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Post by rumour on Mar 18, 2011 8:06:05 GMT -5
 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * GENERALLY Rumour tried to avoid two things. Going out in the dark, and loud, packed places. For the girl who depended on her hearing to find her way, and the limited vision her damaged eyes allowed her to see, the dark stripped away one of these small favours, and loud, noisy, packed places the other. So why then, did Rumour Everley find herself in a bar, in the small hours of the morning? Your guess was as good as mine, but it had started an hour earlier when the bar tender had called her home to inform her that a drunken mr. Everley was passed out in the means bathroom, and would she come get him.
Given that her father was a man put into foul moods by a hangover, which was then worsened if a cup of coffee was not waiting for him on the kitchen side when he crawled form his bed the next morning, Rumour doubted if waking with his head in a urinal would bode well on her when he eventually found his way home. Her ribs had only recently stopped making her wince when she reached for the top shelf in the kitchen – she was not eager to add to her rap sheet of injuries now she could cross one of them off.
So, dressed in a pair of old ripped jeans, and a sweatshirt that was a little less baggy than she might have normally preferred, Rumour still managed to stand out like a sore thumb in the bar full of scantily dressed teen girls and young women. Clacking the metal bar in her tongue across her teeth, she caught it in her front and took her hands from her pockets, letting them hang a little in front of her as she made her way through the crowd and towards the bar whose location she knew only from memory.
Now if this wasn’t like a game of frogger, she figured she could only get closer in freaking traffic.
Somehow, she made it to the bar and caught the landlords attention. Her father was apparently out the back, in the garbage. Great. Now she had to get outside. Using the bar as a guide, she followed the landlords directions as best she could, his last comment ringing in her ears. Of course no one ever realised that Devlin had a daughter. She was his dirty little secret, his freak of a daughter.
Once more brushing the metal across the enamel of her front teeth, Rumour was beginning to think this was a pretty much failed attempt at trying to find the back door when a voice she recognised all too well called out from her left. Turning, she winced as her father’s words reached her ears.
“Rumour! What are you doing out! What the hell are you doing here? I told you stay at home you stupid, filthy stinking wretched girl! You’re here to embarrass me aren’t you! Aren’t you!”
Making her way towards him, Rumour was all too aware of the people closest to them falling quiet. Shit.
”Ye dad, I know... come on... you can ground me when we get home.” She caught hold of his arm, but he tried to throw her off, even as she pulled him through the back door he had just walked through, directed only by the breeze as it rolled through the now open space.
“No! Get your filthy stinking hands off me! You do not tell me what to do!” His words were slurred by his the alcohol in his system, and once outside he managed to shake her off with a violent thrust that sent her tripping into the alley.
”Sorry Dad,”She murmured quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the music still thumping through from outside. When he was in one of these moods, even the wrong intonation of voice meant another bruise, a cracked rib.
Great. It was going to be one of those nights.
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Post by caleb on Mar 29, 2011 20:07:30 GMT -5
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Why was it that every time a man wanted to just relax and have a nice, cold beer, the city idiot had to show up?
"You looked at me funny, friend." The drunk slurred, poking a meaty finger into his shoulder. "Waz your problem? Cat gawt your tongue?"
Seriously now. He'd had a long day, had to deal with all kinds of irritating people, and now this? Couldn't the man go and find someone else to vent his frustrations on? There were plenty other saps sitting all around him...
"I said, cat gawt your tongue? Answer me, you bastard!" The man- named Idiot in his sleep deprived mind- grabbed his shoulder, making as if to turn him around.
His right hand came around as he swung his fist into Idiot's chin, sliding out of his stool with a predatory grace. Two more punches brought the drunkard down to the floor, and a round of evil glares later, he was back to his drink.
Much better. Now, where was he? Ah, yes; there are enough saps around here to pick on. But they never got their shoulders poked, did they? It was always him. Poor, poor man.
"God, Caleb!" Hal, the barkeep, snarled from where he stood in front of the kitchen doors. "What'd you do now?! I swear, I leave you alone for a minute...!"
O'Halloran's Pub was one of his favorite haunts; its lazy ceilings and dirty-yet-clean-enough interior a nice relief from the high minded establishments centered around his motel. Here, in the smoke-filled haze, he could relax and deal with the real world, not that gold-gilded cage that those mooks relied upon. It was relief in its finest.
Leaning forward with his elbows on the bar counter, Caleb was a sight to see; tall and well built with a face that was all angles, currently sporting a lopsided, much too amused grin. Green eyes peeked out from behind his shaggy dirty blonde hair, and absently, as he watched the older man limp from the bar to his table- better lecture-access, he supposed- twirled a small, silver ring around that lay on a thin chain around his neck. Dressed in a casual pair of ripped blue jeans and an untucked button up blue shirt, one could pin him to being a handyman, or teacher. Certainly not a complete cliché that was being an ex-con with a temper problem.
Well. Appearances, or so it seems, can definitely be deceiving.
“Yeah, well…he started it.” Pointing at the downed man, who was currently being helped up by the guys he’d come in with. “For once, I didn’t start it. I swear.”
“What you should be swearing is that you’ll actually find a job that’ll keep you out of my bar for more than three hours a day.” The barkeep grumbled. His finger was lifted to shake at him- Hal was a stickler for traditional lecturing, among other things- but whatever words he was about to spit out were swallowed, as his eyes widened behind his thin wire glasses. A look of horror spread across the old man’s face, and that could only mean one thing.
Bar fight.
With a happy roar, various patrons flung themselves at one another and the chaos began. Yelping, Hal proceeded to dive into Caleb’s booth, while the ex-con leapt right out of it. Hell if he was going to wait for Idiot to wake up and call his buddies over! He might love a good fight like nothing else, but he had that meeting with his PO tomorrow afternoon and if he showed up with bloody knuckles and a black eye…
Yeah, no way in Hell was he going back to prison. No way. In hell.
Managing to dodge a few friendly-directed hits at his person, he ducked, hopped and in some cases, flew through the fray; dodging beer bottles and other flying objects. It was kind of sad, how used to this sort of thing he was. Hal’s enraged voice followed him out the door and he grimaced, knowing he’d just burned yet another bridge. Damn, but he was getting real good at that sort of thing.
Shutting the door behind him, he pulled the lapels of his leather jacket up to fight the chill wind and started down the alleyway. It stank of garbage, vomit and other things he was in loathe to think about; a testimony to his current mood. So, when a little slip of a girl stumbled back and into him? He just gave up the ghost and called it a night.
Hopping back a step, Caleb frowned at the girl. She’d apologized…but he wasn’t nobody’s ‘daddy,’ so obviously that wasn’t to him. A quick glance up at the drunk man had his frown deepening, and as he righted himself and caught sight of that resigned expression on the girl’s face, he had an idea of what was going on. Having been under the totalitarian fist of his father back home, he knew the signs and sighed when he saw them.
Okay, definitely time to walk away. What the fuck did he care, if some random girl was getting beaten on by Daddy Dearest? Or…was she just a working girl who’s John’s tastes ran a bit south? Either way; this was none of his business and he had a PO to please tomorrow. He didn’t need any trouble.
Which was exactly why he stopped, put one hand in his pocket so he could strike a nonchalant stance and pasted a friendly smile on his face. To the girl, he offered a little nod. ”Hey there, beautiful. Sorry for bumping into you like that; it just got crazy inside and I needed some air. Is everything alright out here?”
enough words
rumour tagged
PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION template
BLAAARGH. Long and ridiculously random...sorry! It just poured out. XD notes |
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Post by rumour on Mar 31, 2011 7:37:36 GMT -5
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * FALLING into some random guy loitering in the alley was not one of the things on Rumour’s to do list for that night, and she mentally balked when she realised that it wasn’t a wall or rubbish that she had fallen into, but rather a living, and albeit breathing person with enough wits about them to take a step back as she found her footing and her balance amongst the vile stench of whatever she was pretty sure was no coating her shoes. Fabulous. It was times like these that Rumour could be somewhat thankful for her lack of sight, if only so she did not have to know through what excrement and rubbish she had been forced to wade.
Arching a brow at the voice that echoed back to her ears, Rumour played with the bar in her mouth for a moment as she regained her wits before answering. ”Beautiful? I’d get yoursen’ booked into the opticians first thing, get these beer goggles removed. We’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Go back to your beer or whatever you were doing.” She commented, her words off handish as she located her father’s heavy breathing – his lack of retort to the man’s words meant one of two things, and the sound of heaving that followed a second later simply offered affirmation to door number two.
Well, at least he was chucking it up here, rather than at home.
Reaching out, Rumour searched blindly for Devlins arm for a moment before her hand came into contact with the older mans bicep. She gripped it, and found his back with a spare hand, rubbing as her father threw up the contents of whatever he had been drinking that night into the gutter. Grimacing, she turned her head away and back in the direction of the man she had stumbled into without realising, and despite herself, and not knowing whether or not he was even still there, she called out.
”Hey, you still lingering? Couldn’t call us a cab could you? There’s no way he’s walking home, and i can’t carry him.” Her words were true enough – Devlin Everley had and always would be a man who took pride in his outward appearance and the way in which he presented himself to the world, tall and lean, his dark hair was cut close to his scalp to minimise the effect of a circular bald patch on the crown of his head, and he was always well dressed. More than could be said for the daughter who lived in old jeans and sweatshirts and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the hairdressers anyway.
Letting out a startled, yelp like noise as Devlin pushed her away again, Rumour tripped backwards and caught herself on a bin before she fell into the gutter. Straightening, she simply tried again, knowing fine well that eventually the old man would give up and allow himself to be taken home and bundled into bed. Luckily for her, he was past the point of anger now that he was evacuating the contents of his stomach, and well towards the point of simply passing out.
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Post by caleb on Apr 1, 2011 20:09:56 GMT -5
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”Beautiful and humble. Well, fuck me; I think I’m in love,” He drawled with a grin, holding is hands palms up in a ‘I mean no trouble’ gesture.
Well, wasn’t this little girl quick with the tongue? He had to mentally slap himself before his dirty little mind could go too far down that road, and end up getting himself tossed in the slam…again. He practically knew that crap defense attorney’s number by heart, and after the last gig he’d done got him thrown into the county lockup, he knew his ‘bail out fund’ was starting to die a slow, painful death. So he’d be as nice and polite as he possibly could, and be on his merry way. With or without some sarcastic arm candy.
…At least, that’s what he told himself before the schmuck with the bad stomach shoved his girl so hard, she tripped over her own feet and had to grab onto the nearest dumpster for support. She was lucky that damn lid didn’t fall down and snap her fingers clean off.
For all of Caleb’s faults- his drinking, his sometime-drug use, his philandering, violent ways- he still liked to think that he was alright deep down. The fact that he’d hurt people in the past, had killed…it was just a byproduct of how he’d been brought up. Where most kids got teddy bears and erector kits for their birthdays, he’d gotten cigarette burns and ammo. He was raised, trained to be loyal to those he loved. It was just…in his genetic makeup, he supposed.
And out of that loyalty, two very important rules had been established by the men in his life: 1) be loyal to Father; and 2) never hurt anyone who couldn’t fight back.
His ‘family’ had been a bunch of bastards, but they’d all followed the same code; no women and no kids. There had been some bending of those rules, sure…but it was something that had been beaten into him. So, when he saw a guy larger than Rumour take that swing- drunken or no- his first reaction was to take the .45 out of his pocket and put two in his chest.
Street justice. There was nothing stronger.
But the calm, almost resigned expression on the girl’s face had him pausing. Sure, the need to kick the shit out of the fucker chucking into the alley was strong as hell, but it was obvious that if he tried, HE’D be the bad guy. Well…dammit, that just wasn’t right. But that was her problem, he supposed.
With a sigh, the ex-con strolled over to where Devlin was praying to the nearest mold spot and put an arm around the guy’s waist. He grunted when an elbow met his side, and after turning a bit so the gesture wasn’t seen by the daughter, he shoved his knuckles into the guy’s stomach. Another fit of vomiting resulted- thank God he was standing far enough away so his shoes didn’t get hit- and afterwards, the guy was too tired to care who was holding him up.
”Alright, lemme help you get him to the street. But you ain’t gonna be catchin no cab in this part of town at this time of night, girly. But tell you what,” He grunted and hefted the drunk moron up so the guy wasn’t about to slam his head against the dumpster as they turned to face the girl. ‘Cause THAT would be HORRIBLE… ”Lemme give you a ride home. My ride’s around the corner and I don’t got nothin’ better to do tonight.”
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Post by rumour on Apr 3, 2011 9:40:05 GMT -5
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ROLLING HER EYES, Rumour was pushed away twice more by her heaving father before this stranger stepped in, and though her blind eyes tracked the noise of his boots on the alley floor, it took the brunette a moment to realise what was happening, and even then it was all she could do but grasp at straws and take a guess as to what was unfolding before her. Dragging the spider shaped head of her piercing across her pearly whites, Rumour caught it for a moment between her front teeth as she crossed her arms and took a step back from the two.
They needed to get home, but was she prepared to take the guys word on the lack of taxi’s and get a ride with him? Such things where what your parents warned you about when you were younger, avoiding strangers and especially those you might meet in the darkened alleyways between two bars, never mind accepting rides with them. Such things were frowned upon even now, more so when they found your body a few days later. Sure, they’d be all “oh no. Poor thing” But there were always those people who muttered beneath their breath that such a person had it coming, what with going home with a complete stranger. Being blind was not going to help matters if he did decide to take her a different way of course – she wouldn’t easily be able to tell.
On the other hand, she did have her father with her, even if he was somewhat incapacitated. Either way, she had to get him home somehow.
Clicking her tongue, she withdrew the bar back into the confines of her mouth and lifted her hands to her hair, twisting the strands into a loose ponytail that she secured with a band at her wrist, before pulling her hood over her head. A bit of a strange move perhaps, but the air smelled damp and Rumour was pretty sure it was going to start raining soon – plus it distracted her mind long enough for it to make a decision as to whether or not to go with this man and his Irish tones.
”Okay.”She said with a slight nod of her head as she stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. Her eyes flickered across the alleyway, following the small sounds and searching out their source despite her inability to see them. ”But i’m warning you now. I know origami, and there’s a good chance people will miss me if i wind up in a ditch next week. Just so you know. ” She took a step towards what she presumed to be the end of the alley, and paused, waiting for him to take the lead before following a half step behind.
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Post by caleb on Apr 8, 2011 21:02:18 GMT -5
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For every push the girl endured, Caleb wanted to slam the guy’s head into the dumpster in front of them. If it wasn’t for the pained wheezing that came from his introducing his elbow to the schmuck’s kidney, he’d have been really pissed off. Man, just leave it to his subconscious to retain a warped sense of chivalry, rather than an overdeveloped sense of survival. What if this girl were some kind of…freaky lady, whose psycho was molded by Daddy’s abuse? He’d met a lot of those; those crazy girls who would actually kick a guy’s ass for helping them get away from their unloving parent. What if she noticed the way Pops here was holding his side and moaning as he was led down the sidewalk, and she decided to put two in his head?
Well, in any case, he could confidently say that he’d fulfilled his good deed quota for the year. He was putting his life on the line, here…as well as a new pair of leather boots. Psycho girl or no, if this fucker puked in his fucking car…
He hadn’t really waited for an answer from the girl before beginning to haul the drunk toward the curb. He knew the thoughts that had to be flying through her head; ‘is he a crazy, is he a rapist, can I trust him?’ They were all very valid questions and he was definitely alright with waiting by the street while she weighed her options. Hell, it’d probably be better for everyone if she just said ‘no thanks’ and went on her merry way.
Of course she’d say alright. As if he wasn’t on a mission to make his life more complicated. But…BAH, it was just a ride! Giving two people a ride home. Why was he freaking out?
Probably because his gut was. Frikken thing was gonna be the death of him.
”Origami, huh?” He repeated, fighting to keep the smile from his face. ”I’ll definitely remember that, ma’am. I’ll keep my hands to myself and try not to turn up the charm too much. Wouldn’t wanna resemble a paper crane anytime soon.”
They made short time to his car; a tricked out Chevy with an engine to die for. It had been a parting present from one of his closer friends back home, when he’d made the decision to leave and it was his baby. Loading the dad into the backseat, he opened the door for her and motioned for her to get in with a dramatic wave of his hand.
”After you. Name’s Caleb, by the way; in case you need to tell the cops who tried to dump you in that ditch. Caleb O’Shay. Now, without sounding completely shady…where do you live?”
enough words
rumour tagged
PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION template
BLAAARGH. Long and ridiculously random...sorry! It just poured out. XD notes |
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Post by rumour on Apr 11, 2011 5:00:46 GMT -5
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * DAMNIT he knew what Origami was. Half the guys she spun that line to decided to leave her alone through fear of being seriously injured, the other half had no idea what the hell she was talking about and left her alone anyway. The last thing she was expecting was for this guy to actually know what she was on about. Still she let it slip – guess you can’t judge everyone using just old MTV shows and their accent as indicators. Damn she hoped he’d been drinking Guinness tonight, otherwise her entire world view had been thrown. ” actually, I only know how to make a rose, so unless you wanna see if you can still walk with your feet round your ears then yeh, keeping your hands to yourself is definitely preferable.”
Hands shoved deep into the pocket at her front, Rumours fingers fiddled with the pen shaped object the found there, though she neither withdrew it from her pocket or attempted to use it. Very rarely in fact did she ever use the damn thing, preferring to simply learn her way around, obstacles – t least the Permanent one. No. For now she was concentrating on creating a map in her head so she could work out how to get back to her house. Well. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to give him directions whilst they drove was it?
She heard the car door opening and presumed of course that they had reached the vehicle, though any aesthetic points were completely lost on her, as was the his needless worrying that she would notice her father huffing and wheezing – he could have thrown him into the bins and told her he tripped for all she would know the bloody difference. She was putting it all down to his last appointment with the sidewalk anyway.
”O’Shay? Seriously? Wow. Guess you pulled out all the stops, what with the Irish accent and all. All you need is some potatoes... ” She smirked as she slipped past him, using her fingers on the doorframe of the car to get inside, she waited until she heard his door open before answering his question. ” 22 Polton Drive. Out of here, turn right, third left, fourth right, second left then straight on till morning.” There. Easy enough.
”Its Rumour, before you ask. He’s Devlin. ”
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Post by caleb on Apr 16, 2011 15:30:16 GMT -5
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Caleb couldn’t help the chuckle that slid through his chest at the girl’s fighting words. She definitely had some guts, that’s for damn sure; standing up to a tattooed ex-con like himself. He could’ve turned around and hit her with a really nasty retort; something along the lines of ‘talk to me like that, and I’ll fuckin’ shoot you in the face…’ but he figured that it was unwarranted. He was helping her out with Pops over here, and the reply she gave him was more of a street greeting than anything else. It was obvious that Little Miss Hard Ass spent a good amount of time living around the harder tracts of life, given the bite.
It was well known in his circles that threats were made to prevent any future mishaps. If the other dog knew that you had fangs and weren’t afraid of using them? That you had the maglairl (balls) to stand up to the potentially nasties…well, then they would think twice about gunning for you. It was a lesson he’d learned real early, growing up in his household. So he had to respect the little firecracker for putting him in his place.
It was when she decided to start making fun of his name that he turned around and gave her a scowl.
He kept quiet; ‘helping’ her father into the backseat- more like shoving him face first into the rear view mirror- with the mumbled threat of dismemberment of he vomited on the seats, and buckled himself in before turning back to reply. ”Hey, this how you gonna treat a guy tryin’ to help you out? Make fun of his family name? I’ll have you know that the O’Shay bloodline is very prestigious; even related to a few kings, before the damned English moved in. So come off it, girly; there’s some t’ings you don’t make fun of, when you’re talking to an Irishman, and his name’s one of them.”
Figuring that that was the best admonishment that was likely to come out of him, sans cussing and gunshots, Caleb stuck the keys into the admission and started the engines, pulling out of the lot and into the street. Why did he have a feeling that this was going to be a long ass car ride?
”And anyway, with a name like Rumour? Are you really gonna be makin’ fun of my name? Now, tell me where we’re headed, darlin’.”
enough words
rumour tagged
PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION template
BLAAARGH. Long and ridiculously random...sorry! It just poured out. XD notes |
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Post by rumour on Apr 17, 2011 15:40:10 GMT -5
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * RUMOUR BLINKED, somewhat surprised at his outburst on the adages of the family name. Now there was something Rumour knew very little about, such things as family pride, respect for family names. Hell, if you were going to be completely honest about the whole thing, what family meant to Caleb was probably rather more than a stone’s throw from what it meant to the dark haired girl in his passenger seat. Or at least, this is what she might guess, for though he might guess at the relationship she had with her father from the way they acted around each other, she could make no such assumptions of him.
”Sorry. No harm intended. Never met an Irishman before... and, i am thankful for the ride. Really.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was all she had going for her right then, as she really couldn’t come up with anything better. She supposed she should apologise for the potatoes thing too, but she was trying to keep up her routine, her abrasive attitude. The one that would make him want to get her and her father back to her house as soon as possible, and then hopefully never want to see her again. Especially not to the point where he might, god forbid, wave at her in the street or something. She’d made that mistake once – never again. But at least she had apologised, if nothing else.
”Yeh well. My parents were feeling pretty mean that day. Hell if they’ve ever had a day they felt a little better.” She grumbled, turning her head to ‘look’ out the window, she opened it a crack, listening for the tell tale change in sound that meant they were passing a turning, so she could count them off on her fingers and make sure he wasn’t trying to take her to a ditch after all, given that she had just managed to insult him and all.
”I said didn’t I? 63 Polton Drive. Its the right after we pull out of the car park, then the third left.”
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