When choosing to be in a bar at all, this would not her be her go-to. She often wonders if the people around here can sense that. Her fingers tap a rhythm on the bar, a song she’s been listening to perhaps, or something she’s heard in a shop. The song itself is unimportant; the repetitive movement is steadying her. This is when the challenge is the most necessary, the times in which she has to start her night by telling the bartender not to give her anything alcoholic. She trusts herself, but not to the extent that she’ll risk it.
This should have been something she predicted; not her usual part of town, but undoubtedly his. If she were more aware, she’d wonder if this is why she chose Fear Knot tonight. Subconsciously, anyway. His voice stands out from the rest of the murmur like hers does. Accented, rich. But where hers sits in its own corner, not quite matching, but cohabitating with the rest of it all, British but smoothed over, soft, his is thick and rough and seems to battle the rest of them. It seems to win.
She’s known of his presence all night, but as soon as he’s there, beside her and immediately taking up space, she can feel her heart-rate speed up. The itch that scratches at her constantly is amplified because somehow he smells the same. It’s been months since she saw him last, and even longer since they had a conversation. Lotta carefully doesn’t look at him. Her hands move from the bar to her lap, knowing how easy it would be to grab the shot the bartender puts down. It isn’t the same girl as before.
“I’m not drinking.” Finally mustering up the courage to look at him, she regrets it instantly when she finds he isn’t looking at her. She swallows. “You can have it yourself.”
“Not or won’t? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t remember you on fucking tap water.” There’s a moment of perplexity as opposed to confrontation which surfaces in the furthest crevice of his mind. It’s unlike her, he thinks. Though he’d suppose he knows her far less now than he ever believed he would. The parts of her which once mirrored his own now turn at an uneven pace. “Don’t mind if I do.” He opts not to allow it to go to waste; immediately throwing the contents of it down his throat. The burn nestles at a comfortable rate before he evades the silence with the sound of his own voice.
“Y’know, darling,” he leans inwards as if harbouring a secret. “If you’re on some kind of health kick, I have something that might help the process. Comes in a baggy.” Amusement resides in the bright blue of his eyes as he examines her doe-like features. There’s a sly tugging of his lips and it’s ever-present he’s enjoying this far more than he’d confess. Joel would test the waters — see how far he could go before she clocked him right in the jaw. As if it was the only time he’d ever feel something.
time: 20:09
location: fear knot
status: closed to @charlottewrenn
He’s waltzing around in a room filled with smoke and the weight of it sits in his lungs. There’s a snooker cue tucked under his right arm and a glass of whiskey in his free hand; it’s half-empty, the taste of cinnamon on his tongue. Joel is no less amused than the onlookers — there participation an accumulation of idle chatter, roaring laughter and the occasional quips. The Cheshire-cat grin stitched across his rugged features extends furthermore as his companion misses the next shot. Their disappointment surging like an oncoming tide.
“Whiskey again,” his question is rhetorical and Joel doesn’t answer. Spend a minute with him and it’s all too obvious. The man was made from the stuff. He didn’t drink much else.
Joel rests the cue on a rack on the nearest wall, situated behind a huddle of elderly men. They nod out a silent greeting and presume their muttering. It seems amicable enough between slurred words and hunched shoulders. When his companion returns, he gestures towards the bartender who places a single filled glass on the counter. Joel dips his gaze, doesn’t offer much of a thanks and throws the rest of his own contents down his throat. He grimaces as it burns its way down, the warmth pooling in the depth of his stomach. It’s a comfort. No different than taking NyQuil to sleep. He toys with the empty glass in his hand as he eyes those who huddle around the bar. A single stool stands out between flocks of college students, lonesome men and then her. A rose amongst rambunctious thorns.
“Make that two,” he gestures towards his newly poured whiskey, placing his empty glass alongside it. His words were more of a greeting as opposed to a statement. Opting to making his presence known in a more informal manner. When he sits, he stretches his arms out across the bar table, his eyes taking her in for only a mere moment. “Hope you can still handle your liquor, L.”
welcoming joel, the man who would sell each and every one of you to satan for a corn chip.
trigger warnings: drug use, toxic relationship, alcoholism, violence.
basics
name: joel thomas crowley
nicknames: joe, joey, son of a bitch
birthday/age: 6th may, 1985, 04:01 / thirty-six
gender/pronouns: cis-male / he, him
sexuality: pansexual - though he wouldn’t label himself
zodiacs: taurus ☉ ; sagittarius ☽ ; pisces 🡕
occupation: unemployed. he boxes occasionally and picks up small jobs here and there. he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty so hmu if u need a lil henchman.
hobbies: he has numerous toxic hobbies but he’s also a pianist and an avid gym-goer.
born in liverpool to a large family, joel was the eldest brother. his family were impoverished and both parents were neglectful, so he found ways to survive. this first began as begging outside corner shops for food before he resorted to theft. he’d steal from his parents, from strangers, from those in his class. it soon became an act he did for a thrill as opposed to putting food in his mouth. he quickly learnt the importance of making friends and how these friends were all the more willing to offer a helping hand.
whilst joel was a street-smart kid, he was only slightly above average for his studies and put very little of his time into revision. he much preferred going through the motion of things and didn’t dwell too much on school. though nothing exceptional, it still afforded him a decent college education and the opportunity to go to university. upon acceptance, he leaves his family at the drop of a hat and heads north to scotland.
he attends the university of edinburgh and studies law. unsurprisingly, he’s good at it in all the ways he’s good at lying. he’s well-liked by his peers, considered the life of the party and soon begins dabbling in the narcotics which surround his friend group. when he realises this could be his source of income, he turns a weekend hobby into a lifestyle. it exists as more of a rumour to those outside of his inner circle but he holds a reputation as the ‘go to’ within this group and it keeps him afloat.
at this time, he meets charlotte at university. he appears as all the things which accumulate as a good partner; good grades, charming, a little unhinged but exciting to be around. though brief, this is the first moment in joel’s life where he considers the feelings of someone else. he falls for her slowly and then all at once.
outside of his relationships, he’s sporty - particularly in boxing - and as he improves, he gradually garners the attention of the wrong people. whilst this isn’t a moment in his life which requires sympathy, there is a cause for concern when he fits in as if his sharp edges were nothing more than a puzzle piece waiting to slot into place. he’s not the nice guy getting caught up. he belongs there.
eventually, they recognise there could be some real money in these fights. however, the people that grow to learn this are not good people by any means. they’re money hungry, twisted, the kind who’d give you a black eye before they shake your hand. he’s not scared of them but he’s not foolish either. so, when they recognise his ‘talent’, they begin using him as a source of increasing their income and heavy money gets put into his fights. he makes more than his hands could ever hold.
with this tarnished wealth, he spends it in the most familiar fashion - recklessly. blow, alcohol, feeding all the toxic habits which both him and lotte possess. he wastes all of it to destroy the pair of them. they have a tumultuous and toxic relationship, no strangers to frequent affairs, which sends them to destinations he once only knew on the face of a map. when he proposes to her, it’s not some romantic affair over candlelight dinner and an orchestra. he wins an overtly tasteless diamond ring in a game of poker and in an intoxicated stupor he makes the decision to propose. she says yes, they fool themselves into a happiness that charlotte leaves soon after. abandoning him for a place he’d heard of only briefly.
unfortunately, this impetuous life he endures continues to dismantle when he loses a crucial boxing match. he ends up in severe debt and unable to pay it back. they break his bones, mottle his flesh black and blue and only when they threaten to drop him in the union canal do they stop. this is a cycle which repeats itself, growing closer to his penultimate finale in each scenario. until, he runs. using his educated background as a means to send himself all the way to CH to find the woman who had up and left him.
some more notes
has a strong scouse accent
has a degree but doesn’t desire to use it. picks up small jobs here and there instead.
loves classical music
probably won’t pay you back
hasn’t spoke to his family in many years
the human equivalent of a blocked sewage drain
wanted connections
flings - short-term or long-term. these interactions mean nothing to him so it’s unlikely you’ll get your next otp out of him (unless your otp is joel x prison). forgive me.
people he might do jobs for
a housemate he only intended on crashing with for a night
all the enemies/hateships - this can be for numerous reasons; you’re friends with charlotte, he undercut you when selling narcotics, he slept with your current or ex partner, he deceived you in some way, he did a job for a relative of yours and you disapprove.
a friend or two (or rather someone who tolerates him) - i need to strongly emphasise that if your character is friends with joel then he would sell them out without question if it suited him.
