C.Á. McGowan

Thirty-year-old journalist for The Bulletin. Dublin's own Golden Girl and professional sass master. Independent Roleplay Blog for an Original Character

[brighteyedandunknown]

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Claire McGowan (0%) Liam McGowan (0%) (yet unnamed) McGowan (0%)

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[totalslutfordisney]

           Mike and Jaime shared a brief look of uncertainty, and shrugged. Jaime wouldn’t back down on this. Kindness was important in the Sullivan family. Even to Abbey, which seemed to be out of character of her. Jaime had found this girl in a bad place; in a dire situation. Potentially horrendous. He wanted her to see a little bit of kindness. Maybe it could be enough to help her set herself on a different path in life.            “Well, we would be more than happy to have you over.” Jaime said with a bright, but slightly tired smile. He was completely exhausted from work. “Well, we live in a nice area…” Mike proceeded to give them directions, even going so far as to draw a small map. The brothers said their farewells and departed, entirely confused by the encounter.

           “Can you check on the chicken?!” Jaime shouted as he scooped his toddler up into his arms. “It’s perfect, you dolt.” Abbey shouted back. She had her hair tied up in a messy bun with a pen sticking out of her hair. She was wearing her thick framed glasses, and something that passed for clothes. Clearly she was not in the mood for guests. “Marron…. We’re having guests!” Mike said quietly to his twin. She made a decidedly rude gesture as she floated through the house. The doorbell rang. “Mother of Christ…” Jaime muttered, as he wiped his free hand on his apron. “Kitty!” Betty cried, just a Jaime opened the door. “No sweety, Daddy.” He looked out the door and smiled. “Hi!” he said, in his warmest voice, a massive smile in place. Welcoming.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Liam watched from the mirror in the bedroom as his sister skillfully applied her make-up to disguise the fact that she hadn’t slept in thirty six hours and was suffering from withdrawal. “Use my mascara, you’ll look more awake.”

“Ooooh, Benefit, aren’t you fancy!” She cooed back at him in Irish.

He couldn’t stand how nonchalant she was being - or acting, he supposed. Inside she was screaming; she’d told him so herself over a week ago. How did she do it? How could she not talk about this? She didn’t have to scream inside, and yet she did. She chose to.

They left the motel room looking as sharp and well dressed as they always were. Liam wore a shirt and blazer with jeans. Claire wore a blue dress and black cardigan with tights and - of course - high heels, the sort of thing she would have worn around the office.

They shoved one another to get to the doorbell first - Liam won, being a 6’1 to Claire’s 5’0. Claire folded her arms across her chest and scowled playfully just as the door opened.

“Kitty? You...don’t have a cat do you?” Claire asked, peering beyond the door in alarm. She didn’t like cats.

“Hello, it’s good to see you again.” Liam nudged Claire as he smiled back at Jaime. He was going to lecture her about manners again, she could feel it in her aching, tired bones.

“Nice place you’ve got,” She gestured to the front of the house, smiling as best she could. Her head hurt. A lot. She needed a drink, like, five weeks ago when she decided to give up.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[totalslutfordisney]

           The Sullivan brothers watched the back and forward between the Irish siblings. Michael muttered very quietly in Italian to Jaime “Are you getting any of this?” Jaime shook his head absently and replied “Non una parola” <Not a word>. But the brothers smiled and waited for the small squabble to come to a close. They understood. They were siblings. Michael was even a twin. “Well everyone gets into a little bit of trouble every now and then.” Jaime smiled at Claire. “You doing okay now, blondie?” He noticed the way the brother wouldn’t look directly at him. Was he perhaps autistic? Jaime had read about that. Betty had been tested. But she didn’t fall into that spectrum.            “Sister.” Jaime and Michael said at the same time. They both looked at each other and chuckled. “She, uh, she doesn’t have such a great time with her period. It’s rough for her.” Michael said. “Hence the tampons and hot chocolate.” “Her favourite.”             Jaime took a moment, and thought. “Hey, if you guys are staying in Sherwood for the weekend, you should come over for dinner. We always have too much food. And we’d be happy of more company.” he said, talking more to Claire, so as not to upset the brother. “Jaime and I make a mean roast dinner, you know. Roast potatoes, green beans, the works.” Michael boasted. He had a bright grin for both of them.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Claire frowned slightly and pursed her lips at the invitation to dinner. Her eyes hit the grimy linoleum floor, and inside her mind, she went through at least twenty different scenarios in which these two brothers kidnapped, tortured, or murdered herself and her brother.

“If you don’t mind having us, I suppose we could…” Liam took one glance at Claire, and knew. “We could do with a good dinner, right Claire?” He said in as clear a voice as he could without being too loud.

She took in a short, sharp breath, “Hm?” She looked at Liam.

“They invited us to dinner, do you want to go?” He spoke quietly in a mix of Scots and Irish.

“Love to!” She spun on her heel to face the brothers with a bright smile, “Sounds great!”

“If you’re well enough,” Liam nudged her, “She’s the same this time of the month. Awful cramps and stuff.” He still refused to look at them, choosing to look at a shoulder or over their forehead. Claire taught him that trick.

“Don’t be such a mammy…” She mumbled, “Oh, he’s allergic to salt by the way. Possessed by the devil himself, so says our nana.” She blessed herself.

Liam rolled his eyes, colour all but rushing to his pale face.

“Shit...was that rude? Sorry, if it was.” Claire grimaced.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[brighteyedandunknown]

Claire had been held hostage for almost two weeks by her own brother. Schools were on summer break, which meant Liam had plenty of time on his hands to fuss over his sister.

“You still haven’t renewed your visa, have you?” Claire looked at him with her eyebrows raised, “Dogs have a better working memory than you, you are in no position to speak, young man.” “Says she who moved across the country to get away from a boogey-man.” “Too far, Liam. Too far.” “Sorry, sorry…” He mumbled. “How’s therapy going?” “Fine… Doctor Shiki is hot as hell, you’d love him.” “Claire, please do not bang your therapist again.” She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible and charming.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes before disappearing down the aisle with tea, coffee, hot chocolate and biscuits.

Claire spotted a familiar figure examining the selections of hot chocolates. He was a huge man, looked like he worked in construction or something. He was very, very familiar for some reason - and very good-looking as well, despite all the dirt from…whatever his job was.

“Claire don’t wander…” Liam had spotted him too. “Sorry,” she approached him as Liam’s eyes went wide, “Have we met before?”

[totalslutfordisney]

          Jaime turned around when he heard a voice near him. It was that blonde woman. The one that was part of a memory, but he wasn’t quite sure which one. He scrutinised her face for a second, then smiled warmly. “Claire, wasn’t it? Good to see you! I see you took my suggestion of coming to Sherwood.” He was silent for a minute before he realised that she probably had no idea who he was. She had been pissed drunk when they had met. “Uh, Hi. Yeah, I’m uh Jaime. Sullivan. We met in New York a while back. I helped you home one night.” He grinned at the girl, not realising he was being completely charming. He turned his brilliant smile on the man with Claire.           “Hi! Nice to meet you. Jaime Sullivan, fire chief. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you folks out.” He was going to leave it at that, and leave them to their private lives, because he was honestly exhausted. But then Michael decided to return. “I got the ones for heavy flow. You know, don’t want any leakages, or anything. You did have to buy a white sofa. Just saying.” Michael had said all of this before he realised there were other people there. He placed the box of tampons in the cart slowly. “Time of the month, you know how it is.” he said jokingly, before straightening and offering his hand to Claire. “Michael Sullivan, nice to meet you both.”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Claire squinted slightly at Jaime, trying desperately to piece together the puzzle of whatever night she’d met him. She remembered being helped by a large man at some point - a large man she did not sleep with. That she remembered.

She jumped at the sound of someone else, Liam held onto her shoulder to keep her grounded in the moment. “Yeah, her too,” Liam nodded towards Claire. She wasn’t on her period, but she stayed quiet. “She gets jumpy.”

“Shut up, you bleedin’ scaredy cat.” She swatted his hand away but stayed near him. Today wasn’t a good day for her and he knew it.

“Liam McGowan,” He introduced himself, smiling awkwardly and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Claire, the better looking sibling.” She swished her ponytail slightly.

“Reckless eejit more like,” Liam scoffed, then turned to face (but not look directly at) Jaime, “Thanks a lot for helping her. She gets herself into all kinds of situations with the drink,” He sighed shakily. Conversations with tall, muscular and very handsome men were not his strong suit. It made hiding in the closet incredibly difficult.

“Fire chief, huh? You’d hafta be being built like that,” Claire laughed, “You’ll be the one scolding me for leaving so many candles lighting unattended then, yeah?”

“Oh god, how many candles do you have now?” Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Shut up, you, they’re all tea lights in lanterns it’s fine!”

“Liar,”

“Buzz kill.”

Liam grimaced, “You’ve picked up their slang now? I’m tellin’ mammy.”

“You wouldn’t.” He would. He probably already had. “Anyway,” Claire turned her attention back to the two men, “Who owns the tampons?”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[brighteyedandunknown]

Claire had been held hostage for almost two weeks by her own brother. Schools were on summer break, which meant Liam had plenty of time on his hands to fuss over his sister.

“You still haven’t renewed your visa, have you?” Claire looked at him with her eyebrows raised, “Dogs have a better working memory than you, you are in no position to speak, young man.” “Says she who moved across the country to get away from a boogey-man.” “Too far, Liam. Too far.” “Sorry, sorry…” He mumbled. “How’s therapy going?” “Fine… Doctor Shiki is hot as hell, you’d love him.” “Claire, please do not bang your therapist again.” She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible and charming.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes before disappearing down the aisle with tea, coffee, hot chocolate and biscuits.

Claire spotted a familiar figure examining the selections of hot chocolates. He was a huge man, looked like he worked in construction or something. He was very, very familiar for some reason - and very good-looking as well, despite all the dirt from...whatever his job was.

“Claire don’t wander…” Liam had spotted him too. “Sorry,” she approached him as Liam’s eyes went wide, “Have we met before?”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[brighteyedandunknown]

Family oriented. That was usually a good thing. The thought crossed her mind, but stayed there. The alcohol must we wearing off some, which meant that bottle of Captain Morgan's would be finished once she got inside.

"Uh...I..." Claire was speechless. She shared his philosophy, sort of. The world could always use more kindness. "Now I feel weird about calling you hot... Sorry, dude." She laughed breathily, trying not to think about what he had said. She deserved kindness. Yeah, right.

"I'm first floor, Rosa's probably in if I struggle with my keys. Thanks, really. I'd offer a cup'a tea or somethin' but..." Her flat was a mess, and Rosario would come storming into it as soon as they heard the door shut; that was if she could get her keys into the damn lock. “...fuckin, feckin’ keys! Go into the lock yiz arseholes!”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[totalslutfordisney]

          Jaime had no problem keeping the very drunk Claire upright. She was a slip of a girl. All the same, he was aware of the fact that she was a complete stranger to him, so he tried to respect her personal space as much as was possible. “That’s a meaty topic. Must be difficult.” He respected that she was writing on a topic that most newspapers reserved for male journalists. Despite her inebriation, Jaime saw that she had a real drive to her. At least he thought he did. It was hard to grasp her personality beyond her slurred words.           He could see why she might need psychiatric help. If she acted like this often, then she needed help. But the difficult thing was, that sometimes the people who are supposed to help do more damage than good. He couldn’t condemn her choice to run away. “Well I hope you’re safe from whoever that person was.” There were so many things in a person’s life that could go wrong, and Jaime hated that sometimes it was the helpers who went wrong. It made him more determined to help her.           Jaime cracked a smile at her bad joke, and chuckled slightly. “I wish. It would make the nightlife more interesting. No. Cher is living somewhere with less trees and snow, I imagine.” He decided to ignore he comment that he was hot. He felt uncomfortable about that. But he decided to placate her drunken mind. “I promise I’m not going to squish you. Next stop is ours.” He stood up, and held his hand out to her.

[brighteyedandunknown]

“It can be. It’s meaty all right, but you gotta be non-biased - which is feckin’ hard these days I’ll tell you. The paper I work for is good, really. Good people. All tryin’ to just give people information, y’know?” She nodded to emphasize her point. It was exhausting, it was starting to wear her down. But, she’d be a fool to leave a job like this.

“Not a who, a what, a where.” she said cryptically, “More a where… I dunno, I dunno…” She shook her head. There was a who she was running from, but he was running from her too...probably.

“I miss trees…” she mumbled as she took his hand without complaint. “Didn’t snow much in Ireland, but the trees, the birds, the non-toxic river…the lack of guns...” she sighed, “New York is busy, I like to be busy but…” she started to bite her nails, swaying still as she waited for the sub to stop.

She stopped biting her nails as something dawned on her still intoxicated mind. He wasn’t as much of a threat as the others in the bar, but… “Why’re you helping me?” She did not look at him when she asked the question.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[brighteyedandunknown]

“Oh, Christ Almighty, call me Claire, please. I beg of you. Don’t make me feel older than I already do…” She groaned, “Miss McGowan’s my mammy. Rosie’s my nan. Liam’s my brother…probably has a cold shiver running up his spine, Oh Claire’s doin’ somethin’ stupid isn’t she?” she impersonated her older brother’s softer accent.

“Uh, right, Jackson Heights, Queens… Seven sub. Wouldn’t normally get the subway, but sure, I doubt anyone’d come near me with a hulking tank of a man like yourself standing by me.” She laughed jovially.

The city seemed to glitter in front of her, although she was pretty sure that was the sheen of dirt fogging up her contact lenses, or the alcohol. She was less unbalanced with Jaime to hold her up, he seemed to support her with little to no effort.

“You said you were from…Sher…something? Wood something? Crestwood?” She squinted at him.

[totalslutfordisney]

          Jaime helped her to stagger towards the subway station. “I’ll get you home. Come on. Claire.” He paid for her ticket as well as his own, and half carried, half dragged her onto the subway. She weighed hardly anything. She looked like she could do with a good square meal. He helped her to sit down, and he stood across from her with his arms folded. He had the sleeves of his red plaid shirt rolled up past his elbows. It was a bit more chilly down here, at least. Because she was right. New York was very warm right now. He couldn’t wait until he could go back up north to the more reasonable weather.           “So Claire. Tell me about what kind of journalism you’re into. What do you write about?” He was trying to engage her in conversation so she would stay conscious. He didn’t know if she was at risk of passing out or not, but at least she was with a fireman who knew first aid. “What made an Irish Girl want to move to New York to be a journalist?” He came across and sat beside her. He was a big man, so his arm was touching hers. “Sherwood, Oregon. I live up North, where it’s colder.” He liked his home. He had a house and a good comfortable life, and he was able to provide for his little girl.

[brighteyedandunknown]

They were walking down, and it got cooler. Claire was mumbling about something, or muttering, or maybe she was just thinking too hard and thought she was mumbling.

God, she was so drunk.

“I write about politics, and crime. ‘Cause they’re more or less connected all the time.” She slurred her words together, swaying from side to side slightly where she sat. “Moved to get away, that’s kinda how it always is, isn’t it?” She shrugged. “Runnin’ from the law...kinda, sorta. Do psychiatric doctors count as law? Don’t think they do…” She muttered the last sentences.

“Is that where Cher lives? ‘Cause, y’know, Sherwood?” She grinned stupidly at him. “You’re...actually kinda hot, you know? Like, you could squish me. But you won’t, I hope…” She looked at the ground gravely, wondering if he would, indeed, squish her.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[brighteyedandunknown]

“Oh, Christ Almighty, call me Claire, please. I beg of you. Don’t make me feel older than I already do…” She groaned, “Miss McGowan’s my mammy. Rosie’s my nan. Liam’s my brother...probably has a cold shiver running up his spine, Oh Claire’s doin’ somethin’ stupid isn’t she?” she impersonated her older brother’s softer accent.

“Uh, right, Jackson Heights, Queens… Seven sub. Wouldn’t normally get the subway, but sure, I doubt anyone’d come near me with a hulking tank of a man like yourself standing by me.” She laughed jovially.

The city seemed to glitter in front of her, although she was pretty sure that was the sheen of dirt fogging up her contact lenses, or the alcohol. She was less unbalanced with Jaime to hold her up, he seemed to support her with little to no effort.

“You said you were from...Sher...something? Wood something? Crestwood?” She squinted at him.

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

[totalslutfordisney]

          Jaime smiled politely, amused at her drunkenness, but mostly concerned. She was too drunk. He didn’t want someone to take advantage of her. “I don’t sleep with drunk girls. That’s a bit too illegal for my tastes.” The lecherous creep had finally gotten the picture, and disappeared into the shadows like the Gollum he was. “Just some ridiculous testosterone related stuff. No need to worry.” He steadied her again. God she needed help. “Look, if you need help, of course I can help to get you home.” He made a move to guide her outside the bar. Maybe some fresh air would help her. “My name is Jaime Sullivan, by the way. I’m the fire chief of Sherwood.”

[brighteyedandunknown]

“Oooohohoo, I need so much fuckin’ help, hun.” she laughed darkly. She was unsteady on her feet, the open-toed high heels were probably a bad idea - but they were the shoes nearest the door, and she needed to get out of that flat.

“Claire McGowan, journalist for The Bulletin, storyteller, and the only Spanish-speakin’ Irishwoman in Jackson Heights, if we’re goin’ by titles. I was also the thrall of a literal demon for a while. Life’s fuckin’ weird...oooooh I shouldn’t’ve told you that…” She covered her mouth with her hand, then looked at Jaime, “I’m also prone towards extravagant lies. So, y’know.” She shrugged.

The humid night air hit her like a slap across the face, “Ugh, fuckin’...fuck, what’s with New York in summer?! Why isn’t it cold yet?! It’s September, fuck’s sake!”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

@totalslutfordisney

She was over it. She was over him.

That was why she was wandering around New York city, alone, feeling as though she was dying. A city she had come to love and know so well seemed so foreign to her now, dangerous, and full of secrets that were his. The darkest corners of nightclubs, the dimly lit aisles in the record shops, the very depths of her heart - those were the places he lurked.

Did she regret it? Absolutely not. Their moral codes were vastly different. This had to happen. This had to hurt. Things would get better, she knew that. But first, they had to get worse. For that, she was going to get drunk. Very, very drunk.

Claire happened upon a small, nondescript Irish pub somewhere off… Well, she had no idea. She was utterly lost in a city she once knew so well. With nowhere else to go, and a desire to drink herself into blissful oblivion becoming overwhelming, she entered quietly. It was a lively place, but it did little to lift her spirits.

Maybe he did steal my soul.

The pretty little blonde at the bar was targeted by many a ‘gentleman’, but her vacant look and faint mumbling of a name that sounded downright creepy had them scoffing, and shuffling away. She ordered drink after drink, barely speaking to anyone at first. The bartender seemed happy to keep her glass full, and she didn’t really care about her purse getting lighter and lighter.

Boisterous movement coming from behind her caught her attention for a moment, but she ignored it. More patrons. More people.

“Fuck, you’re huge…” The words fell from her mouth before she could catch them as she spoke to the large man beside her, “How’d that happen?!” She seemed to realize what she’d said. “Shut up, Claire, shut up…”

[totalslutfordisney]

          Another year, another gathering. Jaime was back in New York in that same little Irish bar down the street from the precinct. He’d left the New York Fire Department years ago and moved to Sherwood in Oregon to become the Fire Chief. But every year he came back to New York. To remember their fallen. The events at the World Trade Center all those years ago had shaken them all to their core. Jaime still remembered pulling his best friend from the rubble of the building. Seeing his broken, lifeless body… And days before that, the roiling inferno had burned it’s image into his mind.            But every year, he and the other guys from the precinct came together to drink to their memory. And to keep their friendship alive and well. He was throwing back a shot of tequila with a friend, and pulling faces at the taste, when he felt somebody bump into him. “I ate my broccoli as a kid.” he quipped back. People often made jokes about his height and build. He felt it was his duty to always have a smart answer ready. But he looked at the waif of a blonde girl. Really looked at her. She was wasted, no doubt about that. He frowned.           “Are you okay, ma’am? Do you need assistance? You seem to be a little bit…. Well. Inebriated.” He carefully put a steadying hand on her shoulder, afraid that she would fall over. He instantly felt like he needed to protect her. He knew how guys could get. He hadn’t seen it as clearly until he had a little girl of his very. Men would talk to her like that some day. He gave a terrifying glower to another patron who was eyeing the waif up with hungry eyes.

[brighteyedandunknown]

It took Claire a solid thirty seconds to process what he was saying, and whether he was saying it to her or someone else. She was small compared to almost everyone, but when they were as massive as this guy, being helpful and polite?

“Uuuhhh…” She squinted at him, “Define...assistance? Like, helping me home? All the way home? Into my flat, and maybe my bed?” She grinned at him hopefully, “Well, it’s a matress on a floor…. But it’s one of them Ikea memory foam ones, you know the… Who are you glaring at? You’re not gunna get all fisticuffs are you?”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Dancing in the Dark || Closed, Jaime Sullivan

@totalslutfordisney

She was over it. She was over him.

That was why she was wandering around New York city, alone, feeling as though she was dying. A city she had come to love and know so well seemed so foreign to her now, dangerous, and full of secrets that were his. The darkest corners of nightclubs, the dimly lit aisles in the record shops, the very depths of her heart - those were the places he lurked.

Did she regret it? Absolutely not. Their moral codes were vastly different. This had to happen. This had to hurt. Things would get better, she knew that. But first, they had to get worse. For that, she was going to get drunk. Very, very drunk.

Claire happened upon a small, nondescript Irish pub somewhere off… Well, she had no idea. She was utterly lost in a city she once knew so well. With nowhere else to go, and a desire to drink herself into blissful oblivion becoming overwhelming, she entered quietly. It was a lively place, but it did little to lift her spirits.

Maybe he did steal my soul.

The pretty little blonde at the bar was targeted by many a ‘gentleman’, but her vacant look and faint mumbling of a name that sounded downright creepy had them scoffing, and shuffling away. She ordered drink after drink, barely speaking to anyone at first. The bartender seemed happy to keep her glass full, and she didn’t really care about her purse getting lighter and lighter.

Boisterous movement coming from behind her caught her attention for a moment, but she ignored it. More patrons. More people.

“Fuck, you’re huge…” The words fell from her mouth before she could catch them as she spoke to the large man beside her, “How’d that happen?!” She seemed to realize what she’d said. “Shut up, Claire, shut up…”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Twenty four year old freeelance journalist and photographer. Self-taught witch for hire - adept in...

Uhhhh if anyone’s looking for me, I am probably here. Saya has consumed me. My little Scottish witch baby.

[brighteyedandunknown]

See, we Irish have a look to us. Amanda Seyfried has always seemed too glam to be Claire? Does that make sense? 

grumbles and grumbles but will probably stick with seyfried

[brighteyedandunknown]

draws claire. has yet ANOTHER face claim crisis. 

[zerotalentloadsaideas-blog]

When it’s ya OC’s birthday.

Lost my regular pencils, had to use the polychromos. Very pleased with how it turned out I supposed?

[brighteyedandunknown]

i drawz da clur. >.>’

[verybarryallen]

brighteyedandunknown:

Claire took a deep breath, and managed a coy grin. “Challenging an Irishwoman of Scottish descent to a drink-off? You fool, you fool, you fool.” She cackled, but it was half-hearted at best. She took the first four shots without so much as a word, swallowing whatever sorrow was choking her until it settled down the pit of her stomach along with the alcohol.

“Right so, who gets what if whoever wins? Or is it just the smug feeling as one of us watches the other stumble gracelessly around and become an inarticulate mess?” She knocked back another shot, seeming absolutely certain she would win this despite the fact that she’d never won any sort of drinking challenge. But he didn’t know that. Maybe she could trick him into thinking she was sober until he got drunk.

Honestly, the stranger was probably right. Even if she wasn’t Irish, Savitar had only recently regained the ability to get drunk. When he became The Flash, his metabolism had raised to the point where all alcohol went right through him, so he couldn’t get drunk. That meant he had the tolerance of a newborn now.

“A challenge is never any fun without any stakes,” he commented, tipping his head in a quick nod. But what would they wager? “Loser pays the tab,” he neglected to mention that he worked here and could get it for free. “And winner gets one free request. Deal?”

She’d taken five shots, so he downed five in quick succession as well. It was harsh, and he could already feel a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach. “So, what brings you here tonight; alone?”

[brighteyedandunknown]

Claire hummed around the glass of her sixth shot, pointing at the stranger, “You might wanna throw in some terms and conditions there pal, I’m real mean with my requests.” She picked up another drink. Take all the shots, wait for this guy to get plastered, then act sober long enough to win - that was her plan. Whether or not it would actually work remained to be seen.

“I’m here to reinforce the Irish stereotypes.” She shrugged, “Why else would I be here alone? Not as if I left a toxic relationship, have lost a ton of my friends and still miss the fucker or anything…” She laughed darkly, taking another shot. “Why are you here?”