DREA

Do no harm. Take no shit. Beg no man pardon. Drea Vargas.                              (unable to post sun and mon)

[hollowoutthedark]

He has drawn Death again, and he’s shaking again.

It’s just a card. It’s just a piece of paper with a drawing on it. Means absolutely nothing. It’s not even that scary, just ominous, and if you look closely Death himself looks like he could be a little impatient. He’s got a skeletal hand on his hip like hey dude, hurry the fuck up, you’re not the only naked dying knight around and I have other things to get to. The priest looks peeved too, although in Isaiah’s opinion most do most of the time. He laid it flat on the table in front of him, ignoring the twitching in his fingers. The stupid card has entirely distracted him and yet, despite suspicions of a bloodsucker skulking around among them, he can’t pull his attention away to even check his surroundings.

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea sees the boy in Archive again, sitting with his back to the wall, the way she liked to sit when she could manage it. She steps to the register for black coffee today—it’s that kind of day—because she needs caffeine like lifeblood, all that keeps her going after the insomnia and she isn’t about to fuck up her shift at the Pawn. The woman isn’t forthcoming with information, but she has it, she knows something, that Jessica, and Drea isn’t going to walk away from that. She needs to be on full alert, eyes open even if darting. Taking her coffee away from check-out, the dark-haired girl sips it thoughtfully, watching the boy’s miniature crisis. She walks over to him, but doesn’t sit; drapes a hand across the edge of the table.

“Death isn’t crisis,” Drea said, like recalling a memory from girlhood, when things were so much simpler. She didn’t know much about Tarot, but she knew some of the major arcana; they were easier to remember, and they’d used them more. “The Tower is utter destruction and desolation. Death is—transformation.” She shrugs, not knowing if this was a solace or not—did he believe his becoming was his own undoing? There were worse cards to pull. Drea didn’t say anything after that, but simply moved to walk away; the clock was ticking and she had places to be.

[rileygarfield]

Seriously? Not one? That’s disappointing as hell. Can we just, I dunno, take over one of the hick bars and make it cool?

[aintnohero-blog1]

There’s a biker bar called the Roadhouse but there isn’t a lot of room for dancing, and then there’s Outlaw, which is a little less two-step Thursday through Saturday... but that’s about it.

[rileygarfield]

Oh my god, is there anywhere to dance in this town if you’re not interested in doing the two-step?

[aintnohero-blog1]

Not that I’ve fucking found.

[aintnohero-blog1]

When the Pawn: Drea ✘ Roulette

[rideorroulette-blog]

As she was coming out from her office, however, her ears picked up the sound of a nearby girl asking someone about the owner. Interest piqued, she eased forward toward her, only to stop. Heartbeat pounding in her chest, Roulette couldn’t help the feeling that she had somehow seen the woman in front of her. Frowning slightly, she tilted her head and racked her brain, trying to place her face. Through the images of faces filtering through her mind, it wasn’t until Roulette focused directly on the woman’s face - her eyes, more specifically - that she was able to place her. She’d seen her at Coax’s funeral. She shared the same eyes Coax had. Every molecule in her body was screaming but Roulette merely offered her a trained, professional smile. “If you’re looking for the owner, that’d be me.” She tilted her chin up, offering her a hand. “Jessica Lisova, at your service. Can I help you with something?”

[aintnohero-blog1]

The other person behind the counter was being less than helpful once Drea asked for the owner—almost skeptical, suspicious—and that put Drea’s back up. She was concerned that maybe they were expecting her—the brunette hadn’t thought of that—and then if they refused to see her, all would be lost. Drea gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t let them say no. Not after all of this. She was about to open her mouth to be a bit more, well, firm, when a woman with silver in her dark hair walked over, her gaze weighty and professional. Drea’s brows furrowed ever so slightly as the woman who introduced herself as the owner looked more like she should have been a bodyguard. Drea swallowed, rust almost palatable in her mouth, her palms starting to sweat. Wiping her right hand on her jeans, she shook the offered hand and forced a smile. Now that the moment was here, Drea almost didn’t know what to say. Everything seemed so—pushy.

She needed to have answers, real answers. She wouldn’t get them if she made a scene. “Hi, I was looking for you,” Drea said, her low pitched voiced carrying, but not at a whisper, just at a normal, even, conversational tone; she forced it to be. “I have been looking—” a small hesitation, “—for a job. I heard you might have some openings, with the new digs and all.” Drea’s brown eyes were warm, but serious. “And I was hoping you could talk to me about my sister sometime.” Drea watched the other woman’s face, looking for any signs of, well, anything; studying, unsure who she was dealing with, what type of personality. Jessica was an unknown. “Sierra. Think I saw you at the... funeral,” she managed to get out at the end. She was trying to sound tough and composed, but the other woman probably could have smelled the desperation on her, somewhere beneath the men’s Gucci Guilty.

[theostokes]

Mouthing a thank you at the bartender, Jinx took a sip and sighed happily. Nothing could improve a drink spilled on your shirt more than replacing said drink. Tossing the napkins on the counter she shifted so she was facing Drea and nodded. “Booze hounds generally get a little pawsy after awhile and not in an endearing oh let me take you home way. More like a Fuck this asshole should be in jail way.” Shrugging her shoulders, Jinx understood what she meant. As much as she loved a good whiskey and coke, if she wasn’t careful it could lead her trouble. Extending her hand for a shake, Jinx perked up a bit. “Lindsay. Or Linds. Whichever you prefer, friends usually get the pleasure of calling me Linds though.”

[aintnohero-blog1]

The other girl seemed easily pleased with the replacement drink; she seemed easygoing, which Drea liked. She didn’t seem to be someone trying to pry into her personal business, and she liked that, too. “Are you saying I lack the ability to get pawsy?” Drea teased, still finding the categorization amusing. When Jinx extended her hand, Drea met it and gave it a firm shake followed by a smile. She watched the other girl’s face pick up, wondering if she wasn’t approached often, or if she lacked friends. “Well hey, Linds. I’m Drea. Short for Andrea, but I hate that shit.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “So what brings you to a bar in the afternoon, anyway?”

[theostokes]

“Whiskey please.” Laughing, Jinx brushed her hair out of her face before grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the damp spots on her shirt. Most of the moisture had already seeped in, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to still try and get up what she could. “No, see I’m a bit sexist when it comes to that. Females are never booze hounds, we’re just trying to survive. Men? They’re the booze hounds trying to hide.” Nodding, Jinx sighed. “So hard. God bless odd jobs though,” pausing Jinx tried to think back for a bit before giving up on counting. “A few months back. Still readjusting to this thick summer heat though. The devil himself probably leaves here to escape it.”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea gestured the bartender over and paid to refill the other girl’s glass. For a split second too long, she looked at how the brunette dabbed at her wet shirt, before remembering her modesty and looking away. Drea snort-laughed when she said that they were all just trying to survive—and she supposed that much was true. “Well, guess I’m glad I don’t fit into the ‘booze hound’ category. Especially as I’m usually not one for a lot of drinking.” That was a habitual statement; in her best shape, it was better for Drea not to drink... but she was a bit less disciplined than she should be lately. Drea bit her lip at the jobs being hard to come by—what if Jessica wouldn’t take her on? That would make her savings run out quicker than expected. “Yeah, this is way too humid for me,” Drea agreed. “What’s your name?”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Aftershock: Drea ✘ Cash

[allcashedout]

Washing last night’s liquor off of her, it took her less than half an hour to dress, smoke a bowl to chase away the nausea, and leave the random house. Droplets of water dripping down from her hair onto her t-shirt, Cash slid into her car. The hot seats burned her bare legs but she ignored them, wiping her hands on her jean shorts. The drive to the main strip of town didn’t take long and she parked her car in front of Southpaw Ink, figuring she’d walk the rest of the way. She hadn’t meant to stop by the dunk tank, but the mocking and calls by the woman perched in it had drawn her attention. Eyebrow arched at the some of the things the woman had been saying, Cash paid her dues and was rewarded with the feel of a leather baseball in her hand. 

Tossing it up and catching it, Cash pivoted her body. She couldn’t help the smirk that slid over her face as she threw the ball. The splash that sounded as the woman hit the water was so satisfying. She hadn’t been a pitcher on her softball team for nothing. She waited for the woman to surface, amused to see her laughing. As she received a thumbs up, Cash responded with a wink in turn. As she lingered, amusement apparent as she watched the brunette struggle back onto the seat. Cash was only human and a woman in a  red bikini was always a plus to see. Especially with an ass like that. She was turning away when she heard her speak, turning back to arch an eyebrow again. Cash hadn’t expected her to get out of the tank but she stayed put as she was approached. “Hey, me.” She retorted, canting her head to the side. “You need me or something, doll? Because there’s an elephant ear over there calling my name.”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea snorted at the asinine response; “Yeah, you; what, are you someone’s father, with the dad jokes? Cause you sure don’t look it,” she retorted, ringing her hair out as her dark eyes looked the other girl over. “Good arm.” She could appreciate it, even if she herself didn’t throw much if at all. Running was more of a hobby for her; that and working out at the gym were her general physical activities. Somehow, softball had been lost on her. “What the actual fuck is an elephant ear?” Drea asked, trailing up to the platinum blonde who had to double process to keep it that white. “Damn, did I miss the exotic petting zoo—?” she added, full of sarcasm but still entirely unsure what was ‘calling’ to the southerner.

“You’re from around here, yeah? I think I’ve seen you around,” Drea went on, figuring the accent that came out of the girl’s mouth had to count for something, and assuming she wasn’t from roundabouts and drove in for a town’s block party. It sounded like a line, but Drea had just been called doll so she figured it was fair game. “Maybe at Outlaw?” She fell into stride beside the blonde, not sure what part of the party they were headed towards, but if she had information Drea could glean, all the better. “Maybe at Bishop & Pawn?” Drea realized the place was closed, but she was hoping the other girl would correct her, tell her it was closed, and maybe when it’d be opening again. “I’m Drea, by the way, but doll’s close enough.”

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

Trouble with a Capital T || Drea & Mal

Winning was an art. One Mal had no doubt in his mind that he’d perfected. Which was why there was no pause in his step, no hesitation to his strut, as he entered the bar. Her cheeky threats of trussing him up in some baby blue number seemed ambitious at best and just plain stupid at worst. Tongue flicked out to lick at lips pulled taut into a smirk. No, he wouldn’t be losing a damn thing tonight–certainly not his dignity.

He was contemplating a drink when she walked in. Mal had gotten a fair look at her at Big Mama’s, but now that he was looking at her straight on? Had to admit she was pretty. Definitely worth the bet. Maybe even more so if she’d put a little effort in, but c'est la vie. If people like him were top shelf then it stood to reason that the majority of others would fall short.

“Don’t worry, brunette.” Why come up with a new nickname when the generic worked so well? And why actually introduce himself? Better to just march right up and make an impression. “I’ll make your losing as painless as possible. Promise.” A faux solemnness crossed over his face as he raised his right hand. “Hand to God.”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea had lost worse bets than the one she’d posited—and beside, she’d spent too much time at the pool halls in the city to be scared off by some pretty boy with Johnny Bravo hair. He probably didn’t even know how to use a pool cue properly. And if she got to put a photo on Instagram of the guy being even more beautiful than usual with his tropical blue bra, well, that made it all worthwhile. Either way, she wasn’t going to be disrobing tonight. Certainly not for him.

He was at the bar like he was waiting for the right camera angle to bring him into view; she walked in with her dark hair tied up and a black tank top that showed off just the top of her constellation tattoo on her back. She flexed her arms and shoulders behind her until her back cracked, then she patted him on the back. “Hey, pretty boy,” Drea said in reply, not bothering to roll her eyes at the nickname that had less effort than his body spray.

Drink up, she thought; made it easier for his vision to go awry and the careful mechanics of the mathematics of a pool table to get too difficult for him. All the better. “Oh, and I appreciate that, as I won’t be returning the favour,” she replied glibly. “You’ll need God.” With a wicked grin, Drea bent over the pool table to rack the balls, shaking them to settle in properly before lifting the rack. “Ladies first,” she said, proffering the option to go first—or so it seemed. 

Then she laughed and went first anyway, being a lady, or the closest thing to it between them, certainly not southern belle. She broke the balls easily and landed two solids in the corner pocket. Giving Mal a cheeky smile, Drea stepped back and then allowed him a go of it. “Try not to scratch.”

[theostokes]

“Well where is the fun in that?” Laughing lightly, Jinx shook her head. She had learned it was easier to laugh at the mistakes that she made than to mope about them long ago. “This way, I’m the center of attention to all the local booze hounds.” Shaking her head, Jinx sighed softly before sitting down next to the girl. “Not quite, more like a when I’m needed job. I scoured Craigslist and had found someone who was looking for a nanny when they had to work. Pay is shit, but it’s pay. What about you?”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea hitched up the corner of her mouth into a smile; the other girl had a point and her cavalier nature had the brunette warming up, more amused. “Does that make me a booze hound?” she asked, gesturing to the other girl’s hand with a now-empty glass. “Dunno if you’re more a half-full or half-empty sort, but either way your drink is lacking now. What’s your poison?” The girl settled in next to Drea and she realized that she had a Northern accent, too. “Huh, yeah. Hard to find work here? When did you move here?”

[theostokes]

“Jesus..” Wiping the front of her shirt off, Jinx flicked the liquid she had just spilled down the front of her into the air. “You’d think that if I can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, I’d understand that I can’t drink and walk at the same time either.” Looking around briefly she sighed, “Can’t take me anywhere.”

[aintnohero-blog1]

Drea looked around them at the quiet, 3pm crowd of Outlaw Saloon. “Well, you picked a place where it doesn’t really matter, at least, though if you wanted to blend in, you should have waited for the midnight drunks to go first,” Drea said with a laugh, raising her beer slightly in the air in a mock-cheers. Nevermind that Drea was here, beer in hand, so early—it was just a byproduct of her current situation, not something she intended to do frequently. “You got a night job or something?” Drea still hadn’t heard back about B&P, so she wasn’t sure if she had a job herself. Her dark eyes moved to the floor briefly, then back up. 

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

Oh, but I’m not from around here either. Why let ourselves suffocate in all the Southern? We’ve got our own ways of living–and that girlish dignity sounds positively oppressive.

[aintnohero-blog1]

So what I’m hearing is you’re trying to charm your way out of this rather than actually ponying up on a bargain. Luck, for a boy in a bra. Billiards? Texas Hold ‘Em? Or are you just afraid of losing?

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

A whole lot of luck, some more of that sweet talk, and the sight of your bra on my bedroom floor. Bet it’s just as pretty.

[aintnohero-blog1]

Please, like my bra would be anywhere near your floor before I see yours. I do have to maintain my girlish dignity down here in the South, I’m told. But luck—I can probably work with that. 

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

D of all, I like to keep the mystery alive. You want to find out if I’m a leather or lace man, brunette, then you’ll have to get a lot more personal with me.

[aintnohero-blog1]

Oh yeah? What are we talking for me to see your baby blues rockin the Annabelle bra? That one’s a pretty colour and you’re a pretty boy.

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

…the hell did you make me click on? I knew you were a freak, but this is some kind of American Psycho shit.

[aintnohero-blog1]

A of all, you’re the one looking at it, I’m just an inquiring mind, B of all, I’m new here and you don’t know shit about me, and C of all, don’t be a dick about someone’s self-expression. Especially if it’s yours—don’t be shy, now. You more leather or lace, anyway?

[maladick-deactivated20181210]

To the brunette at the table behind me: I see you. Stop reading over my shoulder. Let me eat my damn waffles in peace.

[aintnohero-blog1]

But your interest in men’s lingerie is so fascinating. I had no idea Homme Mystere existed until this moment. On the market?

[lindseymorqan]

lindsey morgan / self assignment magazine 

[aintnohero-blog1]

When the Pawn: Drea ✘ Roulette

Drea rubbed her palms on the thighs of her jeans like some fifth grader at a moving-up dance. The blonde from Saturday said to check back into Bishop & Pawn this week, that they were supposed to be opening their doors again, and that’s where Drea could find Jessica. It was a little frustrating to know that her instincts had been right, but the wrong timing. But the time was now, so Drea had walked down Broad Street almost six blocks until she was standing in front of a pawn shop that proclaimed, Grand Opening! and wondered what it had looked like before. When she went inside, everything seemed very posh and clean, especially for what she was used to seeing from pawn shops on the corner of busy city intersections. The best they had going for them was the metal store-front covers that seemed like garages.

Her dark brown eyes moved over the floor where some fancy looking carpet lie, over the white showcases filled with pawned jewelry, past the paintings that hung on the walls, trying not to get caught up in the case of vinyl. When she got to the counter, she briefly realized she had no cover story, and wondered if she even needed one to get to Jessica—she was the owner, after all. And, well, if Drea was being honest, she could use a job. She couldn’t up and get back into firefighting right now, her mind and heart wasn’t in it and that was a dangerous issue. All her running helped her stay in shape, but it wasn’t enough. Scanning the people working behind the glass counter, Drea wondered which one she could be. Biting her lip, she tapped on the countertop just to show she had an interest in speaking with someone, and when someone came by, she said, “Hey, I’m looking to speak to the owner?”