Cal Fleischer

owner of the tail end | witch | pipe weasel

[vievecorcityrp]

CALVIN FLEISCHER

GENDER: Male

SPECIES: Witch | Animal Magic (Shifter) and Shadow Magic | no coven

AGE: 73

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

OCCUPATION: Owner of The Tail End

DISTRICT: Chissob Hills

HEADCANONS:

Cal will never, ever, EVER tell you about his past. At least not truthfully, but the life he had before moving to the city was violent and oppressive. In some ways, he’s textbook Freudian, with some of his interesting habits having been established during his time hidden away in the Kentucky backwoods. 

He loves animals, and he especially has a soft spot for the ones that are deemed pests or repulsive. Animals such as opossums, rats, and coyotes were some of his favorites to interact with, and he seemed to follow suit in terms of pest-like when he learned to shift into a stoat. 

Cal had a falling out with his family and coven with him being mysteriously exiled, and he hopped from place to place before landing in Vievecor. The city is not his ideal place, especially as someone who has spent the majority of his life in the woods, but he found a lot of opportunities that he couldn’t back home.

His pet store is a front, more or less a way to launder money while also giving animals a place to call home. He has an insatiable itch every night to wander into people’s homes, even if it’s just to look at how they live or what they have. However, mostly he is looking for items to steal and then sell at various pawn shops around the city. He affectionately calls himself the Pipe Weasel due to him knowing the pipe systems of the city. It wouldn’t be surprising if he stole from you! 

As stated before, he has some interesting habits outside of his kleptomania, which includes his dark-rooted taste buds. While his exile remains a mystery, one could guess it could have something to do with his desire to consume flesh that isn’t grocery store products in nature. In some ways, he derives a sense of power from consuming others (humans, werewolves, etc), and he believes that certain blood and sinew holds properties that normal magic couldn’t derive. He has also not shied away from taking  bite from those who were sleeping during his thieving. 

He loves to cook for others, and if they don’t eat food, he is very, very happy to offer himself up as blood bait. It is his way to offer what he takes. He is not delusional by any means, but as someone who does believe in the power of nature, he knows that nature comes with a balance.

PERSONALITY: Charismatic, Diplomatic, Adaptable, Deceptive, Hypocritical, Self-serving

CHARACTER TYPE: Skeleton - The Pet Store Owner

BLOG: @calvinfleischer

[calvinfleischer]

Name: - Calvin Fleischer

Age: - 36

Role: - Animal Coordinator and Recently Divorced Dad

How Long They Have Been Working in Hollywood: 1 Year

Bio: Calvin is the new kid on the block in terms of backstage prep. For the majority of his life, he worked on farms as a cattle tender or at zoos caring for the bigger animals. He joined a travelling circus in his mid-20s, handling the tigers and elephants. He always had a way with them.

However, at a stop in LA, he hooked up with a woman, and she became pregnant. He lived the married life with her and their son for a few years, but it was a rocky relationship. Yet, she had some credibility to her name, and though he never wanted to pursue the film industry, he wanted to at least try it out. He works on sets as the animal coordinator, ensuring their placement and safety.

Connections: Jo - They are a something lol TBD or NPC: Ex-Wife TBD

[calvinfleischer]

where: the tail end with: @vivian-ambrose

---

It was still early morning, and Calvin had only just opened the shop after making his rounds to settle everyone in, though that was generous wording. The animals here lived in a harmony that fascinated most first-time visitors. Birds perched contentedly near cats, dogs shared space with rabbits, and even the ferrets kept their thieving paws to themselves. From the outside, it looked like Calvin simply had a way with animals. Those on the inside understood it was magic keeping the balance.

He’d been in the back checking on Poppy, the chupacabra puppy, and a handful of other oddities when the bell over the front door chimed. Calvin tucked Poppy back into her nest of soft goat skins, earning a disgruntled huff, then slipped through the shadowed doorway that led into the shop proper.

The scent hit him immediately. Dog and old blood. Interesting mix.

He bypassed the counter, scratching behind the ear of Smiley—the perpetually sour orange cat always draped near the register—before turning his attention to the customer. His posture was easy, but his senses were anything but relaxed. “Mornin’,” he said lightly. “Let me know if you need help findin’ anything.”

[carmenlagreve]

open starter | the library

@vievecorcitystarters

The library was always quiet, but today it was silent. Carmen thought she might be the only one left there aside from the elderly woman that sat on the reception. She was sure her father had made sure she had been employed on purpose, purely so that there was a very minimal chance Carmen could possibly interact with someone dangerous. She stood by her cart, quietly slotting the books back into their correct place om the shelves, when she heard some noise coming from the small cafe located at the entrance of the library. It was a new addition, one that some of the clubs the library ran used for their meetings, but was also open to the public.

Awkwardly, she watched the person ordering at the counter. Not realising she had crept up on them, the words that came out of her mouth were no less awkward than her movements. "What did you order?" She asked, peering over their shoulder. "It looks nice."

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin wasn’t much of a reader, but libraries always had an atmosphere to them. The smell of old paper and dust was grounding and nostalgic, tugging at the memories of his family’s study. That place had been packed with grimoires and half-forbidden texts, generations of witchcraft crammed into sagging shelves. He doubted there was a single book like that here, though.

Unless they were hidden…

Admittedly, that was the worst part of being covenless — the lack of resources. Still, he wasn’t in any hurry to be initiated. The Remingtons were an option, technically, but Elijah running the coven made his skin itch. Calvin didn’t need a councilman looking too closely at what he’d been doing since he arrived in Vievecor. Or anyone not worth knowing too deep for that matter.

He startled when a soft, cheerful voice broke through his thoughts, skin rippling as he turned too quickly. It wasn’t often someone got the drop on him; small animal instincts usually saw to a guarded state, and careless could get you killed here.

“Oh. Uhhh…” He glanced back at the menu, momentarily blank, just as the barista set his drink on the counter. Calvin picked it up and held it between them, sheepish. “Nothin’ fancy. Just a hot chocolate.”

He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Between you and me, though, I don’t even like the stuff. Barista talked me into it.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Guess I got preyed on, huh.”

[detectivejdarling]

Jo scoffed, her gaze skating past him. "Using less didn't do the trick." He'd walked away, only to snap back like a particularly vengeful rubber band. "I could also try to use none, but I don't think you'd like that," she said, a clear threat swinging through her words as her eyes cut back to him.

Though it would've usually elicited another strong response from her, Jo didn't react to his use of that loathsome nickname. If only because minutes ago he had been committed to pretending he had no idea who she was. Now, he had either given up the act, or he was too high on the sound of his own voice to notice. Either way, it only earned him a tired role of her eyes. "Like what? Please enlighten me."

She didn't move immediately when he stepped back, nodding her chin at the exit instead. "Who said I was going to let him hit me?" Once, maybe. Just so everything thereafter could be considered self-defense. He'd seemed like he'd have a good right hook, proper uppercut too. A couple of bruises, a busted lip, a split brow—sure as hell would've given her something to focus on other than Victoria. "He wouldn't be the first person to raise their hand at me." No, him she'd been related to. She would've needed help then—now she didn't need anyone. "Or the first person to regret it."

"But well done." She pulled the cigarettes he'd freed for her earlier from her pocket and plucked one from the pack. "You showed some basic decency. —Now if you'll excuse me." Already flicking the lighter, she placed it between her lips and moved past him toward the door.

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin caught her gaze, his eyes narrowing in challenge. What a firecracker! Maybe he should’ve stepped back and let her handle her own mess just to see if she could back up her words, but he was already in too deep. He’d been checking in on her from time to time as her unknowing shadow. Nothing weird, he hoped. Just keeping tabs on her usual haunts and routines the same way he did with most of the VCPD.

At her question, he shrugged casually. “I’m just wonderin’, even if I don’t know,” he said. “Most women who have zero interest in a man give him the cold shoulder. I’m gettin’ somethin' more along the lines of...lukewarm.” His smile widened, matching her defiance, though he knew they were playing entirely different games.

She didn’t know him. To her, he was just some random guy in a bar. One who’d shown off his cigarette machine skills and then nudged her toward being alone. Creepy, sure. He wasn’t blind to that. But it beat standing by while she got clocked.

When she didn’t move, he crossed his arms and stayed rooted. She had every chance to walk away unhindered, and now that the man had been dragged out, Calvin felt a little better letting go. He listened quietly as she spoke, studying her face for the crack in her armor. He’d always been good at slipping into places he didn’t belong, and he could tell she was starting to open. Just a fraction. A foot in the door.

He waited a beat after she finished, then shrugged again. “I know what I saw,” he said lightly. “And his fist was about the size of your face. No amount of toughness stops a clean headshot. Not unless you’re secretly superhuman.”

He wrinkled his nose toward her without thinking, then caught himself with a sharp inhale, like he was fighting off a sneeze. Rubbing his nose, he nodded to himself internally. Human. Undeniably human.

When she passed him, he pivoted to give her the right of way. His smile softened, turning unreadable as she went by.

Oh boy. He was in trouble.

[daphne-blackwood]

"Indeed, many an item in the museum was once someone's treasure, yet now it lay on display for all to enjoy." She guided him through the hallways, occasionally pointing out what section of the museum they were passing. "I didn't know that about the Mona Lisa. I know that her fame came about as the result of a robbery. It just goes to show that some times we need to point out the value of something for another to see its true worth."

She chuckled. "Fancy words for different art movements. I have a friend who deplores anything modern. And if I may confide in you, sometimes some of the pieces even baffle me. We once had a painting hanging upside down. No one knew until the artist had a fit during a gala. Of course the painting was righted, but it looked much the same to me."

"Ah, here we are." She smiled, taking out her key to open the locked door. "Usually this is only a weekend exhibit as those who come during the week are either school trips or patrons who have seen all the displays oodles of times before." She stood before a board full of buttons and sliders. "Although it doesn't look like much at the moment, when I turn off the lights, this becomes our universe. Welcome to the planetarium. Care to explore the stars?"

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin followed her doggedly, paying attention to everything she pointed out. Despite her knowledge and enthusiasm, he couldn’t quite see the point of art beyond the chance to make a quick buck. Maybe he’d come back after hours and lift a few pieces to sell on the black market. Art was one of those lucrative oddities—valuable mostly because the rich folk liked proving they owned something expensive and ultimately useless.

At the mention of the Mona Lisa being stolen, he snapped back to the present and turned to her, expression light. “Really? Can’t say I’m shocked. You always hear about art capers and things like that.” He paused at her last comment, choosing not to respond. It felt too pointed, as though she were hinting at something beneath the surface.

He leaned closer, nearly brushing shoulders, sharing a moment that felt oddly conspiratorial. “Sounds like you and I have the same eye,” he said with a grin. “Modern art is what...a dot in the middle of a canvas meant to represent the artist’s failing soul? I wonder how many bottles of vintage wine it would take to come up with somethin' like that.”

Laughing, he followed her into a locked room. His smile turned a little weaselly as he stepped inside, sweeping the space with a practiced eye. If a room was locked and only accessible at certain times, there was usually a reason. Something valuable, to the right buyer, at the right price.

But he was met with the planetarium.

His heart sank, and he smoothed the disappointment from his face. So much for being an art thief. If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t have known what to steal anyway.

“Well,” he said lightly, “stargazing with a pretty lady’s been on my bucket list for a while, but you can’t exactly do that in the city.” He flashed her a warm smile as he took a seat near the center of the auditorium. “So, take me away, Space Captain.”

[nakatomi-ayumu]

“I suppose I did start it,” Ayumu gave him that. “But what do you expect a wily creature like me to do when you dangle yourself in front of me like the prey that you are?” they sounded almost wounded as they confessed, but Ayumu had to give the witch credit for being lucky enough with his animal form to remain safe during this zombie apocalypse.

“I bet,” the spirit agreed as they regarded the other with a slow blink of their human eyes, as if the predator was still watching their meal, not that Ayumu even needed to eat. It was all about the thrill of the chase now and had been for a long, long time. “What is your name, witch?” Ayumu asked. They did not need another person in their trio of Diego, Gloria and themself, but it did not hurt to keep tabs on the others in the city.

[calvinfleischer]

“I did no such thing! And besides, you’re a terrible predator,” Cal spat, scuffing the ground. “Playin' with your food when you should just kill it quick and eat. Vile.”

Despite the acerbic words, it didn’t quite reach the glimmer in his eyes. Cal had to admit it was a relief to meet another animal shifter, let alone a handsome one. They were a rare breed, after all, even if this one carried little scent at all.

A spirit, then. That explained why he couldn't catch any musk that typically lingered around canids.

“So what’s it to you, fox?” he drawled. “You already made me change back into a man when I was just tryin’ to get into that building with the cure.”

[atwoodesq]

"Its quite alright." He chuckled a little, unslinging the pack off of his back and dug around a little bit before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and handed them over to the witch. He was suddenly glad that he had a extra clothes on him not that it was any bother to him but he was sure that it would make the witch more comfortable. "I usually carry extras just in case."

"Yeah just the two, however neither of them are shapeshifters like yourself." He gave a smile, "We haven't been able to see many others, I'm pretty sure there's a few others but I'm not sure where they are in their entirety." He'd heard a rumor of a few and seen some before but not in a long while.

"Do you need food or anything? I've not got much but I should have something to share."

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin accepted the sweatpants gratefully. With a sheepish smile, he turned away and slipped them on quickly, shifting his legs to test the fit. “Feels kinda strange wearing pants again,” he admitted quietly. “After all those years with the natural kind, y'know.”

He turned back to the other man and shook his head, resting a broad palm against his stomach. “I’ve been well fed this whole time. Perk of being able to turn into a predator, I suppose,” he said with a wide grin. “Still, it’s interesting. I’ve been wondering how the other witches have been faring. There aren’t many like me, and I figured they either fled or… well.”

His smile faltered, turning solemn for a brief moment, before he pulled himself together. “Anyway, I wasn't in a coven, then, so it's not as if I lost anyone, but I won’t make myself too comfortable if this is your safe place,” he continued. “I was actually on my way to look into whether that message about a cure is real or not.” He glanced at the spirit. “I’m guessing that doesn’t concern you much.”

[detectivejdarling]

Jo registered the way the man went down a little too neatly for a drunk with bad balance, and while she couldn’t say how or why, it set her teeth on edge. First the vending machine, now this. She let him steer her toward the corner, her mouth set in a sour line and her shoulders tense under his arm, but she did not put up a fight. Drawing more attention was the last thing she wanted, and if standing next to him meant the rest of the patrons decided she was being dealt with, she could live with that.

Still, the moment he boxed her in, her posture stiffened further, shoulders squaring even as she stayed put. For a split second, Jo weighed her options—a knee to the groin, a foot to the shin, an elbow to the ribs—before deciding she did not feel like spending her night in a cell explaining herself to one of her colleagues. “No,” she said flatly, her eyes flashing with something reckless as she shrugged. “It keeps things interesting.”

Her eyes narrowed as his tone shifted, unimpressed rather than flustered. “And let’s be clear,” she added, voice dry. “If I were trying to flirt with you, you wouldn’t be wondering about it.” She leaned back just enough to make the lack of space obvious, her chin tipping up in challenge rather than fear. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with me,” she said calmly. “And you’re really not my type.”

She released an irate scoff and turned her head away, even as he continued to block her field of vision. “I’m fine. Never been better. I actually had it handled until you decided to make it a production,” she said, tone cool. “But hey. I appreciate the effort. It was almost subtle.”

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin grinned wide. He hadn’t meant to herd her like a spooked cow, but if anything, it might save her a lot of trouble—paperwork, explanations, and whatever other mess came with getting tangled in shenanigans as an officer. And what was Cal if not a helpful hand when it mattered?

You wouldn’t even know what to do with me…

The words rang like a challenge. He was smarter than to take that bait, though. Instead, he laughed and shook his head. If only she knew. He had a bad habit of gravitating toward the belittling and violent type. Maybe it was some half-baked Freudian issue, considering his parents were—or rather, had been—overbearing and dismissive themselves. Or maybe it was just a weasel thing. Stoats weren't exactly known for their gentleness when it came to intent.

He stayed quiet through her rant, nonetheless, nodding at the right moments, laughing in the right places. When she finally finished, he let out an exaggerated sigh.

“That was a whole lotta words just to tell me I don’t stand a chance,” he said lightly. “But don’t mind me, Miss JoJo. I was only pullin’ your leg. Though the way you got so defensive about it…” He chuckled. “Makes me wonder if there’s somethin’ you’re not sayin’.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The bar had already lost interest. The show was over, the man had been dragged out, and everyone had gone back to their drinks.

Calvin took a step back and swept an arm out in an exaggerated, courtly gesture—an invitation for her exit.

“You really are somethin’, y’know,” he said. “Handled? You were gonna let that guy hit you for—well, I don’t even know what reason. Maybe a professional could figure that out.” His tone softened just a notch. “All I know is, it ain’t my style to stand around and watch a woman get hit. Doesn’t matter if you could’ve handled it or not.”

[daphne-blackwood]

Daphne blushed at the praise. "Well I'm sure my piano teacher would be thrilled to hear that I've retained something after all these years." She could still remember the gray haired woman demanding that Daphne sit up straighter and work on her scales. Now that she could lose herself in the music, the hours of practice were actually worth something.

The brunette chuckled, wiping the keys down. "If you don't tell, I won't. It just seems so sad. I know that were are preserving the beauty and history of the item, but in doing so, we are neglecting its purpose. It was meant to be used, but in using it, we wear it down." It was a cycle she often pondered on. A ring or piece of pottery was supposed to simply be pretty, but having items with functions remain behind ropes and glass somehow felt wrong.

"Not one for post-impressionism or cubism then." She bit her lip thinking. Impressionists wouldn't hold much of an allure either in all likelihood. There were the masters of old, but something told her that they wouldn't be to Cal's taste either. They already were in the history wing. Then there was the science wing. He was too old to play with some of the interactive displays that catered towards the children, but there was one area that came to mind. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin nodded thoughtfully, his head tilting with mild curiosity. He’d never been much for art—unless it was small enough to steal and resell. His pet shop stayed busy, but it wasn’t quite enough to get by in this city. Maybe if he were a different kind of person, he’d see more value in things like this.

“Sometimes things have a purpose in one age and a different one in another,” he said. “Like the Mona Lisa. That was a wedding gift once...I think. Now it’s just something people stare at and get shocked over because it’s smaller than they expected.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna lie to you, miss. I don’t know what either of those words mean. Even if you showed me, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

At her next question, he shrugged. “Nope. I was born in the dark and spent most of my life there. I’d call it a second home.” A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “But I’m guessing you’ve got something more interesting in mind to show me.”

[calvinfleischer]

[nakatomi-ayumu]

"Boy?!" Ayumu scoffed as they eyed what was left of the other man up and down as his head bobbed in the shadows. "Who's the actual boy here?" they jeered, taking in the man's childish antics. How dare he speak of cooking Ayumu? The audacity!

"I owe you nothing," they laughed, an equally loud sound because Ayumu hardly cared if any zombies heard. Their attention did not matter as much to them as it would to this witch. "I was merely following my instincts to catch a tiny prey animal, something I can still keep up if you continue to vex me, witch."

"What are you doing all the way out here in Dymock anyway? Going for the cure?"

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin stayed rooted in his shadow pool, watching the fox spirit with cautious eyes. Now that they’d revealed their human forms, the need for such wariness had lessened, but Calvin wasn’t one to take chances. He lifted his arm, examining the bite marks. They’d take time to heal, especially considering how slim the odds were of finding the right potion ingredients to treat himself quicker.

When they laughed, he glanced back and forced a wide, uncertain smile. Should he laugh too? Maybe it was a game. Not that he cared much for zombies showing up if a group of 'em heard them, but even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. Calvin could slip into his shadows or shift back into his ermine form; either way, they wouldn’t touch him.

“Vex you?” he murmured, finally lifting from the shadow pool and stepping fully into the light. “That’s a strong, wily word for something you started, but what do you need to eat me for? I reckon you’re just bluffing for fun.”

He wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air, but all he caught was a lingering scent of decay. At their curious question, he shrugged. “Something like that. I mean, I’ve been doing just fine as an animal, y’know. But… I do miss being a man sometimes. You can really only do so much with a small mouth and no opposable thumb.”

[detectivejdarling]

Jo watched him for a moment longer, her expression flat and unimpressed. “Maybe that’s your cue to go back to where you came from,” she said. She wasn’t fully buying his little act. If all he wanted was to help her, he could’ve just done so like a normal person instead of delivering a speech first. But whatever. If he didn’t want anything, she wasn’t going to give him anything. Gift horse and all that.

She stepped aside so he could get to work, watching him with a bored expression that didn’t betray how badly she wanted a cigarette—though everything she’d done up to this point certainly had. It could’ve been convenient. He could’ve been convenient—one more way to take the edge off—but act or no act, soft wasn’t what she was looking for tonight. She’d done that before, taken home someone kind and genuine, with steady hands and a gentle heart. But she had wanted someone to hold her together then. Now she wanted someone to crack her open—and that clearly wasn’t him.

So when he held out the cigarette pack, she plucked it from his hand without fanfare and slipped it into her pocket. “I don’t care if they watch,” she said, holding his gaze to make a point, “as long as they don’t try to make small talk.”

Damsel in Distress. Her jaw ticked once, but she reined it in. Instead she gave him a thin, humorless smile and lifted the pack toward him in brief, wordless acknowledgment before turning away. She wasn't about to call him out on it, lest he ruin her night completely by apologizing and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her either.

She’d barely cleared three strides when a voice slurred off to her right.

“If he’s not interested, sweetheart, I sure am.”

Jo pivoted fully to face the man. Older, red-faced, heavyset, his beer sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She cut a quick sideways glance at the blonde—you did this—then fixed her eyes back on the stranger.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, tone flat, lips pressed into a thin line.

He pushed up from his chair and lurched closer, breath thick with alcohol. “Aw, come on now. Don't be so serious. I can help you loosen up.”

The second he was close enough, Jo reached out and nudged the bottom of his beer with two fingers, smooth and almost casual, prompting the whole thing to dump down his front in a foamy cascade. “Whoops,” she said, her face the picture of deadpan innocence. "My bad."

The man stared at his soaked shirt, then at her. His face went scarlet. “You did that on purpose, you little—”

He curled his fists, knuckles cracking. His weight shifted into the beginning of a swing, but Jo didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. She only lifted her chin a fraction, eyes steady on him as he drew his arm back with the heavy intention of someone too drunk to think twice.

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin bellied up to the bar again, ordering another sweet tea despite the bartender’s disgusted glare. He never understood why they looked at him like that whenever he went sober—which was always. The drink arrived nevertheless, and he reached into the bar caddy to pull out a little pink umbrella.

Just then, he caught sight of the Damsel being bothered by a grotesque, orcish man. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. By the look on her face, he could bet she was wishing it was him instead. But confidence was a fickle fiend, and just as he went to take a sip, he saw the man's hand cock back.

A flash of hot anger spiked through him. Calvin slammed his drink down, instantly alert. A shadow slithered along the floor, coiling around the man’s ankle and yanking him down face-first before he could strike. To anyone watching, it looked like a drunken stumble. The security team swooped in moments later, lifting the man by his arms and tossing him out.

Calvin snorted like a bull, chest still burning all the way up to his cheeks. He had no reason to feel this protective, yet no version of himself, dark and eccentric as it might be, would ever lay a hand on a woman that way, no matter the species.

His drink forgotten, he moved to Jo, slinging an arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward a corner, even if she struggled. His jaw was tight, but he forced a casual, flirty smile.

“You have no sense of self-preservation, do you? First smokin', now pickin' fights?” He gave her a wicked grin and tsked. “Unless, of course, this way your way to lure me back over so I could flirt with you. The cigarettes weren't enough?”

Reaching the corner, he let her go, but kept her backed into it with his own body shielding her from the curious crowd. He ignored any eyes at his back, and instead focused on the ones he could look into. Tilting his hat up to look down at her, he added, “All you had to do was come sit next to me at the bar, sly gal you.” He paused and then continued in a softer tone, "Are you okay?"

[daphne-blackwood]

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." She let out the breath she had been holding, shoulders releasing from the impossible stiff posture that she tried to maintain. At least she wouldn't be forced to partake in modules she'd trained with a hundred times before.

"I figured." She grinned. "It's Schubert's Serenade. I'm certain it sounds much better with more skilled fingers, but it's one of my favorite pieces. I would say I take requests but..." She flushed again, trying to make light of her little mistake.

She nodded. "Archivist. They keep me behind the scenes most of the time, but occasionally they let me see daylight." And give tours to the children, but the man before her probably was more interested in the variety of exhibits than simply wishing to stare at the dino bones all day. "Art is subjective. No one really is an art person when the pieces don't speak to them. What sort of things do you like? I'm sure there is something around her that will pique your interest."

[calvinfleischer]

“Oh?” Calvin said, sounding for all the world like he already knew the name of the piece despite knowing absolutely nothing about classical music beyond Beethoven. And even then, Beethoven to him meant the movies about the dog, not the composer. “Gotta say, though, I felt real serenaded by your clumsy fingers.”

He wandered up to the piano and pressed a few keys, producing the most atrocious melody imaginable before abruptly stopping. The memory of her brushing off the keys flickered back, and he offering her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t’ve done that. Now, if anyone gets in trouble, it’ll be me.”

When she explained her place in the operation, he nodded sagely. “Nothin’ wrong with being the shadow that keeps everything runnin'. Cogs are hidden behind the machine’s walls, but they’re the ones doing most of the work and gettin' hardly any credit. I mean—uh—not callin' you a cog, ma'am.”

He shrugged off his mistake and flashed her another bright, innocent smile. “Can’t tell you much about art myself. Picasso and the guy who cut his ear off...that’s about where my knowledge starts and ends. But I do like anything with a nature scene.”

[calvinfleischer]

A little late, but...

AMCA Calvin Aries Adaire

**Anon is ON! Any obvious bashing of characters will be made fun of publicly. You should know by now I don't care. ⋆⭒˚.⋆

[detectivejdarling]

Jo didn’t look at him. Not when he spoke, not when he leaned in too close, not even when the machine creaked under his weight. Her gaze stayed locked on the cigarette pack behind the glass as if sheer force of will alone might dislodge it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her attention, her jaw tightening incrementally with each word he spoke. She watched the pack wobble tauntingly as he slapped the top of the machine, but not enough for it to fall, and wondered if using him as a battering ram might be more effective.

He was far too close, but she refused to move. Backing down just wasn’t in her nature. Only when he finished talking did she finally turn her head toward him. It was only a brief glance, flat and unimpressed, her expression telling him she’d already had enough of whatever game he thought he was playing. He was—annoyingly—good-looking, the sort of face that would’ve made other people soften, but Jo only found it irritating. “You obviously don’t know me,” she said, voice low but steady, one brow ticking upwards. Then she hit the side of the machine, one sharp, frustrated strike with the heel of her palm. The pack shivered in place—and stayed put.

Jo sucked in her cheeks, then exhaled a thin, irritated breath as she finally twisted to face him fully. “Suppose you can get it out,” she said, lifting her chin at him, “what do you want for it?” Because people like him—men like him—always wanted something. With their charming smiles and their practiced words, ostensibly offering assistance purely out of the good of their hearts. Mikah, too, had seemed like a benevolent samaritan once upon a time. Granted, he had delivered. But he also hadn't stopped taking. Now this one. He was exactly the kind of mistake she’d make just to burn out everything twisting around inside her. To override the ache. To scorch the feeling of Victoria's touch clean off her skin. To prove herself she could. But she wasn't about to stumble blindly into another bargain, no matter how trivial it looked.

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin’s smile widened—sharp and weasel-like—as she smacked the machine again, her attempt to prove a point falling flat. The pack didn’t budge, and… well, maybe she would’ve had it that time if a sly, smoky tendril of shadow hadn’t pushed back against it. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Cat and mouse was always his favorite game. Or really, wildcat versus stoat.

He let out a long sigh, more teasing than exasperated. “Why’s it always gotta be quid pro quo with folks around here?” he drawled, shaking his head. “I’m from the South, darlin’. Sometimes people just do things for others without expectin’ something in return. You think I was angling for a drink and a chat?”

He tipped back his cattleman, eyes bright, then set to work. Leaning in close, nearly pressing his nose to the glass, he stretched his arms out to grip both sides of the machine and gave it a steady, confident shake. Inside, a shadow nudged the cigarette pack, and it dropped neatly into the slot. He reached in, fished it out, and offered the pack to Jo with a little flourish.

“Now you can smoke in peace without everybody watchin’ you. Though I gotta say, that might be hard for some folks.” His grin softened as he thumbed the brim of his hat, then turned back toward the bar. “’Til next time, Miss Damsel in Distress.”

[detectivejdarling]

for: open (@vievecorcitystarters)

location: strip club/bar

Jo slammed the heel of her hand against the old cigarette machine, the hollow clang echoing through the space loud enough to draw a few glances. “Motherfucker,” she muttered under her breath, jaw tight. The little red light blinked mockingly at her, money swallowed, and the pack she’d paid for caught behind the glass like it was dangling there just to spite her.

Another hit rattled the machine, this one with the side of her fist. Nothing. The itch at the back of her throat only sharpened, feeding the storm already churning in her chest. She swore again, a sharp crack in the haze of smoke and neon, then leaned in close as if glaring hard enough might dislodge the damn thing.

It didn’t.

Jo’s shoulders tensed, her fingers twitching at her sides as if deciding between tearing the machine apart and just walking away before she embarrassed herself any further.

[calvinfleischer]

Calvin only came to places like this to swipe some easy cash. Folks got so tangled in their own vices he barely needed a shadow or to shift to jip them. Just a quick sleight of hand, and he could buy the whole room a round with no expense to himself.

He was nursing his sweet tea (no alcohol included) at the bar when loud thuds drew every eye toward the cigarette machine. His gaze landed on the woman, and something bright flickered across his face—interest, mischief coating every feature. He slurped up the last sip and slid off his stool like he’d been summoned.

He came to stand beside her, crouching just enough to peer into the glass. The cigarette pack dangled stubbornly off the metal coil, stuck in the most frustratingly perfect way. “Well now,” he murmured, tongue clicking, “that is downright tragic. No one deserves luck like that.”

He rose, leaning against the machine with a lazy confidence, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed hers. He slapped his palm on top of the machine, just enough to make the pack wobble. He could free it in a heartbeat with his shadows without no one noticing them, even if they were watching closely. But watching her reaction was far more fun.

He tilted his head, eyes warm and blatantly admiring. “Let me help you out,” he said, tone dipping into something soft and teasing. “Unless you’d rather tell me to fuck off and shatter my fragile little heart.”

He smiled, slow and crooked. “But I’m hopin’ you’re kinder to me than that.”