nick dalton

i'm just young, rich and tasteless

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

@ofdarknessanddesire Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, there was a part of Nickel that took pride in his job. Not as a barback at The Rookery, God forbid, but as the Senator's Handler, making sure he kept up his end of the bargain he had made with the fey. Lacha made it seem important, like he was the key to making sure that there was just enough legal loopholes for the fey to slip through human law. It was stupid, but he liked making her happy, always made sure that between being the family fuck-up he found something out interesting enough to perk her interest. A name the senator dropped, a change in his plans.

Nickel leaned back into the couch, waiting to be called in to talk to Lacha. Bored, not wanting to work through the notifications on his phone, Nick closed his eyes and focused on his power. Winter brought forth fireplaces, there was plenty to listen into, but most of it was boring; domestic chats, televisions. It was almost enough to give him a headache, so he focused closer.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

@detalbright

If there was one thing Nickel hated, it was the police. Meddlesome, interrupting in things they would be better off to ignore, like Nick being a 'public disturbance'. And now here he was, coming down a high of alcohol and a dash of #69, pressing his face to the bars of holding. Every officer on the floor knew that Nick would tell his father about this, but now that he was sobering up and could use his brain, Nick was starting to be a bit more specific about who his father was, and about certain cuts to the police department that could be brought up in the Senate.

Finally, they seemed a little flustered. Hit them where it hurts. He watched as two of the officers whispered to each other, and then one of them walking off into the bullpen. Nick smirked, pulled back away from the bars.

God fucking bless America and her political corruption.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

ofperidot:

“Grandma?” Somewhat endearingly, Peridot rolled her eyes, clobbering him over the head with her spare hand. For good measure, of course. “Isn’t there a line somewhere about respecting your elders?” Her expression creased. “Something like that.” Unlike certain other fey, formality had never bothered her. Deadpan, Peridot stared at him, hands already reaching for the bottle. “Why? Then it wouldn’t be a celebration.”

Nickel rubbed where Peridot had struck him, giving her a pout. "You've still got it," he groaned, gratefully taking a sip of his whiskey and coke. They used to use this stuff as anaesthetic, right? "Ouch, you're really not pulling your punches, huh?" Nickel nudged her with his shoulder, laughing under his breath.

"You been up to your old tricks? You said you'd teach me some one day, since I can still learn them."

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

danicacastillo:

Danica gives Nickle a look with little expression, save for the heavy heave of an annoyed sigh. “Nowhere with you.” Nickle was not going to loop her in on a night of drinking and dancing. She was already exhausted and since the moment she opened her eyes to go to a training session, Danica was already ready to go back to bed. She wants so badly to curl up into thick blankets and sleep. She was already feeling incredibly drowsy, she feels her focus start to diminish. It wouldn’t be long until the world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of her thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane.

Ignoring Nickle as he throws back the shots, Danica continues to do her work so that she was able to get out of there. In her mind, she lists off what she needs to do tomorrow. A training session at eight, be at The Rookery for ten, run any off ground Rookery errands that she will be given, go to confession(?)… Get Mateo back, get Mateo back, get Mateo back. Danica takes the barley cleaned glass and washes it herself before drying it. What Nickle was doing wasn’t perfect, but it was something, she guessed… Danica wasn’t in the mood for half-assed gestures. Or anything, really. “If you let me finish this, I wont say a word. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Nick pouted as Danica shot him down like a bird from the sky. He shrugged it off just as quickly. She looked tired, as did most of the Players. Thank fuck he wasn't a human, didn't have to go and do something stupid like throw himself to the whims of the fey. Through the first hit of alcohol, Nick remembered Benji, how he was supposed to recruit him as an Unseelie Player. He smiled and pushed that job way down.

"Hey, if you want the job it's yours," Nick said, raising his hands above his head, suds falling down onto his hair. “Less work for me.”

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

malchemist:

Malachite didn’t let Nickel take the glass too far, reaching out to stop its movement with a raised brow and relieving the young fey of his burden with a flat look. “They also say don’t beat a dead horse, and yet–” Mal’s lips twisted into a smirk and they knocked back the shot with a low hum and set the glass back down on the bar between them, “I would say my door is always open, but that would be a lie, considering the last time you ‘visited’ I ended up with half of my inventory drowning in pool of a viscous fluid I still have yet to figure out how you created.”

Nickel couldn't help the grin that came to his face when Malachite took the glass, lightened his load. "And yet, the dead horse keeps giving," he replied back easily, wondering when Malachite would allow him to order them another round. Seeing the alchemist drunk looked like it would be a fucking trip.

"That makes two of us confused," Nickel said with a sheepish shrug. "I maintain that I didn't touch anything." He did lean on a shelf, but that wasn't the same as touching it, really. Not that Malachite needed to know that. "Maybe I could be like, the reverse health and safety officer. If I come into your lab and break something, then you know you have to prepare for it."

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

jjudicium:

               “Ha ha, Nick. You are hilarious.” A roll of eyes accompanied his words, but inside the walls of his mind, part of him couldn’t help but latch onto his words; couldn’t help but spin them around and genuinely consider them. It was, of course, an undeniable fact that they were brothers — forever bound by blood. Yet more than once, despite their unbreakable bond, Benji had questioned if it was possible for blood brothers to be as different as they were. They were walking contradictions of each other: order and chaos; quiet and loudness; solitude and social. It had to defy the laws of very existence, their parents’ act of creating two individuals as drastically dissimilar as they were.

                 In response to his question, Benji shrugged. “I believe she asked us to be there at 3.” He answered truthfully. “That leaves you with”—his eyes drifted downward to check the time from his watch—“Two hours if we use public transportation. Two and a half hours if I drive us there.” As he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically stern, unyielding; but considering his brother’s current state, there was no universe where he would trust Nick with a car.

                Speaking of poor decisions and impulsive acts. Benji furrowed his brows, his head tilting, as the older Dalton’s movement came to a sudden halt. His gaze trailed after Nick’s, curiosity and worry battling for dominance inside his head, until the momentary silence was broken. “You got what now?” He asked, eyes widening in shock. Benji inhaled and exhaled, eyes falling closed. “Qu'avez-vous fait?” The boy mumbled absent-mindedly as his brother left the room, leaving him to rub his temples in solitude.

                If only the onset of a headache was a visible, tangible thing; perhaps then Nick would grant him a moment of peace. But it was not, so he was left with the intense feeling of regret over not having any painkillers with him. “Come on, Nick, you know it’s just family dinner.” Was he speaking to his older brother or a thoughtless child? “You must have some clean clothes in your closet. Just grab some of those, put them on and then we can go.”

"Who has dinner at three?" Nick grumbled to himself as he finished his business, washing his hands (Benji was peculiar like that) before coming back out into the bedroom. Two and a half hours didn't seem like enough time to get Nick ready for dinner with his dearest family. Not at all. It wasn't just family dinner for Nick. Over the years it had grown stilted, awkward as Nick pulled away. Still, orders were orders. "Yeah yeah, chill, I'll get ready little bro. And yes, you're more than welcome to drive."

Nick walked to his wardrobe, rubbed his temples as he looked at his clothes like they were pieces of some great, untold puzzle. He sighed and grabbed a white button up shirt, dropped his gaze down to his tattoo and put it back. He grabbed out a plaid shirt instead (it was only family dinner) and a white undershirt, a pair of clean Levis. "Speak now or forever hold your peace," he proclaimed, laying them out on the bed and walking over to the kitchen. He came back with glad-wrap and a piece of plain bread shoved in his mouth.

"I'll go have a shower. Don't get all OCD and start anxiously cleaning, that's what the maid is for." Nick grabbed a towel, sniffed it, and dashed back into the bathroom.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

envious-sean:

Sean huffed out a small laughed at his answer. Not the one he had been expecting for sure. But two could play this kind of game. “What makes you think you’ve made a bad decision? I’m just the vision of a perfect gentleman.” He smirked as he took a sip of his own scotch on the rocks, also noticing that they ordered similar drinks. He knew he’d seen him around but he’d never really interacted with him too much. There was no real reason to in his mind. But now that they were here, he might as well see what he could learn.

“Then I’d say you’ve found the right guy. Lucky you.”

Talking to Sean was made of bad decisions, though Sean didn't know much about that. Nickel smirked down at his drink, swirling it so the ice clinked against the glass. Everything would be easier if he kept his distance, but call him curious. He'd been watching Sean for the past few weeks with increasing intent, and now it looked like he'd finally had enough whiskey to give him the courage to do it. "Hm, there was something about your face..." he trailed off, gesturing to his own face before dropping his hand, giving Sean another smile. "Nevermind, I can see now that you're a perfect gentleman."

"If you really wanted to be alone you would have gone home," Nickel pointed out with a shrug, taking a sip of his drink. "You have that whole pissed off, ‘don't approach me' vibe going on, and I dig it, but if you really wanted to be alone you would have bought a bottle of Jack Daniels and taken it home and sulked there. Maybe you like the attention," Nick teased, amused at the thought that that was something they both shared. Nickel rested his head on his hand, looking Sean over. "So, rough day?"

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

hazyhazel:

She glanced down at her groceries, but there was nothing that wouldn’t survive a quick trip to the coffee shop. As long as she didn’t delay too long everything should be fine. Besides, she felt bad for nearly plowing into Nick, even if he wasn’t any worse for the wear because of it. It seemed like maybe he could use a friend, so she smiled and nodded. 

“That sound’s great. Do you want to go somewhere where you can get breakfast too,” she asked hesitantly. Getting a little bit of food in his system might help him out, but she wasn’t sure if the idea would be welcome. Some people, she’d learned, didn’t like the idea of eating while hungover. At least not until the worst had passed. “How’ve you been? Since ‘Camp Weird’?”

The mention of breakfast had his stomach twisting in anticipation. He’d been nauseous at his apartment, but the walk had mostly cleared that up. "Breakfast sounds great, I'll treat if you want anything." Hazel probably felt *bad about using her family's money, probably worked a fulltime job, made an effort to give back to the people who raised her. Nick had no such qualms. "I know a place a block from here, unless you had somewhere in mind."

"I've been, good. Been working at the Rookery since we left, meeting more Fey." It wouldn't do to say how his role was going. "What about you? You're... baking?" He motioned to her grocery bags.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

elise-senfuit:

“In that case … how tipsy are we aiming to get?” Elise wondered, grinning. She took a few peanuts out of the bowl that he pushed away, munching on them instead. “How’s cranberry vodka sound for a start?”

“They’re not that bad, bit too salty. Drunken fast food sounds divine, I know the perfect food truck we can go to.” As for the question about training, she merely shrugged, “ … it’s going. Don’t think Ivy likes me very much.” 

Nickel snorted at Elise's first suggestion of a drink. "Cranberry vodka sounds like a way to get black out drunk at a sorority party," he mumbled, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. "Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything." He turned to the bartender, gave them a wink. "Two cranberry vodkas, please."

Nick wrinkled his nose as she munched on the peanuts. Not his thing. "Ooh, the food truck sounds perfect!" He gave her a shrug when she mentioned Ivy, passing over her glass. "That makes the both of us. Though I can't tell whether she doesn't *like me or whether she just has a massive stick up her ass."

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

fuisecg:

                  Larkspur grinned, a toothy one that gave away none of her secrets but made to appear as open as she was guarded beneath plenty of layers. No cracks. Nothing but the pure joy that came from a life of being fey, as they wanted to appear to all those who didn’t know any better. Not to mention that it wasn’t so much an act when she was high as it was in the throes of needing more. “Do I know anything about you, Nickel? Are two of you worth a dime bag?” She laughed then, throwing a glance to where he was before she turned enough to face the other. “You know my name. You know me, sharing is what I do. It’s what I am, for a price.”

Nickel rolled his eyes at *that saying. He'd heard it plenty of times. He bet that Larkspur had never had to hear many jibes involving her name. "I'm definitely worth more than half a dime, Lark," he said, pulling his iPhone X out of his pocket. "I could be enticed to share, for a little more than a dime bag," he grinned, leaning his head on his hand. This was definitely a mistake, but it seemed like it was going to be a fun one.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

overseerivy:

It was strange, the wider Nickel’s smile grew, the more frustrated she got. Ivy was usually one to let herself be overtaken by happiness and joy. There was too little of it in the world and too much of it had been denied to her for too long. Despite what everyone may think, she actually likes being happy. But right now she just wished she could pack up and go home. “You get talked into one drink, you’ll usually let yourself get talked into ten. And I’ve got more important things to do.”

She gave a harsh roll of the eyes that clearly showed she didn’t approve when he downed the next shot. Not for the first time, she wondered if the Unseelie actually gained anything by having him stuck in Sean’s a human family. “Lucky you, Lacha would skin me for using you for target practice.” Besides keeping he and Sean apart was probably a good move. “You know if you’re gunning for a promotion, there are better ways to go about it.”

"That's the fun of letting yourself get talked into drinks," Nickel muttered under his breath, flipping up the last of the stools onto the bench. "Someone's gotta do the dirty work and handle our dear old Senator, right?" he said with a shrug, though it was hardly dirty work. Listen in on a few phone calls, tell the staff that he enjoyed scented candles so he could easily listen in. "Lucky me."

"A promotion?" He asked, suddenly a little interested. Not that Nick had any grandeur hopes pinned to his job at the Rookery, this was merely a way to pass the time, get a little extra spending money. Integrate with Unseelie society. Still, he wouldn't mind moving up the ladder from common grunt to skilled worker. As he saw it do less work for more cash. "Now if a promotion were on the line you can bet that I would be a model employee."  

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

jasperxrebel:

Jasper didn’t often mix drinking with work because well, he’d be pretty useless if he was off his face. But his shift was over and his head constantly pulsed and a free round was never something to complain about. The shot went back with a bitterness Jasper mostly welcomed. “Oh yeah? What makes you unfit to talk to the customers? Not suave enough?” He replied in jest, a smirk curling onto Jasper’s lips. “I think as long as we don’t make too much of a ruckus, Ivy will be fine. Unless you’re a rambunctious drunk? I’m more on the silly side.”

"Definitely too suave," said Nick with a grin right back at Jasper. He elbowed him in the side, followed it with, "That's why you're a bartender." He smirked as he knocked back his second shot. "I'm a 'here to have a good time' kind of drunk. The kind Ivy hates having on the job," Nickel said with a shrug. "I'd love to see you as a silly drunk."

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

elise-senfuit:

“Yeah? What’re you buying?” Elise asked, grinning. She wouldn’t have minded a relaxing evening, especially after the events of … well, that party. It was so odd to think about, so strange to know that she had witnessed DEATH ( and there was no escaping it now ). 

“Can we get some food, too?” 

"I'm 'buying' whatever you feel like," Nick replied easily, knocking into Elise's side. "Food included, though for that we'll have to leave the Rookery." He pushed away the bowl of peanuts with disdain. "I hate peanuts, and their stale bulk-brand pretzels."

"Drinks, we catch up, and then drunk-fast food?" Sounded like a plan to Nick. "How's training?"

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

malchemist:

Malachite didn’t usually spend their free time at the bar, but they weren’t able to focus in their lab, so the Rookery seemed to be the best place to surround themself with noise without interaction. Until a warm body filled the stool next to them, and offered them a drink, “Doesn’t that get old?” They turned to look at him with a raised brow, “I mean, honestly. How often does that really work for you?”

Rejection stung, but not trying was rejection without a chance for success. Nickel shrugged at Malachite, taking back the offered drink slowly, still giving the Alchemist a chance to accept it. "Nothing is original anymore," Nickel pointed out with a shrug. "Don't they say 'if it's not broke don't fix it'?" He held up the shot, giving it a last wiggle in front of them.

"Besides, it's a rare sight to see you emerge from your lab. Thought I'd keep you company."

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

jjudicium:

                 The hoarse groan that seemed to come from Nick’s bedroom had Benji release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. It was a relief to receive some kind of confirmation that his brother was home — now he wouldn’t have to waste time for trying to locate him and coming up with an explanation for his absence from the Daltons’ traditional family dinner. He moved through the apartment in silence; his eyes noticing the signs of what his brother had been up to last night, but not lingering on anything specific. He had seen all of this before, so there was no reason to spend extra time on it.

                “That is my name. Good of you to finally remember it.” He quipped, his tone playful, after he pushed open the bedroom door and leaned against the doorframe. Not many got to witness this side of him; the relaxed boy without the burdens of the world on his shoulders. Nick, as his brother, had been more privy to it than most, but even he wasn’t granted the privilege of enjoying it longer than a short moment. Soon enough, his expression smoothed, returning to its permanent state of polite neutrality, revealing nothing of what was going through his mind. 

               “Mom invited us”—a hint of a smile; she hadn’t invited as much as she had commanded—“For Sunday dinner, remember? I’m here to pick you up.” He reminded calmly. As he spoke, he eyed Nick’s current state — seemed like he had made the right call by showing up earlier. “How much time do you think you need to get ready?”

His head pounded like the bass from a shitty club downtown. The kind of club freshmen with fake IDs would rave to get into. Groaning some more, Nick slowly raised his head from his hands and gave Benji a haphazard smile. He shot his hand out to the side, groping to open the minicooler that served as his bedside table and pulling out a bottle of water from it. He cracked it open and guzzled at it as Benji entered his bedroom. It was a mess, as it usually was, clothes strew about, tables messy. For a second Nick could have sword Benji's mood was playful, but that second passed like a flickering candle.

"It's coming back to me now... You look familiar; are we related?" shot back Nick, though it was delayed, pauses a little awkward as he struggled to make himself comfortable in his body. Everything hurt, he felt sticky from sweat, his stomach twisted. By the time Benji spoke again Nick knew his playful younger brother was gone, replaced with the aspiring lawyer.

"Dinner..." Nick repeated, taking another swig of water. Yes... the calendar alert... That must have been it. Sober-Nick must have put an alarm on to remind him about it. Sober-Nick was an idiot with too much faith. "How much time do I have?" Nick asked, slowly pushing himself to his feet.

Any motion to get ready was suddenly called to a halt when Nick stared at his forearm. It was covered in gladwrap, something dark pointing down near the inner crease of his elbow. "Huh, I think I got a tattoo..." he mused, scratching his face. An old-fashioned hand holding a dagger. He was taking this rather well, considering. Was he still drunk? Shaking it off, he wandered over to the en suite, half-closed the door while he took care of business.

"What's the dress code? Formal or formal but with a tux?" he called out from the bathroom.

[nickelforeverytime-blog]

ofperidot:

Peridot’s smile curled into something that could have been friendliness. Raising the shot and inclining her head towards Nick, she gulped it down without hesitation, relishing the burn. “Got any more of those coming?” After all, what was the point of being the bartender if you couldn’t score free booze? Not that she ever had any intention of paying. “Drinking out of desperation is never as fun as celebration.” 

Nickel leaned back into the bar, grin stretching wider as Peridot took the shot like a champ. "Grandma are you sure you want to keep drinking?" Nick teased, waving over another round of drinks. "You know you can always call me if you want a celebration."