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PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 15 2017, 10:12 PM
nakahara chuuya was pissed, in more ways than one. though by way of blanket statements, it was about as valuable as saying "chuuya was conscious" or "chuuya was alive", because when was he not some shade of annoyed or drunk (or both)? those states of being made it bearable to, well, continue to exist, and he was perfectly fine with slugging and sloshing his way to kingdom come. sex could play a part, too, though it never quite left the same aftertaste as with the one man he'd loved.
fine wining and dining were his preference, but without much money to do that yet, holing up in some middle-end bar was as good as he was going to get. on his fourth cocktail of the evening so far, he rebuffed the busy patrons who wanted to sit next to him or hit him up, even if they were pretty; none of them appealed to him in the slightest or even talked to him in the way he wanted. though that didn't stop him from yelling over his shoulder and contributing to their stupid conversations and arguments.
it was natural to underestimate the solitary redhead (probably only five foot high without his hat and a hundred pounds sopping wet without the rest of his attire on). but once he punched out the lights of one aggressor without even blinking, then kicked down his friend and held him down without breaking a sweat, the saloon-goers eyed him a little differently. the bartenders did give him warning looks - though violence was commonplace in a popular establishment such as this, they still didn't want someone so dangerous bullying their patrons.
snarling in his throat, chuuya picked up his cloak - which had fallen off his shoulders and onto the sticky floor in the attack - and shook it out before slinging it over his shoulder. he sat back down, bloody well planning on finishing his soixante quinze... or an approximation of it, as these drink mixers kinda sucked. he was fucking morose. see, he didn't really feel like joining one of the mafia groups around here; they simply wouldn't be the same as the one that was his family. he missed big sis kouyou, and mori-sama - who might not even make it - and all the guys who he could count as friends. hell, anyone from his world would be a pleasant sight now, even those on the enemy side.
he slowly drained his glass and set it down, his mind and body abuzz. with no proper outlet for all his strength and frustration, he wasn't sure what he was going to do tonight. maybe find some more alcohol somewhere and keep drinking until he was unconscious. as he got up, fixing the angle of his hat and stalking out of the clamour of the bar, he thought he heard someone new approaching him. damn, not again... and he was nearly out of here, too.
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 16 2017, 01:49 PM
shove your kiss straight through my chest
i must confess i'm addicted to this
She'd been sitting in the corner of the bar watching him pour cocktails down his throat for an hour, his aura radiating anger and misery. Actually, she'd been watching him since he walked in the door. It wasn't many men that caught her eye like that, even if it was mostly because of the way his aura lit up compared to the rest of the people in the bar. Sure, most of them were angry or depressed or trying to drown some sort of feelings in booze, but their colors were dull compared to the redhead's. Fiery as his hair, as cliche a statement as that was.
Jeanette had been debating the entire time whether or not she actually wanted to approach the man. She could always use a bite, but she could grab any drunkard in this bar if that was all she was after. And he didn't look like he was after company. He turned away every single person that tried to slip into the seat next to him - and that was quite a lot of people, given that he had a pretty face and what looked like a nice enough body from the angle she was at.
All of those emotions wrapped up in such a small, tightly-wound package. It was intriguing, really - she wanted to know what had gotten him so wound up, even though she didn't know a single thing about him. With some drinks in him, he was more likely to spill the bills if she played her cards right. And maybe once she had satisfied that curiosity, she could learn more about the redhead.
She wasn't the type to deny her promiscuity. Therese had always looked down on her for being so willing to take a kine to bed, but Jeanette didn't see anything wrong with it. Perhaps they weren't as capable of bringing her pleasure as other Kindred were, but knowing how soft and vulnerable kine were in comparison made the act even more exciting for her. Some scoffed at the notion, but Jeanette had never been one to listen to the opinions of the vampire world at large.
The man got up to leave, and she got out of her seat, abandoning her untouched drink - it wouldn't have done her any good to drink it anyway, it was just for show - to follow him. He'd only made it a few steps out the door by the time she caught up to him and draped an arm around his shoulders, stepping right into his personal space. "What's got you so angry, sweetheart? Want to... talk about it?"
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 21 2017, 09:11 PM
He was too drunk to react with his usual swiftness, and that could have been the death of him; for all he knew, the approaching person was one of the buddies of the guys he'd knocked out, ready to stab him in the back. The nature of the pursuant footfalls behind him, though, told his instincts that it was someone else, with something else in mind. They weren't sneaky and they weren't vicious, either. Just dogged enough to catch up with him. (It wasn't hard to do so. His strides had always been short, and he wasn't walking in as straight of a line as he thought.)
Half a snarl burst out of him anyway, his petite form shrinking down from the arm that wrapped over him. (Deep down, he didn't want to escape; he'd been waiting all night for the right person to embrace him.) He glanced at the woman who was disturbingly close to him, wondering if she'd been a bar-goer; he hadn't paid attention to any of the people in there, though he definitely didn't recognise her as someone who'd already approached him.
"Honey, talking ain't gonna do much," he said roughly. "Hands off if you don't want me to throw you so hard that you fly all the way into the building a block away an' that your skull smashes. If you were watching me in there..." his tone dropped, "you probably saw what I did to those guys when I got mad. That's only a fraction of my strength, you know. So get away."
He meant it as a warning, rambling as it was, as well as his usual boasting. Most of his regulation efforts at the moment went into minimising slurring and enunciating things properly. Anyway, the point was - he could easily have picked up any of the attractive people in that saloon, but in his current state, sleeping with them would probably kill them. And he didn't particularly like killing random people who had helped him to pleasure. He had nowhere to vent, nothing to do... maybe he'd end up heading over to the Edges, where he could break apart a few abandoned buildings and no-one would get hurt or care.