S A W Y E R

When I was a kid, my sister & I used to pretend we were heroes with swords. We were the only ones who could save the day. But perhaps we set the bar just a little bit high. Maybe we’re just regular people; the one’s who get saved.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

audreyxblake:

If Ikea didn’t want people taking their booze anywhere other than their ‘restaurant,’  they wouldn’t have handed out drinks in fucking plastic cups. Audrey had been sold on walking out of the place as soon as the drink was pressed into her palm, much less when she ordered whateverthefuck seemed to be the most expensive wine they had. It didn’t really matter – - both she and Sawyer came armed with flasks of something from his home; something that would take the edge off of buying furniture from Ikea. 

 ❝Oh– - ❞ Sawyer was off to stroking the horse while Audrey regarded the piece as if she might have an exhibit in the Louvre.   ❝It’s certainly something.❞ Another drink from her plastic cup left the bottom looking rather transparent.  ❝I think you need it. I mean – - I definitely want him for my birthday. I think – - I think you’ve gotta buy him. Him and some chairs.❞ She leaned her frame against the cart, eyeing the horse that was like the tens of others surrounding it,  ❝He’s so regal.❞ And, again, so much like the other god damn horses on the same fucking shelf.  ❝Actually….❞

Audrey was suddenly detaching herself from the thus-empty cart so she might survey the room they were part of. A picturesque living room – - if one defined picturesque as ‘cowboys blowing their load in a pattern book’ - – one that she pretended to adore.  ❝Why stop at the horse? I think this should be your new aesthetic, Walker. This is the new you.❞ A turn to Sawyer,  ❝What do you think?❞

“I could not be happier to hear you say those words.“ Sawyer looked content as he tried to reposition himself in the odd chair he found himself in. It wasn’t as if he’d been fishing to purchase the two foot tall white horse or anything. Validation was everything. Though, it appeared that chairs would still be on the receipt too.

”No, no.“ Sawyer’s protest came on swift. He struggled for a moment to pull himself out of the chair before he was standing once more on the faux cow hide rug that dominated the majority of the living room. “Hard pass.“ He said, brow knitting together before he took a drink to quell the idea of his living room becoming a scene from a spaghetti western. “Let’s find another room. That chair is not the business. The whole aesthetic is wrong.“ He said, looking as pretentious as a man could leaving a western themed room a cup of wine in one hand, scooping up a horse with the other. “Come, come.“

[sawyer-walker-blog]

audreyxblake:

❝Well, this isn’t your birthday,❞ Audrey corrected, evidently having dropped the argument that she didn’t give a shit about birthdays and had forgotten her own.  ❝I couldn’t be your lawyer, I’m afraid. It’s a conflict of interest – - I’d be too broken up in the courtroom. And I’d be needing to use that time swiping my pain away on Tinder.❞ 

Finishing the champagne seemed like the best option – - or the only option, as Sawyer had insisted the flasks were for whiskey, implying that they’d be filling those before leaving. Any doubts she had about how quickly they’d be able to finish the bottle were washed away when her champagne flute found her lips involuntarily and a waterfall of champagne passed from the mouth of the bottle directly into Sawyer’s face.  ❝Jesus Christ,❞ the sound of amazement – - or maybe disgust - – was muffled against glass, but she dutifully drained whatever she had left of the drink and held the empty vessel toward him. 

Before she could even get comfortable, he had snatched the bottle away from her. It became clear that the flute wouldn’t be necessary, but Audrey didn’t have time to discard it – - actually she didn’t have time to think before she was tilting her head back, doing her best to crane her neck in a way that would keep champagne in her mouth rather than on her dress. By the time Sawyer had finished pouring, the only amount that escaped was due to her half-choking-half-laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Audrey managed to gather herself together, but made a move to take the bottle while he worked out the logistics. 

❝I wouldn’t be caught dead in a Target,❞ she retorted immediately, seeming entirely too serious for a woman who just had champagne poured directly into her mouth. Another swig of her own gave him the time needed to settle on IKEA, which was found to be more than acceptable.  ❝Fuck, of course. IKEA. How domestic. I need lightbulbs anyway.❞ Whatever remained in the bottle was pushed toward him while she fumbled around for her phone, ❝Should we go now? Drink more and then go– - no, wait, let’s take those flasks and drink as we go. Think you can keep your shit together long enough to find some chairs?❞

“My god...“ Sawyer started, pointing enigmatically with his pinky at a rather queer looking statue of a white horse. “I think I want it.“ He confessed before taking a drink from his plastic cup of mulling wine. Whether or not IKEA intended people to walk away from the cafe area with their festive new beverage option was yet to be seen. Regardless, Sawyer stepped forward to stroke a hand down the horses white mane. “That’s real nice.“ He said, turning to look at Audrey for agreement. “I’ve got the urge to name it.“ He said stepping through the fake living room set, eyes still on the horse statue as he happily took a seat in inverted teepee looking chair that he instantly regretted squatting into. “If you wanted him for you birthday, I’d understand.“ Sawyer confirmed with a little nod. “I already love him more than I love myself.”

[gailxrogers]

Sawyer Walker & Audrey Blake

I’m bored.                             Wanna fuck and throw things at strangers?

[sawyer-walker-blog]

audreyxblake:

Upon being told to shut the fuck up, Audrey leaned forward and touched two fingers behind the shell of her ear. ❝I’m sorry, I know I didn’t hear you tell me to shut the fuck up. My hearing must be going as well.❞ Her smile, on the other hand, refused to be hidden by any means. Manicured fingers moved to cover her mouth, but lines formed around her eyes and her lips poked out from the edges of their cover; it wasn’t exactly a convincing display of indignation at that point. Interestingly enough, she took no qualms against the idea that she was a blind bitch in fear that any retaliation would lead to a string of bat jokes that would continue through the duration of the night. It’d be a shame if she had to leave her own birthday celebration because someone became too caught up in vampire puns. Best to leave that one lie. 

The pop of a champagne bottle and expulsion of the cork garnered enough interest, but Audrey’s eyes widened considerably as she watched a nearby cab as the plug collided with its hood. ❝I think you should get points for that…❞ A moving target and a projectile other than a coin? Whether it had been on purpose or not, Audrey would graciously admit it was impressive. 

What wasn’t impressive, on the other hand, was the state of his patio furniture. Audrey couldn’t be sure if weather or some other force had wreaked havoc on the metal and plastic, but Sawyer’s little demonstration certainly did nothing to further his case. Before he could even give some kind of excuse for the new shape of the chair, Audrey began to cackle. Even as he insisted the chair was fine, she doubled her efforts enough to calm down,  ❝You… you can’t ask everything from a chair? I think you can expect it to actually work. Jesus Christ, Walker.❞ Though not quite dramatic enough to wipe imaginary tears from the corners of her eyes – - Audrey Blake didn’t cry, not ever, not even when some over-confident Bostonian nearly broke his ass trying to prove his point - – she did stand and examine her own chair over a healthy drink of champagne. 

One thing she could appreciate about the situation was that Sawyer was involved – - there wasn’t any need to call it what it wasn’t, and it was a fucking trainwreck. There was also no need to pretend like she was content to sip champagne all night instead of hoping to drain the bottle by sundown, but that came second to her next idea. 

❝Actually… You know what I really want for my birthday, Walker?❞ The toe of his sock tapped against the legs of his chair as she turned to inspect it instead of her own chair – - which remained in better-but-not-great condition.  ❝Let’s get some new chairs.❞ From anyone else, the proposal might’ve come with some sort of dreamy-eyed stipulation that they might eventually move in together and need them. Not from Audrey, though. Everything was back to business, aside from the hand that snaked its way over his shoulder and landed on the back of his neck. ❝It’d be a real pain in the ass if I had to find someone else to fuck just because you were executed by Garden Ridge. The corporate lawsuit alone would be too much for me to deal with.❞

Only problem was the champagne in her glass and what was left in the bottle, ❝Should we finish this… or… I don’t fucking know, do you have flasks or water bottles? This chair situation is dire, Sawyer.❞   

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d say.” Sawyer assured her, nose wrinkling as he gave his head a little but profound shake. “At least ten.” He added, dropping the act just as quickly so as to take claim of points if they were being lied out on a table for the grabbing. 

His furniture was under fire after his integrity, although she’d paused long enough to pay his aim compliment. Wouldn’t be the last time. Regardless, he wasn’t offended. He was still seated & that was a feat in & of itself. He took a celebratory drink of champagne to cement that fact. “Hm?” He asked, looking over. “Well it’s not something I’d ask for on my own birthday,” Sawyer stated as if the fact wasn’t already evident. “But don’t feel compelled-” Sawyer was cut off by Audrey’s new found ability to see into the future. His death imminent evidently. “I know a pretty good lawyer.” Sawyer threw the comment away. “But I mean, if that’s really what you want to do…” Sawyer shrugged. “Oh, no. We’re definitely finishing this first. The flasks are for whiskey.” He could already imagine the champagne bubbling back up on them as soon as they tried to take a sip. Experience bred expertise after all. 

“It’s really not that bad.” Sawyer insisted, taking a peek at the legs of his chair. “Birthday or not, you’re gonna have to pick up the pace.” Sawyer insisted, reaching over to push the glass of champagne closer to her mouth with his pointer finger before reaching for the bottle & pouring a mouthful into his gaping mouth. He swallowed the bubbling pool hard before moving to stand up as soon as Audrey finished her glass. He offered the bottle her way before quickly snatching it back. “May I?” He asked, his own head tilting back, mouth agape in the same way a dentist tended to ask you to say ‘aah’ whilst opening their own mouth. If she complied, he’d pour a meticulously slow mouthful of champagne before taking another swig himself. It was remarkable how little a wine or champagne bottle actually held. “Where are we going anyway? Target is a respectable place right? Does Home Depot sell furniture? No! IKEA. I fucking love IKEA.” Sawyer deadpanned. He was evidently not joking. “Lowkey perfect. New furniture & dinner. Who could argue with that?”

[sawyer-walker-blog]

5, 15, 25, 35, 45

5: How much do you weigh?Roundabout 200? How dare you make me second guess these Hot Cheetos? 

15: Hair Color?Shit’s brown.

25: Turn off?Smacking on food. Just close your mouth for god’s sake.

35: The relationship between you and the person you last texted?Can’t stand Audrey’s bitchass.

45: Wearing any bracelets?A watch.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

6, 9, 4, 20 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I see what you did there.

6: Any tattoos do you want?I’ve got one, it’s terrible, & have no desire for another.

9: Favorite Show?I keep re-watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Or Mad Men. 

4: How tall are you?6'4"

20: Where do you go when you’re sad?Anyplace where there’s dogs honestly. Though I go anywhere with dogs when I’m happy too.

[robert-nash]

[sawyer-walker-blog]

audreyxblake:

❝How do you know I don’t knit already? I’m getting old, Sawyer – - I can remember a time when the only clothes I had were the ones I made.❞ Bullshit, but it would’ve explained her obsession with modern clothing and fashion. If Audrey ever picked up a needle, it was just to hand it off to her boss while he did the work of a milliner and dressmaker. Still, she liked to think she could rattle off enough convincing terms to make anyone think she had been the backbone of the business. Anything to inflate her own ego and make her look like a goddamn saint.

Of all the things he could call her on, Sawyer had picked one statement that was actually true. Whether she forgot her birthday because it had slipped her mind or because she didn’t care wasn’t important. The fact of the matter was that Sawyer could’ve gotten by without doing anything, yet there he was with a bottle of champagne and a stolen ice bucket. Her hero. ❝If I knew it was my birthday, I would’ve texted you at midnight to remind you how blessed you are to have me around.❞ Or she would’ve avoided him like the plague and left the whole display on the patio to meet a very pathetic end. 

Audrey wasted no time in sitting down, one long leg crossing over the other perfectly naturally – - because, y’know, she knew how to sit in a chair - – while delighting in watching him test the wind and dig out change, effectively robbing her of any excuse she might use to justify her missed shots in the future. ❝Lucky us.❞ Without hesitation, she accepted the offered coins and took her place at the railing, watching a few pass by until a mother and two children stopped to observe the trio of pumpkins Sawyer had proudly displayed. She wasn’t stupid enough to ream a kid in front of their mom – - especially not a mother who looked like she would march right to the landlord and demand Sawyer face some kind of punishment - – but Audrey did take aim at the largest of the three and let the nickle fly in one swift motion. 

A miss.

❝God fucking dammit.❞ The only person attracted by the noise of the coin on the pavement was a homeless man, who was about to experience a wave of good fortune if he had the drive to pick up all of the coins they tossed during the course of the evening. Without the wind as an excuse, Audrey had to recalibrate while she collapsed back onto her chair, ❝I’m getting too old, Sawyer – - my eyes are going. Pour me a glass of champagne. I can hardly see the flutes.❞ She shifted then, the effort to dramatically drape her arm over her forehead significantly hindered as the chair beneath her tilted from one side to the other.  ❝Jesus Christ. Do you have any fucking patio furniture that didn’t survive college with you?❞   

Sawyer’s face pulled into something of a grimace. Whether or not he took what she said at face value, seemed to be materializing behind his eyes. Regardless, the joke still stood. Audrey was old as shit. “You right.” Sawyer said with a rhythmic nod. “Should’ve set an alarm.” Sawyer shook his head making a sharp ‘tsk-tsk’ sound with his tongue. “Don’t worry, I could never forget.” He said solemnly into his glass before taking a drink & hiding his eventual smile behind cubes of ice. 

He lowered the glass from his mouth as Audrey’s first toss missed. He gave her a disapproving look but laughed as she cursed. Dragging his chair loudly forward, Sawyer watched with interest as the homeless man on the sidewalk that appeared to not notice the nickels falling from the sky yet. “Shut the fuck up,” Sawyer chuckled, eyes narrowing before downing the rest of his initial drink to catch up so he could go ahead & begin pouring the champagne. “No wonder you fucking missed, ya blind bitch.” Sawyer gave her a toothy grin as he fired the cork away from the porch. It exploded out of the bottle & floated gently to the street before bouncing off the roof of a cab. Sawyer didn’t bother to watch it as he poured & handed Audrey the first of the flutes. 

“What are you talking about?” Sawyer asked, looking down between their chairs sounding slightly offended. “They’re from Garden Ridge or some shit.” Sawyer couldn’t even remember but he bounced in his chair to demonstrate. “Just like new.” The metal under his ass groaned & nervousness struck across Sawyer’s face before he was laughing out loud. “Doesn’t count, I’m a fat ass. You can’t ask everything from a chair. I’ll bend it back it’s fine.” Sawyer assured her, extending the last syllable whilst casting a blatantly fearful look down at the legs of the chair.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

andiehalston:

                  “Ha,” she began, “no you don’t.” A teasing smile curled at her mouth, falling in place with the cadence of her voice, rare among strangers, but a usual occurrence in Sawyer’s company. While Andie was friendly with a lot of people, she only considered a few actual friends; how Sawyer came to fit into the latter category, she couldn’t recall exactly. Perhaps they just wore each other down— a thought she found amusing if nothing else. Curiosity swept light features, replaced by amusement when the abrupt conclusion was offered verbally and executed with a quick hand, the result a perfectly innocent, orange facade of a pumpkin greeting the two and by-passing pedestrians alike. “Good call, Walker.” 

                   She glanced over her shoulder one last time, watching as the pumpkins grew smaller behind the two of them before her attention was reeled back in on the man whose afternoon she intended on occupying. “I knew you would be,” she replied, gaze pinned by his own, however not able to decipher what to make of thinning hazel-brown irises before he inevitably countered with an unexpected reply, garnering an unperturbed laugh from rosy petals. “Frankly,” she repeated, “I’m appalled to find out you have a pair and yet haven’t danced around in them in front of me at any point. That’s how you ruin friendships, you know— withholding ass-less chaps moments. I mean, if I had a pair, I would have definitely showed you already because I… am a really good friend.”

                 “I’m gonna pour liquor into you until you reach that sweet spot where you’ll put on anything I want you to, and that’s your Magic Mike moment, you just wait and see.” A trickle of laughter parted her lips, perhaps mostly from his words than her own. “I don’t know man, definitely thought about the Slutty Ketchup, but I don’t really feel like red’s my colour. Might have to go with the Slutty Mustard, or something else entirely. I could dress up as Tom Brady and see how many fights I can start just by leaving the house.”

“Some things are just too sacred you know? I need to maintain a shred of mystery.” Sawyer chuckled, shaking his head at the sidewalk as they continued down it. “I won’t argue with that I guess; you can borrow mine & follow up. I can only aspire to be as good a friend as you.” Sawyer said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he looked over at Andie, trying to keep his grin measured. “Woah, woah. That doesn’t sound like a ‘really good friend’ kind of scheme.” He pointed an accusatory finger Andie’s way. “That sounds cruel & manipulative. But thank you for the heads up, there will be no plying me with liquor. I don’t need your help.” Sawyer assured her, raising his chin in faux-pride. 

“Any condiment could do.” He pointed out. “You got relish, Sriracha, horseradish.” Sawyer rattled them off, counting them off on his fingers before her next idea had him pause. He considered it, his mouth drawing into a thoughtful frown. “You go as Tom, I’ll go as Gisele & we can just fight everyone in the city. We’ll kick everyone’s ass though, obviously. They’ll be slipping in their own tears. – Over how beautiful I am, not over how shitty the Giants are.”

[sawyer-walker-blog]

nypdalpha:

In his youth, back when he had first joined the force, it was common for him to spend all of his free time either studying or playing hockey - those were things he’d still do even now, running the whole NYPD and it’s 35 thousand cops. Funny enough he had more free time now than he had back then, probable perks of being the big boss. But in this very free day, instead of doing anything else, he found himself sitting in the Central Park, watching his five year old daughter run wild with her friends, while he himself talked to the other mothers. 

It wasn’t a shabby way of spending his saturday for all that mattered and he could still read a book though he kept looking up. Of course when it comes to kids, especially tiny werewolves with alpha genes, taking his eyes off even for a second proved wrong as the moment he looked up again his rebellious infant was leading a riot of others by changing playgrounds. Bolting right from his seat Thaddeus ran off to grab Juno and happened to bump into a stranger, almost tackling them as he managed his daughter with one arm he helped the other person. “I am so sorry.” He scowled at his daughter that he held on his other arm. “Are you hurt?”

What was a grown ass man doing in the park alone? Well he wasn’t alone dammit. There were plenty of others jogging, lying out on the grass or walking dogs. Sawyer was among them, trying to soak up the last vestige of warmth before the cold really settled in over the city. 

He’d woken up early despite his best efforts. Dragging himself from bed, he’d wandered into the kitchen to collect coffee & something edible, watched an episode of Always Sunny that he’d seen a hundred times before lighting up a joint & playing xbox until the idea struck him to venture outside. It had been a short walk & he’d been more than thrilled to see so many others in the mark. Particularly people with dogs that had taken them into the fenced in portion that made up the dog park. Sawyer leaned with his arms folded over the chain link & watched when his stomach began to grumble. He’d been turning to leave when the collision came. “No, no you’re fine,” Sawyer started. He recognized the little girl’s face first & smiled. “This counts as police brutality right?” Sawyer asked, smiling as he gave Thaddeus’ shoulder a rough pat.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

xBOLD WHAT IS TRUE ABOUT YOU ––

I am a morning person.

I am an only child.

I am currently pregnant.

I am left handed.

l am right handed.

I am ambidextrous.

I am a little shy around another gender.

I bite my nails.

I can be paranoid at times.

I enjoy country music.

I enjoy smoothies.

I enjoy talking on the phone.

I have a car.

I have/had a hard time paying attention at school.

I have a hidden talent.

I have a pet.

I have a tendency to fall for the “wrong” person.

I have all my grandparents.

I have been to another country.

I have been told that I have an unusual sense of humor.

I have bathed someone.

I have changed a diaper.

I have changed a lot over the past year.

I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.

I have had major/minor surgery.

I have had my hair cut within the last week.

I have mood swings.

I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.

I have rejected someone before.

I love sleeping.

I love to shop.

I own 100 CDs or more.

I own and use a library card.

I read books for pleasure in my spare time.

I sleep a lot during the day.

I watch soap operas on a regular basis.

I work at a job that I enjoy.

I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.

I am tired.

I have/had:

Finished college.

Smoked cigarettes.

Ridden every ride at an amusement park.

Collected something really stupid.

Gone to a concert.

Helped someone.

Watched four movies in one night.

Been broken up with.

Taken a college level course.

Been in a car accident.

Been in a tornado.

Watched someone die.

Been to a funeral.

Ran a marathon.

Your parents got divorced.

Cried yourself to sleep.

Spent over $200 in one day.

Cheated on someone.

Been cheated on.

Written a 10 page letter.

Have a best friend.

Lost someone you loved.

Skipped school.

Gotten in trouble for something you didn’t do.

Stolen books from the library.

Watched the “Harry Potter” movies.

Fired a gun.

Been in a school play.

Been fired from a job.

Taken a lie detector test.

Swam with dolphins.

Written poetry.

Read more than 20 books a year.

Gone to Europe.

Loved someone you couldn’t have.

Used a colouring book over age 12.

Had surgery.

Had stitches.

Taken a taxi.

Had more than 5 online conversations going at once.

Dyed your hair.

Had something pierced.

Gotten straight A’s.

Been handcuffed.

My hair is naturally the color:

Light brown

Medium brown

Dark brown

Blonde

Black

Dirty blonde

Strawberry blonde

Multicoloured

Red

My eyes are:

Brown

Dark Brown

Blue

Green

Hazel

Light brown

A combination of things

Ice Blue

Grey

People sometimes have labeled me as:

Slut

Girly

Ugly

Nerd

Other 

Some of my biggest fears are:

Spiders/other insects

Slimy things

Dying

Doctor/Dentist appointments

Hospitals

Needles

Diseases

Being alone in the dark

Heights

Small spaces

Oceans/large bodies of water

Holes

Large animals

Small animals

Open spaces

Lightning

Tornadoes

I have:

A friend with benefits

A laptop in my room

A television in my room

Had good grades

My own car 

Married parents

[ellenpagehelps-blog]

Does your muse

[sawyer-walker-blog]

eat pizza bites while they’re hot OR wait for them to cool (he knows better)

come to a complete stop at stop signs OR does a california roll

set their alarm clock for the time they actually will wake up OR set it early and hit snooze a bunch

fall asleep on their phone/laptop OR stop using electronics an hour before bedtime

floss twice a day OR only floss the week before they go to the dentist

hold their jacket in their lap until everyone is boarded OR put it into the overhead compartment right away

run straight into the ocean OR slowly let their body adjust to cold water

run marathons OR marathons TV shows

consider french fries to count as a veggie OR make sure they have something green on their plate

set a timer when cooking OR constantly check and taste until it seems good

[sawyer-walker-blog]

I’ve gotten used to falling in two.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

audreyxblake:

❝Affordable fashion is an oxymoron.❞ She spoke as if she was an authority on the subject, although one would certainly be hard pressed to find someone as obsessed with their appearance as she was. It was all the more endearing – - or perhaps strange - – that she would be caught dead in a black sheath dress and Sawyer’s mismatched socks, but it wasn’t as if they’d be going anywhere other than his patio. 

If she had known what kind of stunt he was going to pull, Audrey might’ve insisted they stay inside while the ice melted and the champagne began to warm. Celebrating her birthday was something she hadn’t done in years, and likely had something to do with her very obvious lack of close friends, but she knew exactly what was happening as soon as the glint of silver attracted her attention. A bottle of champagne to accompany assaulting strangers was perhaps the most thoughtful gift she had ever received, and even Audrey found it difficult to keep from smiling when Sawyer threw in his exclamation of ‘happy birthday!’ as well.

❝Well, Walker…❞ Remaining tight-lipped felt essential, but even that fell by the wayside in due time. Jokes about her age weren’t met with a glare or anything of the sort – - Audrey was downing her liquor through upturned lips in order to prevent either of them from waiting to crack open the new bottle. By the time Sawyer had pulled his sweater off, Audrey was sitting her glass safely out of the way as the pad of her free thumb pushed away any residue left at the corner of her lips.  ❝Forty candles is excessive, isn’t it? But, I guess you’ll find out soon enough.❞ He wasn’t going to get away without a dig at his own age, and the birthday she had forgotten. All at once, Audrey felt something between guilt and appreciation – - the former because of her own inattentiveness, and the latter because of the fact that he took the time to remember an arbitrary date. 

Her gratitude was rarely expressed, but the smile that had fought to keep itself hidden finally broke through the surface,  ❝Thank you.❞

While his reasoning for avoiding a cake was solid, it did force Audrey to do a bit of mental math and contemplation,  ❝But, actually…❞ God, how old was she? Over a hundred, for sure. Beyond that, she had lost count – - birthdays didn’t seem too important after so many had come and gone.  ❝I forgot it was today.❞ 

“We’ll see if I make it that long.“ Sawyer said in too good-naturedly of a fashion to be taken seriously. “You’ll just have to tell me.“ He grinned. “Bones cracking? Sudden urge to visit the Grand Canyon? Maybe do some perusing of the Home Shopping Network? You’re not gonna start knitting are you?“ He asked, his stream of consciousness obviously preoccupied. He’d left out only early bird specials & bingo; they could always be brought up later. 

When Audrey admitted that she’d forgotten, Sawyer wasn’t sure whether or not he believed her. “Bullshit.“ He called her out, then again he was pretty sure if she’d known it was her birthday, his ass would’ve been carrying her up the stairs or forcing him to make some sort of reservations. Alas, he was wearing a sweater without a Boston sports team logo & had gotten a nice bottle of Armand. “Please, have a seat. I got six rolls of nickels from Wells Fargo.” He said, tapping the side of the jar. Those were the heaviest after all. Sliding into the other chair he tipped his glass back & crossed his ankles under his chair.

Sticking his index finger in his mouth, he pulled it back out & held it into the cool autumn air to test the wind. If there was any, it wouldn’t have been felt unless it was blowing straight towards them. “This should mean no misses.” He said, digging his hand into the coin jar & handing Audrey a mixed trio before dipping his hand back in for his own small handful of silver & copper. “Birthday girl goes first.”

[sawyer-walker-blog]

blackrvose:

The day only starts after a cup of coffee and the line that she is in right now, seems to agree. Dozens of people line in a zombie-like manner, all hazy eyes and bitten lips, before they reach the barista and, finally, they place their order. It’s almost magical, almost sad, how, everyday, people line up and wait for their shot of happiness, the only thing that can get them through the day. Camila considers turning around and leave, rebel against the system and power through the day with nothing but her will and love for her profession. Of course, those thoughts only last for a split second, interrupted by the line moving and the smile plastered on the barista’s face. “What can I get you?”, they ask, all teeth.

“Mocha Latte, please.” And when the coffee, hot and still bubbling, lands on her hands, she follows the same ritual as everyone else: the gloomy day suddenly feels so much better. That is, until she bumps into a shapeless figure and the latte scalds against her bare skin and stains her dress in an ugly pattern. A gasp leaves her mouth, now open, hands thrown in the air. “Sh-” she begins, shaking her head and watching her language “-iiiisticks.” She mumbles, finally taking in the figure standing in front of her, unscatted. “Great, just great.”

“Shit.“ Sawyer’s exclamation completed the stranger’s even before she could rectify her curse. No such moral dilemma existed for the man with a new brown stain running down his jacket. Taking a quick step backwards did nothing, the collision had already transpired. He’d been fast enough to throw his arm, that held a full americano, out away from both of their bodies but that only resulted in scalding hot water splashing over his thumb. It was a miracle he was still holding onto his cup. “You okay?“ He asked, taking in the damage to her dress then to his own person. “Jesus fucking Christ, that is burning.” Sawyer’s voice was measured as he finally took notice of his irritated hand. Stepping out of the way of the foot traffic, he set his cup on the condiment bar & grabbed a fistful of napkins, offering half to the other party involved.

[sawyer-walker-blog]

This was a home once.

[junhoegif]