach random strangers, not since he was in his twenties at least. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Clea," the man responded with a wide smile, hoping that if he didn't stammer anymore, he'd at least redeem some of the ground that he had already lost in being a bumbling idiot.

"Thanks for being so... Understanding," he responded with a smile. He honestly hadn't expected this to go half as well, even as his drunk mouth spouted the truth behind the situation. He wasn't a particularly good liar anyway, and most people could take one look at him and see that he wasn't the kind to just come up to you and strike up a conversation – he wasn't usually the sort to take the initiative. He laughed at her summary of the situation at hand, and was surprised that she really wasn't all that far off. "Yeah, I guess so... Except I'm pretty much set up passed the point of turning into a hermit – I was probably just couple of extended disappearances from achieving my goal, dammit; all that hard work laid to waste!" he joked in a somewhat over the top fashion, shaking a fist in fake frustration, another laugh resounding from him.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as they sat down at the bar, gesturing for the bartender to come over when they had a second. "One of the most sober?" he repeated in horror and disbelief. "Wow, I really dread to think... And don't feel so bad about it now, thank you," he continued, laughing brightly before scanning down the bar for the bartender, who was dealing with another patron. "Speaking of, what can I get you?" he asked, shifting his attention back to Clea.
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