damixns:
“Funny. Here I was hoping that it had been my fault in some miraculous way.”
“Aren’t most of the shitty things that happen in this town your fault?”
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damixns:
“Funny. Here I was hoping that it had been my fault in some miraculous way.”
“Aren’t most of the shitty things that happen in this town your fault?”
anderswynne:
“Would you mind moving? You’re blocking the light.”
“Shit, my bad.” Grayson turned to squint at the light before shifting out of the way. “Sorry.”
eleanorxdubois:
“Why don’t I believe you? A black eye means you’re responsible for something… So who did you piss off?”
“I piss everyone off, El. It’s my great talent.” He flashed her a bright grin. “Got any frozen peas or anything?”
roslynmalone:
“Hear this?” Roslyn pushed her foot down into the snow. “This white stuff doesn’t build character, but it’ll give you a cold.” Perhaps it was an old wives’ tale, but Roslyn had yet to meet someone to prove her differently. She laughed at his remark before giving him a playful nudge. “You know I didn’t mean it like that! I enjoy our time together.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat before stepping up onto the pier, turning to face Grayson. “What have you been up to? Catch me up.”
“Yeah, it’d be real tragic to die of a cold,” Grayson quipped, leaning down and scooping up a handful of snow. He packed it together into a ball and tossed it at Roslyn with a grin. “We’re dead, Ros, we might as well live a little.” He chuckled as she nudged him. At the question, he shrugged. “The usual. Hanging ‘round the bar, keeping out of trouble. For the most part, anyways. How about you? Any cool new updates in your life?”
roslynmalone:
“You know..I love the outdoors, but isn’t it a little chilly for a walk?” Her arms remained folded across her chest as they walked down to the pier, each step creating a resounding crunch. “What’s the occasion?”
“What, this? This is nothing! Plus, y’know, cold builds character.” Grayson flashed Roslyn a grin. Despite the cold, he only wore a light jacket; he really did like the cold. “We need an occasion to hang out now? C’mon, Ros, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”
"Okay, it’s not as bad as it looks and it’s not my fault.”
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“You mean to tell me my thrilling tale of Friday night’s bar crawl has fallen on deaf ears? That cuts deep, Ros.”
“Where’d I lose you?”
“Almost a little sad when you think about it, right? Like what makes people so despondent that they can only find solace in the bottom of a glass.” Micah didn’t attempt to trouble himself too often with the tragic backstories of his fellow residents, but something empathetic twisted in his gut at the horrific tragedy that man must have endured to become an alcoholic recluse. He pitied him and more than that, he never wished to transform into a human shell. “Micah,” the taller male responded easily, lips tugging upwards into a half-moon smile. “Friendly is always better than the alternative, I’ll take slurring happiness over elaborated cruelty any day of the week.”
Grayson shrugged. “I guess so,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t really care one way or another. When he’d been alive, people didn’t talk about this sort of thing, or if they did, it was in hushed whispers. Addiction had been a sort of taboo, something people knew about but pretended not to see. Grayson had faint memories of his father in varying states of intoxication, had seen countless people in bars like this man, drunk more often than sober. He usually tried to ignore it. “Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile. “If you’re looking for slurring cruelty, try coming in on a Tuesday night. For some reason, the assholes come out on Tuesdays.”
“You’re such a drama queen.” Lucy couldn’t help but laugh, rolling over so her body was facing Grayson’s. “Depends on my say, though, doesn’t it? I might just spend my next income on one and get them to torture you to death.”
“I am not,” Grayson sighed, hiding a smile. “I’m dying. Have some sympathy.” He groaned at her words, taking his arm off his eyes just enough to peek out at her. “It’ll be too late by then,” he sighed. “I’m already dying right now. Slowly and painfully and how do I need to puke again?” He looked a bit green.
Bar Buddies || Gray + El
“That’s fucked up.” Eleanor cackled, shaking blonde locks into her face as she considered every ounce of his implication. “And that’s coming from me.” There was something unbelievably satisfying about the way in which Grayson hung on her every word, the genuine nature of his interest never ceasing to enthrall her. “I did, but some might disagree,” she mused, nails drumming rhythmically against a glass caught in her palm as she studied the amber liquid contained inside of it. “I’ve heard conflicting reports on my innocence.” Her interest was suddenly piqued by her companion’s refusal to answer the question and instead consume his own liquor, an unspoken intrigue billowing within her mind. “I ruined him… He was a senator in NYC, so I went public with the whole affair. Tabloids, interviews, everything. I can’t tell you the number of threats and bribes sent my way to stay quiet, but I figured he deserved it and I liked seeing my name in the newspapers. So I kept sharing what I had, stories and pictures and witnesses. His wife left him and took the kids, he was forced to resign from his elected position, and last I heard he might have moved to Montana.” It was quite the story and Eleanor figured it was best to wrap up the whole saga with, “They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Whether or not Grayson thought less of her for it didn’t matter, she owned her sins and brandished them like a banner of her capabilities. “Have you ever seen the men who did this to you? Since it happened, I mean. I know it’s been awhile and I’m not sure when you woke up, but… The question stands.”
Grayson shrugged, shoulders shaking with laughter. He knew his sesnse of humor was... different. Not many people he knew joked about their deaths with the same sort of casualness he enjoyed. Hell, he’d had people get offended at some of his jokes from time to time, and hearing someone actually laugh at one felt nice. “Sounds to me like the guy was a dick,” he said, faint smile on his features. He’d always liked seeing people get what they deserved; as someone who had spent a lot of his life as a victim, seeing people get what was coming to them held a certain satisfaction. Listening to what she’d done, listening to the details of how she’d destroyed the man’s life, his smile grew. “You gave him exactly what he deserved,” he said appreciatively. From the sounds of it, he’d been a man obsessed with reputation, and with men like that, ruining their image was the best punishment. At her question, he shook his head. “It was twenty years before I woke up again,” he told her with a shrug. “By that point, they’d all either left or aged to the point that I didn’t recognize them anymore. Most of them, I never even knew their names, you know? I didn’t know them before.” He studied her for a moment, trying to decide if his next question was appropriate. Figuring appropriate had never really been an option with him and Eleanor, he came out with it. “How’d you die? I never knew.” He was always curious to find out how people found themselves in this situation.
His teeth were bared when he realized his punch wasn’t going to land, and the momentum from the swing sent him forward, leaving his footing unsteady. Damien was seeing red. He wanted to land punch after punch on the other man; he wanted to see that smile wiped off of his face. “I’d give all of my time away if it means I get the chance to beat you into a pulp.” He felt like he was all loose limbs as he sent more punches towards Grayson. Right then, he didn’t care who was watching, or if he was only going to end up in trouble. “Let’s go then.” He turned towards the bartender with a tight smile. “I can’t promise we won’t get blood on your pavements.” He took a step backwards, knowing the bar’s door was behind him. He didn’t want to turn his back on Grayson.
Grayson laughed loudly and humorlessly as Damien spoke, anger burning deep in his gut. It was rare for him to meet someone who he hated as much as Damien; generally, he was a fairly laid back guy, and he liked to think he was easy to get along with, but Damien just rubbed him the wrong way. Every time he spoke, it was like Grayson found himself back in a bar in 1949, being goaded and pushed by the group of drunken men who would eventually end his life. Turning to the bartender, he smiled, looking almost apologetic at the disruption. “I’ll leave him with the rest of the trash,” he assured the man with a short salute, following Damien outside with his fists still balled at his side.
“Good. You should always agree with everything I say and never speak to the contrary. It will make your life a million times easier, I promise.” A sly smile graced her features at his suggestion, her thoughts momentarily weighing the options before she opted to respond, leaning close to his ear. “Perhaps I’ll give you an opportunity to prove yourself,” El whispered salaciously. “Over, and over, and over.”
Eleanor was thoroughly satiated by the reply he gave, content with the knowledge that Grayson wouldn’t leave her in the disconcerting position of attempting to console another when she held little sympathy for the plights of others. Once more she intertwined her arm with his and allowed her company to lead the way towards the spot of his demise. “I’m glad someone else agrees with me on that, I’m growing rather tired of having to explain why the afterlife is far more enjoyable. We can’t get sick, we can’t die, we can experiment with all sorts of things that might have otherwise ruined us. I see very little downside.”
“That sounds doable,” he smiled. “I’m all for making my life easier.” As she leaned in to whisper in his ear, his smile widened. This was something he could get used to, he decided. Eleanor seemed to share at least some of his views and feelings on things, and it was always easier to talk to someone who had Returned like him. “I’m nothing if not an opportunist,” he said lowly, smirking.
He nodded in agreement as she spoke. “I never understood the people who got upset about it,” he shrugged. “I guess my life wasn’t something that felt like a huge loss, though. I didn’t have family. Hell, I barely had friends. Death is better than life.” And for him, it was. If the only cost he had to pay was the inability to leave Bentley, then he figured he got off lucky. He’d never really wanted to leave the town, anyways.
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I would hurt you or use you. | you unsettle me. | I dislike you or you annoy me. | I would like to get to know you better. | I pity you. | you confuse me. | I feel indifferent towards you. | I would be friends with you. | I would fight by your side. | I would hug you or hold your hand. | I would kiss you. | I would sleep with you. | I would lie for you. | I would protect you. | I would fall in love with you. | I would kill for you | I respect you. | you are my family. | I don’t know you.
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