Name's Clayton

Look, if you're trying to find me, chances are I'm either grading papers, or I'm out somewhere. Good luck. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

[ghostsandexams]

"I'm busy. What?"

Walking into the classroom, there are many things that catch your eye. For starters, all the lights are turned off, save for one on the teacher's desk. Illuminating him, and the many papers he still had to grade.

There are pictures and posters all over the walls. They all have a common theme attached to them: Ghosts. Demons. Supernatural. Mixed in with posters telling kids to read, and the proper way to write essays.

"Hmm?"

Well, it seems you've caught the teachers attention. He takes off his glasses, the start of a headache coming to him.

"I'm busy. What do you want?"

Hey hey! I'm Dex, as some of you already know. I'm the owner of @wilfywarfy This is my OC Clayton-Harvey Bennett, an English teacher and ghost hunter.

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Hobbies: Ghost hunting, reading, speaking to the dead, etc.

Height: 6'1

Age: 45 y/o

Face claim is Ryan Reynolds!

Basic rules: Don't be an ass.

NSFW WILL BE POSTED. IF YOURE UNDER 18, DNI, OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

[stageset]

RYAN REYNOLDS as BIG ADAM  The Adam Project | 2022 ( dir. Shawn Levy )

[ghostsandexams]

BOO

Clay be upon ye

[ghostsandexams]

Clay muse has taken over me like a possession

I've never talked about him here, but Clay has 1 person that's the closest he can get to a living, breathing companion (though he'd never say that ever)

Meet Kenneth 'Kenny' Reid. He teaches history at the same school Clay does. He's a thorn in Clay's side from how friendly he is.

His face claim is Luke Wilson

I've genuinely had this man for like... Months. I just never posted about him 😭

[ghostsandexams]

First post in a while

And it just so happens to be an art post 😊

I commissioned my friend for this :3

(They deadass don't have any socials so I can't tag them on anything 😭) BUT LOOOOOOOOK

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Clay wasn't really a 'go out' type of person nowadays. These times, he usually like to stay in and read a book and hopefully fall asleep. Though lately, Olivia has been pushing him to do more... What was it? Right, social interaction. Speak to people and see the world.

He could only deal with so much pestering before he caved in, going out to a local bar. It's your average drinking spot, with a stocked bar, some pool tables in the back, a few arcade machines, and tacky lights and signs hanging all over.

He's sort of tucked himself away in the corner of the place, the light above him casting a warm glow. He nursed a gin and tonic, observing the patrons. What, like he was gonna actually talk to someone? Give him a break.

-@ghostsandexams

Hannah usually enjoys wandering into places like King Cole Bar after a kill, but since her latest victim of the night decided to go out fighting with their claws and teeth bared, her body is forcing her to trudge to the nearest source of alcohol instead if she still wanted to indulge herself.

The ache of where that bastard had fucking kicked her across her back has mostly settled when she steps inside, gloved hands slipping off her coat with a sigh and remaining in her dress. Finally. Hannah doesn't bat an eye at her surroundings or appreciate the decor; she can do that once she's had her fill of liquor in her system.

She takes her seat at the bar and flashes a care-free smile to the bartender, telling him to surprise her with any top shelf drink of his choosing. It didn't matter what it was, they all had the same effect. Leaning back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, she goes over the events of today in her mind as she waits.

Hannah can only hope what's-his-name is rotting in a special place in Hell right now. That would make her heart sing.

[ghostsandexams]

He doesn't really pay attention when Hannah walks in. He just assumes it's another random patron coming in for a drink. And in a sense, he's not wrong.

What does make him look up though is when a few of the ghostly inhabitants wolf whistled. (Oh yeah, there were ghosts in this bar. There's ghosts in every bar. Most of them fit the same mold: Drunk old men in tattered leather jackets that were still drinking away in the afterlife.) That gets his attention. Mostly because of how fucking gross it is.

He catches sight of the newest patron in the bar. She... Damnit, she did look pretty. Or at least her hair did. He couldn't really see her face from where he was at, but whatever. Wasn't like it mattered.

He takes another sip of his drink, still looking at her.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Hannah's grown to sense when she's being stared at. She scans the people ahead of her, which are few and none glancing in her direction, instead focused on their phone or drinks. When her own arrives and is placed in front of her by the sheepish bartender, a neat whiskey, Hannah casually lifts the glass as if about to take a sip from it. Instead, she peeks at the reflections of those behind her.

Well… she could indulge herself a little, couldn’t she?

Taking a sip from her whiskey like it's water, she sets it down on the counter and traces her finger along the edges of the glass, her nail lightly tapping against it. "...Y'know, there's a certain amount of staring you can do before you start entering 'creeper' territory." Hannah lightheartedly speaks as she turns just enough in her seat to face the figure tucked away like a dramatic detective scoping the room.

Even with what she's said, she's not actually freaked out by him. He's a chihuahua compared to the wolves she has to deal with in her every day life. Besides, she would've killed him by now if he was pissing her off.

[ghostsandexams]

Okay, maybe he stares a bit more than he originally intended to. But again, it wasn't like it really mattered. Not like she could sense him staring. A lot of people claimed to have that 6th sense of being able to feel someone looking at them, but few actually have it.

He's proven wrong a few seconds later when she calls him out. A few nosey people (and a few nosey spirits on top of that) turn to look at him, right before going back to their drinks. And he immediately wants to curl up into a ball, shrivel up, and vanish.

"My fault. You're right." He says, raising a hand in apology. Though before he looks away from her, he takes in her face. And wow... Okay, she's pretty. He could admit that. Nothing wrong with admiring someone, right?

[perfectly-intoxicated]

"I never said you'd gotten there yet." Hannah interjects, turning in her seat to fully face him and reaching for her drink, holding it in one hand while an amused smile crosses over her face. “Cut yourself some slack.”

Looking over the stranger with vague curiosity, she can’t help but find it slightly comical, the way he gives off such a withdrawn energy with the way he’s tucked himself away to the best of his ability and looks like he doesn’t even want to be there in the first place. She almost felt bad for the guy, but it would take more than that to pull sympathy out of her.

Hannah brings the cup to her lips, taking another easy sip. “No offense, but you’re sticking out like a sore thumb in here.” Plus he looks a bit miserable, like the expression on his face is set in stone.

[ghostsandexams]

Now that she's looking back at him, he doesn't really know what to do. He's been told before that he has a staring problem. Though no one ever really looked back until now.

"Don't see how I stick out when I'm not even doing anything, but okay." He has 2 options here. He can either continue having this conversation over everything in the bar, allowing everyone to hear what they were talking about. Or, he could get off of his ass and go talk to her like a normal person.

'Go, Clay. Talk to people. Meet someone. Just stop being all holed up in here.'

He gets up and walks over to Hannah, stepping into the light. At least now he can say he did what Olivia wanted. She had no reason to be mad at him now.

"Is this better?" He asks.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Clay wasn't really a 'go out' type of person nowadays. These times, he usually like to stay in and read a book and hopefully fall asleep. Though lately, Olivia has been pushing him to do more... What was it? Right, social interaction. Speak to people and see the world.

He could only deal with so much pestering before he caved in, going out to a local bar. It's your average drinking spot, with a stocked bar, some pool tables in the back, a few arcade machines, and tacky lights and signs hanging all over.

He's sort of tucked himself away in the corner of the place, the light above him casting a warm glow. He nursed a gin and tonic, observing the patrons. What, like he was gonna actually talk to someone? Give him a break.

-@ghostsandexams

Hannah usually enjoys wandering into places like King Cole Bar after a kill, but since her latest victim of the night decided to go out fighting with their claws and teeth bared, her body is forcing her to trudge to the nearest source of alcohol instead if she still wanted to indulge herself.

The ache of where that bastard had fucking kicked her across her back has mostly settled when she steps inside, gloved hands slipping off her coat with a sigh and remaining in her dress. Finally. Hannah doesn't bat an eye at her surroundings or appreciate the decor; she can do that once she's had her fill of liquor in her system.

She takes her seat at the bar and flashes a care-free smile to the bartender, telling him to surprise her with any top shelf drink of his choosing. It didn't matter what it was, they all had the same effect. Leaning back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, she goes over the events of today in her mind as she waits.

Hannah can only hope what's-his-name is rotting in a special place in Hell right now. That would make her heart sing.

[ghostsandexams]

He doesn't really pay attention when Hannah walks in. He just assumes it's another random patron coming in for a drink. And in a sense, he's not wrong.

What does make him look up though is when a few of the ghostly inhabitants wolf whistled. (Oh yeah, there were ghosts in this bar. There's ghosts in every bar. Most of them fit the same mold: Drunk old men in tattered leather jackets that were still drinking away in the afterlife.) That gets his attention. Mostly because of how fucking gross it is.

He catches sight of the newest patron in the bar. She... Damnit, she did look pretty. Or at least her hair did. He couldn't really see her face from where he was at, but whatever. Wasn't like it mattered.

He takes another sip of his drink, still looking at her.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Hannah's grown to sense when she's being stared at. She scans the people ahead of her, which are few and none glancing in her direction, instead focused on their phone or drinks. When her own arrives and is placed in front of her by the sheepish bartender, a neat whiskey, Hannah casually lifts the glass as if about to take a sip from it. Instead, she peeks at the reflections of those behind her.

Well… she could indulge herself a little, couldn’t she?

Taking a sip from her whiskey like it's water, she sets it down on the counter and traces her finger along the edges of the glass, her nail lightly tapping against it. "...Y'know, there's a certain amount of staring you can do before you start entering 'creeper' territory." Hannah lightheartedly speaks as she turns just enough in her seat to face the figure tucked away like a dramatic detective scoping the room.

Even with what she's said, she's not actually freaked out by him. He's a chihuahua compared to the wolves she has to deal with in her every day life. Besides, she would've killed him by now if he was pissing her off.

[ghostsandexams]

Okay, maybe he stares a bit more than he originally intended to. But again, it wasn't like it really mattered. Not like she could sense him staring. A lot of people claimed to have that 6th sense of being able to feel someone looking at them, but few actually have it.

He's proven wrong a few seconds later when she calls him out. A few nosey people (and a few nosey spirits on top of that) turn to look at him, right before going back to their drinks. And he immediately wants to curl up into a ball, shrivel up, and vanish.

"My fault. You're right." He says, raising a hand in apology. Though before he looks away from her, he takes in her face. And wow... Okay, she's pretty. He could admit that. Nothing wrong with admiring someone, right?

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Clay wasn't really a 'go out' type of person nowadays. These times, he usually like to stay in and read a book and hopefully fall asleep. Though lately, Olivia has been pushing him to do more... What was it? Right, social interaction. Speak to people and see the world.

He could only deal with so much pestering before he caved in, going out to a local bar. It's your average drinking spot, with a stocked bar, some pool tables in the back, a few arcade machines, and tacky lights and signs hanging all over.

He's sort of tucked himself away in the corner of the place, the light above him casting a warm glow. He nursed a gin and tonic, observing the patrons. What, like he was gonna actually talk to someone? Give him a break.

-@ghostsandexams

Hannah usually enjoys wandering into places like King Cole Bar after a kill, but since her latest victim of the night decided to go out fighting with their claws and teeth bared, her body is forcing her to trudge to the nearest source of alcohol instead if she still wanted to indulge herself.

The ache of where that bastard had fucking kicked her across her back has mostly settled when she steps inside, gloved hands slipping off her coat with a sigh and remaining in her dress. Finally. Hannah doesn't bat an eye at her surroundings or appreciate the decor; she can do that once she's had her fill of liquor in her system.

She takes her seat at the bar and flashes a care-free smile to the bartender, telling him to surprise her with any top shelf drink of his choosing. It didn't matter what it was, they all had the same effect. Leaning back in her seat and crossing one leg over the other, she goes over the events of today in her mind as she waits.

Hannah can only hope what's-his-name is rotting in a special place in Hell right now. That would make her heart sing.

[ghostsandexams]

He doesn't really pay attention when Hannah walks in. He just assumes it's another random patron coming in for a drink. And in a sense, he's not wrong.

What does make him look up though is when a few of the ghostly inhabitants wolf whistled. (Oh yeah, there were ghosts in this bar. There's ghosts in every bar. Most of them fit the same mold: Drunk old men in tattered leather jackets that were still drinking away in the afterlife.) That gets his attention. Mostly because of how fucking gross it is.

He catches sight of the newest patron in the bar. She... Damnit, she did look pretty. Or at least her hair did. He couldn't really see her face from where he was at, but whatever. Wasn't like it mattered.

He takes another sip of his drink, still looking at her.

[hankoverton]

"Need to sit for a spell? What's on your mind?"

Name: Henry "Hank" Overton

Age: 45 (young au - 25)

Height: 6'1"

Nationality/POB: American/Austin, Texas

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: bisexual

Face Claim: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Rules and guidelines under the cut

[ghostsandexams]

As he puts the last number into his phone, it's like a wave of soberness hits him.

Clay sits up from the sofa of his dorm, empty beer cans hitting the hardwood floor as he does. Almost immediately, his stomach gurgles. He can't remember the last time he hadn't eaten something that wasn't leftover pizza, or 3 day old chips. His body wasn't happy with him, but hey, this was the life, right? This was paradise in a room.

Though lately, something's been eating at him. A feeling that was getting too hard to ignore. When he'd left for school, he never really gave his parents a goodbye. Actually, they didn't even really acknowledge that he was leaving. They kind of just… sent him on his way. Out into the world, no guidance.

And now that he was officially a year away from getting his doctorate, that feeling grew stronger and stronger. An urge to get what he wanted to say all these years off his chest. And for his parents to hear it, and know what they did.

He may have gone a bit too hard on the liquid courage, but he needed it. He would've chickened out otherwise. He couldn't be sober for this.

That little hit of clarity isn't enough to stop him though. He had to do this. For his own sake.

He presses the call button.

The phone rings. And rings. And rings. For an uncomfortable amount of time. They weren't out, were they? Hell, he knew he'd be out partying if it wasn't for his headache. And they were grown, they could do whatever they wanted. But… it was still late, wasn't it? Surely they'd be-

“Hello?”

That voice. It's like the few memories he has come flooding back.

“Hey, d-dad.”

“Clay?”

“Yeah, its, uh, it's- ‘s me.” he hiccups in the middle of the sentence.

“What are you calling for?”

“Wha? Can’ even pretend like y’ happy t’ hear me?”

“...Clay, are you drunk right now?”

“...maybe.”

“Ugh. Gross. I'm hanging u-”

“Wait, wait, wait, no! Don't! Please!” he begs into the phone, holding onto it as if it was his father's arm.

“I… I want to tell you something. Nonono... I, uh... gotta get something off my chest.”

“At 11 at night?”

“Yes… I have to.”

It's quiet for a second. “Well then... Get it out I guess.”

Now that the spotlights were on him… he didn't know what to do. He'd wanted this for years. To have his parents, or in this case, his father, at his mercy. And it was now that he knew just how poorly he prepared for this moment.

But alas, it was now or never.

“...I, uh… why do you hate me?”

“What?”

“Don' pretend with me. I know you guys never liked me. You, you… you both hated me. I didn't even do anything t’ you, and you guys just fuckin’ hated me. Ignored me. And that sucked! I, I… I don't know if I did something t’ hurt you or whatever, but c’mon! 18 years, dad! 18 whole years, and I barely got anything! You and Mom fuckin’ ignored me for most of my life! Locked me in closets! Left me for days! I have blank spots because I'm pretty sure you guys messed me up so bad! And ion think you even care! You never did! You… you're a shitty dad! Huh, know that? You're a shitty dad! Boom! Done!” he cringes after the fact. He really just said boom, done.

The line is quiet for a few moments. Clay starts to think he hung up at some point in his rant, and is about to put the phone down. But before he can, he hears that damn voice again.

“I'm a shitty dad, Clay? I'm the shitty one here? At least I'm not drunk calling you at 11 o'clock at night. At least I have your mother, Clay. I have a house, Clay. I have a job, Clay. What do you have?”

Quiet. He can't answer. Half because he's in shock, the other because his brain can barely make out some of the words.

“You know what, you're a fucking joke, Clay. You call me a shitty dad, well guess what, you're a shitty son. Got that? You know what you did? You came out, and decided to go on and on about ghosts and spirits and all that bullshit. And then after that, you expected us to feed into your delusional behavior. And got pissy at us when we didn't. You wonder why we don't like you? Because you make us look stupid. You make us look like morons. You make us look crazy. You made us regret even thinking about having kids. You're the reason you don't have any brothers or sisters to go to. Because we didn't want them ending up like you. Then again, if they were normal like us, they'd probably hate you too. You wonder why we don't like you, Clay? Because you are single handedly the worst thing that could've ever possibly happened to us.”

Those last words hit him like a bullet in the chest.

“And while we're at it, you're not welcome back here. Ever. Because the last thing me and your mother want to see is a lonely, high, drunk, jobless bum rotting on our couch for months on end. Got it?”

“I-”

“Keep on doing what you're doing, Clay. And before you know it, you're gonna die, drunk and alone. Just like we fuckin’ knew you would.”

Clay couldn't breathe… what was going on.

“Don't you ever fucking call this number again, asshole.”

The last thing he hears is the phone hitting the receiver before the dial tone plays.

Clay sits for a moment. He sets the phone down next to him and sits there in the dark. For how long, he didn't know.

The first thought that comes into his head?

“... it's Clayton now.”

[ghostsandexams]

Clay hated poltergeists.

Spirits that could interact with things... Or worse, make things appear.

Poltergeists did nothing but make his life a living hell.

And this last one was no different.

He was currently covered head to toe in what he was hoping was red ectoplasm. It was a stupid wish, of course. Ectoplasm was never red. And it wasn't as pungent as this was.

He wipes his eyes before taking a deep breath.

Blood.

He was covered head to toe in blood.

He hated poltergeists.

He hears a deep, malevolent laugh from upstairs. And he can't wait to leave this stupid house.

[freebirdyance]

This bar is a little nicer than he's used to, but Hank isn't complaining. They have alcohol and the possibility of a potential hookup... oh, and pool tables. Nice. Yeah, this would do nicely. However, he also notices a karaoke setup toward the back and wrinkles his nose.

It's fine. He can be good at blocking shit out.

Striding up to the bar, he sits on a stool and lifts his chin to signal the bartender. "Whiskey Sour," he orders just loud enough to be heard over whoever is absolutely butchering a Queen song.

@ghostsandexams

[ghostsandexams]

"I've got to break free... I want to break freeee!" Clay sings, the notes he's trying to reach being way out of his range. He would normally say no to doing any sort of singing, but after a good 4 drinks, his confidence had shot through the roof.

The equally drunken patrons give him applause, as well as a few forever-drunken spirits. It's enough for him as he stumbles off the stage for the next person to go.

Making his way to the bar, he sits in the spot next to Hank, seemingly unaware of the man.

[freebirdyance]

Hank almost claps, but it would be from relief that the song is over. Even if it did take some guts and too much alcohol to attempt Freddie's vocals in a karaoke setting. Instead, he continues nursing his drink, sparing the slightest glance to the man as he sits down next to him.

Hm. He's actually pretty cute, though. Their eyes meet briefly, and he nods in casual greeting.

A couple of spirits in particular seem to be hanging around him. A man around the same age, and one who is older and looks like they could be related.

[ghostsandexams]

Clay doesn't mind the spirits. There are lots of people here with dead people around them. From what he's learned, they're most likely dead folks that hate the fact that their descendants are out drinking and doing drugs. Whatever.

He signals the bartender for a drink, before looking over at Hank. A dreamy look on his face. It could just be the alcohol... but wow, is he cute.

"Heeeey." He says, a shaky smile on his face.

[freebirdyance]

At the greeting, Hank turns to look at him once more, showing a confident smile. He didn't need the booze for that, just... a list of other things.

"Hey," he says with a nod toward the stage. "You killed it up there. Queen's a bold choice, killer band." He thanks the bartender before sipping his drink, feeling that sense of ease wash over him. "I'm Hank."

[ghostsandexams]

"Thanks. They're one of my favorites." Clay is handed his next drink before he can even finish his sentence. A pink cocktail that's most likely more sugar than booze, but it's enough to get the juices flowing.

"I'm Clay." He says, sipping on the concoction. Oh yeah, that'll send someone to the hospital. "I like your name... Suits you."

[freebirdyance]

"Real nice to meet you, Clay," Hank says, raising his drink in his direction. It was easy to turn on the southern charm when he wanted to, slipping into a mask he knew well. Taking one more sip, he turns in his seat to face Clay fully, leaning his arm on the edge of the bar.

"You think so? No one's ever really told me that before... but I gotta say, so does yours." He chuckles as he gives Clay a once over... yeah, he's cute, alright. Finally, his gaze lands on the other man's drink. "So what's your poison? It looks... colorful."

[ghostsandexams]

Clay gets a cheesy smile on his face. One that he wouldn't give to... really, anyone in here if he was sober. But Hank is just so charming and he liked his name. And was that an accent? Oh, he was real intrigued now.

"This? It's a... uh..." Clay has to squint at the board in order to read it. Despite his major requiring god knows how much reading, he was still 4 drinks in. "Straw... Strawberry mojito. Yeah, yeah. That's it. And you?"

[freebirdyance]

Strawberry mojito. Just hearing the name gave Hank a toothache, but to each their own. He was never one to indulge in sweets very often, anyway. He raises his own glass. "Whiskey Sour," he answers, or at least it was before he downs the rest of it.

He lets out a pleased rumble before ordering another one without taking his eyes off of Clay. "Not as sour as it sounds, though. There's a good balance of sweet, too... maybe like us." He can't keep a straight face for long before he's turning his head and exhaling into the back of his hand. "Sorry, that was awful."

[ghostsandexams]

Even with the buzz he has, that line makes one of his brows raise. He can't help but laugh at the awful attempt at... Flirting? Is that the right word? He wasn't sure. All he's really sure of is that his smile... Wow.

"You're forgiven." Clay says. He gets a little bit closer to him. Whether it was on purpose or not, who knows? "So... If I'm guessing right, you think you're the sour one, hm?"

[freebirdyance]

"Much too kind, darlin'," Hank replies, dark hazel eyes moving over the other man's face as he gets closer. Otherwise, he doesn't move, just shows a lazy smirk that accentuates one of his dimples.

"You're guessin' correctly." One hand stays loosely wrapped around his glass, the pad of his middle finger idly moving around the rim. This guy is quite the lush, but Hank wasn't complaining. He's definitely picking up the vibes that Clay 'swings' his way. "'Spose I can be sweet when I wanna be, though."

[ghostsandexams]

"Darling already? I'm flattered, but at least tell me about yourself first." Was that... A dimple on this handsome mans cheek? Glorious. Absolutely magnificent.

Alright, Clayton... This guy seems to be fine with whatever you've got going here. Don't mess it up. Especially since he's hot.

"Yeah, a total sweetheart you look like." He says, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I think I'm the opposite. Some people think I'm too nice. But... You're still here. So I think that's a good thing."

[freebirdyance]

The smirk only gets bigger as Hank shrugs a shoulder. "Sorry... I'm from Texas. Everyone is darlin' or honey, or sweetheart. Old habits die hard. I'll still tell you whatever you wanna know, though." Most of it would even be the truth, probably. As long as it wasn't anything too personal. There's a list of convenient lies and half truths stashed in his brain, ready to be used.

"I think so, too." This time, Hank is leaning in a bit more. "Well, you know what they say about opposites," he says lowly, giving Clay a wink.

[ghostsandexams]

Texas? What was a Texas guy doing all the way out here? That would be one of the questions he'd ask. But it's so hard to get his questions in order when Hank leans in just that little bit closer. And fuck he's winking at him now. He was done for.

"I do know what they say... Looking real accurate right about now." Clay gives him another big smile before downing the rest of his drink. Sighing before signaling for another. "So, I know your name, where you're from... What're you doing here tonight?"

[freebirdyance]

Hank watches Clay down the drink and ask for another, raising a curious eyebrow. He wonders how many he's had already because if the night were to progress in a certain direction, he wouldn't want Clay to be too drunk.

He isn't a good man, but he still has some morals.

"Just lookin' to relax after a rough week. Maybe find someone to relax with. What about you?"

[ghostsandexams]

"Eh, couple of buddies dragged me out. I said no the last time, so I kinda owed them one." He didn't know where those friends were right now. Probably still in their booth, giggling at his performance.

"But I think I'm the same as you... just wanna relax." Relaxing didn't normally involve karaoke, but what's done is done. "We aren't so different after all." Clay smiles again.

[freebirdyance]

This bar is a little nicer than he's used to, but Hank isn't complaining. They have alcohol and the possibility of a potential hookup... oh, and pool tables. Nice. Yeah, this would do nicely. However, he also notices a karaoke setup toward the back and wrinkles his nose.

It's fine. He can be good at blocking shit out.

Striding up to the bar, he sits on a stool and lifts his chin to signal the bartender. "Whiskey Sour," he orders just loud enough to be heard over whoever is absolutely butchering a Queen song.

@ghostsandexams

[ghostsandexams]

"I've got to break free... I want to break freeee!" Clay sings, the notes he's trying to reach being way out of his range. He would normally say no to doing any sort of singing, but after a good 4 drinks, his confidence had shot through the roof.

The equally drunken patrons give him applause, as well as a few forever-drunken spirits. It's enough for him as he stumbles off the stage for the next person to go.

Making his way to the bar, he sits in the spot next to Hank, seemingly unaware of the man.

[freebirdyance]

Hank almost claps, but it would be from relief that the song is over. Even if it did take some guts and too much alcohol to attempt Freddie's vocals in a karaoke setting. Instead, he continues nursing his drink, sparing the slightest glance to the man as he sits down next to him.

Hm. He's actually pretty cute, though. Their eyes meet briefly, and he nods in casual greeting.

A couple of spirits in particular seem to be hanging around him. A man around the same age, and one who is older and looks like they could be related.

[ghostsandexams]

Clay doesn't mind the spirits. There are lots of people here with dead people around them. From what he's learned, they're most likely dead folks that hate the fact that their descendants are out drinking and doing drugs. Whatever.

He signals the bartender for a drink, before looking over at Hank. A dreamy look on his face. It could just be the alcohol... but wow, is he cute.

"Heeeey." He says, a shaky smile on his face.

[freebirdyance]

At the greeting, Hank turns to look at him once more, showing a confident smile. He didn't need the booze for that, just... a list of other things.

"Hey," he says with a nod toward the stage. "You killed it up there. Queen's a bold choice, killer band." He thanks the bartender before sipping his drink, feeling that sense of ease wash over him. "I'm Hank."

[ghostsandexams]

"Thanks. They're one of my favorites." Clay is handed his next drink before he can even finish his sentence. A pink cocktail that's most likely more sugar than booze, but it's enough to get the juices flowing.

"I'm Clay." He says, sipping on the concoction. Oh yeah, that'll send someone to the hospital. "I like your name... Suits you."

[freebirdyance]

"Real nice to meet you, Clay," Hank says, raising his drink in his direction. It was easy to turn on the southern charm when he wanted to, slipping into a mask he knew well. Taking one more sip, he turns in his seat to face Clay fully, leaning his arm on the edge of the bar.

"You think so? No one's ever really told me that before... but I gotta say, so does yours." He chuckles as he gives Clay a once over... yeah, he's cute, alright. Finally, his gaze lands on the other man's drink. "So what's your poison? It looks... colorful."

[ghostsandexams]

Clay gets a cheesy smile on his face. One that he wouldn't give to... really, anyone in here if he was sober. But Hank is just so charming and he liked his name. And was that an accent? Oh, he was real intrigued now.

"This? It's a... uh..." Clay has to squint at the board in order to read it. Despite his major requiring god knows how much reading, he was still 4 drinks in. "Straw... Strawberry mojito. Yeah, yeah. That's it. And you?"

[freebirdyance]

Strawberry mojito. Just hearing the name gave Hank a toothache, but to each their own. He was never one to indulge in sweets very often, anyway. He raises his own glass. "Whiskey Sour," he answers, or at least it was before he downs the rest of it.

He lets out a pleased rumble before ordering another one without taking his eyes off of Clay. "Not as sour as it sounds, though. There's a good balance of sweet, too... maybe like us." He can't keep a straight face for long before he's turning his head and exhaling into the back of his hand. "Sorry, that was awful."

[ghostsandexams]

Even with the buzz he has, that line makes one of his brows raise. He can't help but laugh at the awful attempt at... Flirting? Is that the right word? He wasn't sure. All he's really sure of is that his smile... Wow.

"You're forgiven." Clay says. He gets a little bit closer to him. Whether it was on purpose or not, who knows? "So... If I'm guessing right, you think you're the sour one, hm?"

[freebirdyance]

"Much too kind, darlin'," Hank replies, dark hazel eyes moving over the other man's face as he gets closer. Otherwise, he doesn't move, just shows a lazy smirk that accentuates one of his dimples.

"You're guessin' correctly." One hand stays loosely wrapped around his glass, the pad of his middle finger idly moving around the rim. This guy is quite the lush, but Hank wasn't complaining. He's definitely picking up the vibes that Clay 'swings' his way. "'Spose I can be sweet when I wanna be, though."

[ghostsandexams]

"Darling already? I'm flattered, but at least tell me about yourself first." Was that... A dimple on this handsome mans cheek? Glorious. Absolutely magnificent.

Alright, Clayton... This guy seems to be fine with whatever you've got going here. Don't mess it up. Especially since he's hot.

"Yeah, a total sweetheart you look like." He says, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I think I'm the opposite. Some people think I'm too nice. But... You're still here. So I think that's a good thing."

[freebirdyance]

The smirk only gets bigger as Hank shrugs a shoulder. "Sorry... I'm from Texas. Everyone is darlin' or honey, or sweetheart. Old habits die hard. I'll still tell you whatever you wanna know, though." Most of it would even be the truth, probably. As long as it wasn't anything too personal. There's a list of convenient lies and half truths stashed in his brain, ready to be used.

"I think so, too." This time, Hank is leaning in a bit more. "Well, you know what they say about opposites," he says lowly, giving Clay a wink.

[ghostsandexams]

Texas? What was a Texas guy doing all the way out here? That would be one of the questions he'd ask. But it's so hard to get his questions in order when Hank leans in just that little bit closer. And fuck he's winking at him now. He was done for.

"I do know what they say... Looking real accurate right about now." Clay gives him another big smile before downing the rest of his drink. Sighing before signaling for another. "So, I know your name, where you're from... What're you doing here tonight?"

[freebirdyance]

This bar is a little nicer than he's used to, but Hank isn't complaining. They have alcohol and the possibility of a potential hookup... oh, and pool tables. Nice. Yeah, this would do nicely. However, he also notices a karaoke setup toward the back and wrinkles his nose.

It's fine. He can be good at blocking shit out.

Striding up to the bar, he sits on a stool and lifts his chin to signal the bartender. "Whiskey Sour," he orders just loud enough to be heard over whoever is absolutely butchering a Queen song.

@ghostsandexams

[ghostsandexams]

"I've got to break free... I want to break freeee!" Clay sings, the notes he's trying to reach being way out of his range. He would normally say no to doing any sort of singing, but after a good 4 drinks, his confidence had shot through the roof.

The equally drunken patrons give him applause, as well as a few forever-drunken spirits. It's enough for him as he stumbles off the stage for the next person to go.

Making his way to the bar, he sits in the spot next to Hank, seemingly unaware of the man.

[freebirdyance]

Hank almost claps, but it would be from relief that the song is over. Even if it did take some guts and too much alcohol to attempt Freddie's vocals in a karaoke setting. Instead, he continues nursing his drink, sparing the slightest glance to the man as he sits down next to him.

Hm. He's actually pretty cute, though. Their eyes meet briefly, and he nods in casual greeting.

A couple of spirits in particular seem to be hanging around him. A man around the same age, and one who is older and looks like they could be related.

[ghostsandexams]

Clay doesn't mind the spirits. There are lots of people here with dead people around them. From what he's learned, they're most likely dead folks that hate the fact that their descendants are out drinking and doing drugs. Whatever.

He signals the bartender for a drink, before looking over at Hank. A dreamy look on his face. It could just be the alcohol... but wow, is he cute.

"Heeeey." He says, a shaky smile on his face.

[freebirdyance]

At the greeting, Hank turns to look at him once more, showing a confident smile. He didn't need the booze for that, just... a list of other things.

"Hey," he says with a nod toward the stage. "You killed it up there. Queen's a bold choice, killer band." He thanks the bartender before sipping his drink, feeling that sense of ease wash over him. "I'm Hank."

[ghostsandexams]

"Thanks. They're one of my favorites." Clay is handed his next drink before he can even finish his sentence. A pink cocktail that's most likely more sugar than booze, but it's enough to get the juices flowing.

"I'm Clay." He says, sipping on the concoction. Oh yeah, that'll send someone to the hospital. "I like your name... Suits you."

[freebirdyance]

"Real nice to meet you, Clay," Hank says, raising his drink in his direction. It was easy to turn on the southern charm when he wanted to, slipping into a mask he knew well. Taking one more sip, he turns in his seat to face Clay fully, leaning his arm on the edge of the bar.

"You think so? No one's ever really told me that before... but I gotta say, so does yours." He chuckles as he gives Clay a once over... yeah, he's cute, alright. Finally, his gaze lands on the other man's drink. "So what's your poison? It looks... colorful."

[ghostsandexams]

Clay gets a cheesy smile on his face. One that he wouldn't give to... really, anyone in here if he was sober. But Hank is just so charming and he liked his name. And was that an accent? Oh, he was real intrigued now.

"This? It's a... uh..." Clay has to squint at the board in order to read it. Despite his major requiring god knows how much reading, he was still 4 drinks in. "Straw... Strawberry mojito. Yeah, yeah. That's it. And you?"

[freebirdyance]

Strawberry mojito. Just hearing the name gave Hank a toothache, but to each their own. He was never one to indulge in sweets very often, anyway. He raises his own glass. "Whiskey Sour," he answers, or at least it was before he downs the rest of it.

He lets out a pleased rumble before ordering another one without taking his eyes off of Clay. "Not as sour as it sounds, though. There's a good balance of sweet, too... maybe like us." He can't keep a straight face for long before he's turning his head and exhaling into the back of his hand. "Sorry, that was awful."

[ghostsandexams]

Even with the buzz he has, that line makes one of his brows raise. He can't help but laugh at the awful attempt at... Flirting? Is that the right word? He wasn't sure. All he's really sure of is that his smile... Wow.

"You're forgiven." Clay says. He gets a little bit closer to him. Whether it was on purpose or not, who knows? "So... If I'm guessing right, you think you're the sour one, hm?"

[freebirdyance]

"Much too kind, darlin'," Hank replies, dark hazel eyes moving over the other man's face as he gets closer. Otherwise, he doesn't move, just shows a lazy smirk that accentuates one of his dimples.

"You're guessin' correctly." One hand stays loosely wrapped around his glass, the pad of his middle finger idly moving around the rim. This guy is quite the lush, but Hank wasn't complaining. He's definitely picking up the vibes that Clay 'swings' his way. "'Spose I can be sweet when I wanna be, though."

[ghostsandexams]

"Darling already? I'm flattered, but at least tell me about yourself first." Was that... A dimple on this handsome mans cheek? Glorious. Absolutely magnificent.

Alright, Clayton... This guy seems to be fine with whatever you've got going here. Don't mess it up. Especially since he's hot.

"Yeah, a total sweetheart you look like." He says, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I think I'm the opposite. Some people think I'm too nice. But... You're still here. So I think that's a good thing."

[freebirdyance]

This bar is a little nicer than he's used to, but Hank isn't complaining. They have alcohol and the possibility of a potential hookup... oh, and pool tables. Nice. Yeah, this would do nicely. However, he also notices a karaoke setup toward the back and wrinkles his nose.

It's fine. He can be good at blocking shit out.

Striding up to the bar, he sits on a stool and lifts his chin to signal the bartender. "Whiskey Sour," he orders just loud enough to be heard over whoever is absolutely butchering a Queen song.

@ghostsandexams

[ghostsandexams]

"I've got to break free... I want to break freeee!" Clay sings, the notes he's trying to reach being way out of his range. He would normally say no to doing any sort of singing, but after a good 4 drinks, his confidence had shot through the roof.

The equally drunken patrons give him applause, as well as a few forever-drunken spirits. It's enough for him as he stumbles off the stage for the next person to go.

Making his way to the bar, he sits in the spot next to Hank, seemingly unaware of the man.

[freebirdyance]

Hank almost claps, but it would be from relief that the song is over. Even if it did take some guts and too much alcohol to attempt Freddie's vocals in a karaoke setting. Instead, he continues nursing his drink, sparing the slightest glance to the man as he sits down next to him.

Hm. He's actually pretty cute, though. Their eyes meet briefly, and he nods in casual greeting.

A couple of spirits in particular seem to be hanging around him. A man around the same age, and one who is older and looks like they could be related.

[ghostsandexams]

Clay doesn't mind the spirits. There are lots of people here with dead people around them. From what he's learned, they're most likely dead folks that hate the fact that their descendants are out drinking and doing drugs. Whatever.

He signals the bartender for a drink, before looking over at Hank. A dreamy look on his face. It could just be the alcohol... but wow, is he cute.

"Heeeey." He says, a shaky smile on his face.

[freebirdyance]

At the greeting, Hank turns to look at him once more, showing a confident smile. He didn't need the booze for that, just... a list of other things.

"Hey," he says with a nod toward the stage. "You killed it up there. Queen's a bold choice, killer band." He thanks the bartender before sipping his drink, feeling that sense of ease wash over him. "I'm Hank."

[ghostsandexams]

"Thanks. They're one of my favorites." Clay is handed his next drink before he can even finish his sentence. A pink cocktail that's most likely more sugar than booze, but it's enough to get the juices flowing.

"I'm Clay." He says, sipping on the concoction. Oh yeah, that'll send someone to the hospital. "I like your name... Suits you."

[freebirdyance]

"Real nice to meet you, Clay," Hank says, raising his drink in his direction. It was easy to turn on the southern charm when he wanted to, slipping into a mask he knew well. Taking one more sip, he turns in his seat to face Clay fully, leaning his arm on the edge of the bar.

"You think so? No one's ever really told me that before... but I gotta say, so does yours." He chuckles as he gives Clay a once over... yeah, he's cute, alright. Finally, his gaze lands on the other man's drink. "So what's your poison? It looks... colorful."

[ghostsandexams]

Clay gets a cheesy smile on his face. One that he wouldn't give to... really, anyone in here if he was sober. But Hank is just so charming and he liked his name. And was that an accent? Oh, he was real intrigued now.

"This? It's a... uh..." Clay has to squint at the board in order to read it. Despite his major requiring god knows how much reading, he was still 4 drinks in. "Straw... Strawberry mojito. Yeah, yeah. That's it. And you?"

[freebirdyance]

Strawberry mojito. Just hearing the name gave Hank a toothache, but to each their own. He was never one to indulge in sweets very often, anyway. He raises his own glass. "Whiskey Sour," he answers, or at least it was before he downs the rest of it.

He lets out a pleased rumble before ordering another one without taking his eyes off of Clay. "Not as sour as it sounds, though. There's a good balance of sweet, too... maybe like us." He can't keep a straight face for long before he's turning his head and exhaling into the back of his hand. "Sorry, that was awful."

[ghostsandexams]

Even with the buzz he has, that line makes one of his brows raise. He can't help but laugh at the awful attempt at... Flirting? Is that the right word? He wasn't sure. All he's really sure of is that his smile... Wow.

"You're forgiven." Clay says. He gets a little bit closer to him. Whether it was on purpose or not, who knows? "So... If I'm guessing right, you think you're the sour one, hm?"

[freebirdyance]

You'll never guess who has taken over my brain-

[freebirdyance]

This bar is a little nicer than he's used to, but Hank isn't complaining. They have alcohol and the possibility of a potential hookup... oh, and pool tables. Nice. Yeah, this would do nicely. However, he also notices a karaoke setup toward the back and wrinkles his nose.

It's fine. He can be good at blocking shit out.

Striding up to the bar, he sits on a stool and lifts his chin to signal the bartender. "Whiskey Sour," he orders just loud enough to be heard over whoever is absolutely butchering a Queen song.

@ghostsandexams

[ghostsandexams]

"I've got to break free... I want to break freeee!" Clay sings, the notes he's trying to reach being way out of his range. He would normally say no to doing any sort of singing, but after a good 4 drinks, his confidence had shot through the roof.

The equally drunken patrons give him applause, as well as a few forever-drunken spirits. It's enough for him as he stumbles off the stage for the next person to go.

Making his way to the bar, he sits in the spot next to Hank, seemingly unaware of the man.

[freebirdyance]

Hank almost claps, but it would be from relief that the song is over. Even if it did take some guts and too much alcohol to attempt Freddie's vocals in a karaoke setting. Instead, he continues nursing his drink, sparing the slightest glance to the man as he sits down next to him.

Hm. He's actually pretty cute, though. Their eyes meet briefly, and he nods in casual greeting.

A couple of spirits in particular seem to be hanging around him. A man around the same age, and one who is older and looks like they could be related.

[ghostsandexams]

Clay doesn't mind the spirits. There are lots of people here with dead people around them. From what he's learned, they're most likely dead folks that hate the fact that their descendants are out drinking and doing drugs. Whatever.

He signals the bartender for a drink, before looking over at Hank. A dreamy look on his face. It could just be the alcohol... but wow, is he cute.

"Heeeey." He says, a shaky smile on his face.

[freebirdyance]

At the greeting, Hank turns to look at him once more, showing a confident smile. He didn't need the booze for that, just... a list of other things.

"Hey," he says with a nod toward the stage. "You killed it up there. Queen's a bold choice, killer band." He thanks the bartender before sipping his drink, feeling that sense of ease wash over him. "I'm Hank."

[ghostsandexams]

"Thanks. They're one of my favorites." Clay is handed his next drink before he can even finish his sentence. A pink cocktail that's most likely more sugar than booze, but it's enough to get the juices flowing.

"I'm Clay." He says, sipping on the concoction. Oh yeah, that'll send someone to the hospital. "I like your name... Suits you."

[freebirdyance]

"Real nice to meet you, Clay," Hank says, raising his drink in his direction. It was easy to turn on the southern charm when he wanted to, slipping into a mask he knew well. Taking one more sip, he turns in his seat to face Clay fully, leaning his arm on the edge of the bar.

"You think so? No one's ever really told me that before... but I gotta say, so does yours." He chuckles as he gives Clay a once over... yeah, he's cute, alright. Finally, his gaze lands on the other man's drink. "So what's your poison? It looks... colorful."

[ghostsandexams]

Clay gets a cheesy smile on his face. One that he wouldn't give to... really, anyone in here if he was sober. But Hank is just so charming and he liked his name. And was that an accent? Oh, he was real intrigued now.

"This? It's a... uh..." Clay has to squint at the board in order to read it. Despite his major requiring god knows how much reading, he was still 4 drinks in. "Straw... Strawberry mojito. Yeah, yeah. That's it. And you?"