the madam is probably smarter then you. former military man, adam douglas. retired killer professional weed mansion designer semi-professional sibling wrangler did we say madam we meant maDAMN "damn madam" - his squad, probably.
“Then I guess some of the people in this bar are more cockroach than human, by the way they’re throwing back this stuff,” Peyton replies, playing along. She wonders if drinking horrible quality beer is some sort of a mark of honor for the men around here; the stronger you are, the more shit you’ll be able to handle. The logic is backwards, but she can’t judge. Her social circle has done weirder and worse shit. Her lips purse into a closed mouth grin at his less than apologetic tone. “Laugh at me all you like; I’m a big girl, I’m not scared of grit and grime,” she says. “Plus, I think she said something about there being foosball tables in the back. I can’t deny a chance for kicking someone’s ass at foosball.”
Hellishly expensive? isn’t really an issue for her. Peyton nods and raps her manicured nails on the sticky bar to get the bartender’s attention. She can see the shock and mockery on his face as he looks her up and down. Her other hand fishes in her purse and pulls out a couple crisp twenties. “Your best bottle of scotch?” she asks, cocking her head with a smirk as he takes the twenties. “and two glasses, please.”
“Out all night to get ‘grunged’”, she repeats, a note of mirth in her tone. “I’ve never heard that phrase before, but funnily enough, I sort of get what you mean. This seems like the sort of place time forgets and where people can forget time exists.” And by the looks of it, some of the people in this bar had forgotten to go home for so long they’d almost grown into the chairs they sat in.
The bartender returns with the bottle and glasses, and Peyton pours the scotch out for the both of them. She clinks drinks with him. “Peyton,” she says over the rim of her glass. “to a ‘grunged’ night, as you say.”
“Fair enough - pretty sure if we turned the lights on, half of them would scatter into the cracks in the floor.” Adam replies, shaking his head as he casts a glance at the seedy-looking patrons yet again. “Decent enough crowd though for tonight. At least no one’s covered in blood.”
He can’t help but admire the way she handles the barman - even though it’s a little obvious that it’s not an unfamiliar situation for her. His pride stings a little, but he scolds it thoroughly. It’s not like people haven’t bought him drinks before after all. He can’t deny the little twist in his gut as he picks up the glass she’s poured, glancing at the bartender who looks lost with so much money in his hands. Adam offers him a silent nod of acknowledgement - an ‘I feel you’, if ever there was one.
Turning his attention back to his companion.Adam clinks his drink with her, humour dancing in his eyes. “I was going to say, ‘let me buy you a drink’, but I can’t deny I’m happy with how this turned out. To a grunged night, and many more to come, Peyton” He says, toasting her, and drinks with relish. This could be a hell of a night, or it could be the start of good things to come - her wallet, his occasional drinking, it honestly could be a match made in heaven. For now, he’ll just enjoy the company.
“You mentioned something about foosball before?” Adam questions after taking another relished sip of scotch. The amount of money she’d paid for it would’ve probably clothed one of the Douglas’ completely, he thinks with a wry half-smile, nursing the glass. “Because I don’t know if you could handle a real game of foosball.” He throws the challenge at her, before hiding his grin behind the depths of his drink. He enjoys a sip of the fine luxury within the glass, enjoying the slow burn even more as the challenge lingers between them.
Peyton pulls a small face with Adam, wrinkling her nose with a slight laugh. “Honestly? I’m here for something new,” she admits. “so I suppose my answer is all three.” She pats the ceiling dust off the empty bar stool next to him and gingerly takes a seat on the ripped upholstery. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone but I think she’s late–”
Her pocket buzzes, and she pulls out her iPhone to check her phone – a text from Rachel: Got reeled into taking someone else’s shift. Have a drink for me! Peyton quickly types a reply (No worries, take care!) and returns her attention to the person before her. “–or decided to work another shift. She’s a regular here.”
Now, she might be the most noticeably out of place person for this bar, but she certainly wasn’t the brightest spot in the room. Not in comparison to the man in the neon yellow vest in front of her. The fact that he’s still wearing that, even after a shift, amuses her. Perhaps it’s because of her upbringing, but she always blindly assumed construction workers didn’t wear home their work stuffs. “What are you here for?” she inquires after a few beats of silence, glancing between him and the liquor stacked on shelves behind the bar. “atmosphere or company? If the drinks are cockroach’d.”
Ah, but what’s a drink in a seedy place like this for, but to get your cockroach intake for the month in a mouthful?” Adam asks, taking another pull from the bottle. Hey, it might be disgusting, but he’s paid money for this. His pride demands nothing less then that he finish this bottle off. “So, you were up for someplace new, and your friend suggested... here. Wow. I don’t know whether to feel a little bit sorry for you, or to laugh.” Adam turns to face the woman a little more, hand loose on the bottle as he sets it down on the counter. He can’t quite hide the amusement in his voice though, and his condolences lack the appropriate amount of sympathy.
He leans a little towards the woman, speaking low. “Don’t spread it around, but I’ve heard that the high-end stuff’s a little bit less cockroached. Hellishly expensive though - which is saying something, given the wallets around here.” Adam shrugs. His fingers curl around the bottle, and he brings it towards his lips, though he pauses as he glances behind them.
“Atmosphere or company huh? Well...Good question.” Adam thinks it over for a minute. Honestly, why did he come to this place? Maybe it was just to get away from the house. Have a place where he could feel a little freer, a little less like Adam. Be a little distracted. Helped that it was close to work too. “... Atmosphere, maybe. The shaking ceiling and the plaster dust is a nice touch to the whole ‘we’re out all night to get grunged’ feel they’ve got going on. Though, the company I’m with at the moment is nice enough too.” Adam grins. “I’m Adam, by the way.”
An exposed lightbulb precariously strung above her head. Linoleum peeling off the floor. Harsh footsteps from above shaking loose concrete from the ceiling. Not exactly the scene she’s used to, but she’s… open to it. Her only problem is that she couldn’t get changed after work, and is welcoming stares in her crisp white button down and navy trousers.
She sidles up to the bar, finding the least threatening person to talk to. ❝You wouldn’t happen to know what’s good here, do you?❞
Adam’s nursing his second beer- though, admittedly, a second drink in this place is probably equivalent to a first with how watered down it tastes. He pulls a face as he sips, refusing to waste the money (he can understand why it was so cheap now, honestly) and shifts his weight.. His work gear feels covered in grime - another day of lifting, of carrying, of mindless menial labour. Nothing he’s not used to from the army, but it’s still so... boring.
Adam’s gaze swivels to the speaker beside him - and honestly, a woman dressed in a bridal gown singing the Macarena on top of the pool table couldn’t have been more out of place then this woman. The clothes, to put it plain and simple, scream money. Or, at least, more money then the usual population of this bar are used to seeing. He raises his glass, a wry smile emerging as he speaks.
“Well, for a couple of bucks, you too could be drinking beer that tastes like a cockroach’s behind.” He pulls a face for effect, before shrugging. “But, it depends on what you feel like, I guess. Are you here for the drinks, the atmosphere or the illustrious company?” Adam gestures to the general population, travelling from workers to potential gang members with a raised eyebrow at the woman.
Cam calls him while he’s at school, a Tuesday like any other. It’s a rare event, to be sure – usually she’d wait until he came home for the weekend before ripping into him. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for impact. Bomb specialist teams have nothing on the finely tuned ball of sisterly indignation that qualified as Cam when she was pissed. Adam pushes the call button, nestling the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he spins the chair around.
“Cam?” Adam asks, and his roommate glances at him over the top of a trashy novel better suited to a stifled housewife then a seventeen year old boy. Adam waves a hand in dismissal. Kyle pulls a face in response. “What’s up?”
Her voice is flat as she replies, and Adam hears crying in the background. The twins, he assumes as one shrill voice screams and another rises, drowning out Cam. She’s probably ignoring them, Adam assumes as he shakes his head.
“Cam, can you repeat what you said? Mattie or Nate are a bit loud – are you punishing them for something? Because I think there’s limit’s to what-“
“Mum’s gone.”
Adam pauses mid-sentence, startled. Disbelief creeps into his voice as he stands up suddenly.
“What?”
Kyle throws a pillow at him, which catches Adam square in the face, and gives Adam a querying look. Adam flaps a hand at him. Not now, he mouths, and Kyle gives him a patented KyleTM look. Adam gives him the finger in return. Adam turns his attention back to the phone, running a hand through his hair.
“Cam, Mum’s left the house plenty of times okay? She always comes back tho- wait. Was this a joke? Was it? Ha, ha, very funny Cam. Really had me going.”
Adam deflects Kyle’s final pillow as it’s thrown, snorting as the disgruntled roomie shakes his novel at him.
“Look I’ve got to go, okay? Nice try though Cam. Nearly had me.” Cam’s protests are cut short as Adam hits the end call button, shoving the phone back into his back pocket with more thoughts about how to get his roommate back on his mind then Cam’s ‘joke’.
He’s in Lachlan’s room when the twins call next, annihilating his poor makeout partner at Call of Duty with much boyish boasting, and flirtatious grinning. Adam’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and Lachlan cheers as the distraction leaves Adam open to a headshot.
“Very classy Anderson,” Adam retorts, setting his controller aside as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. The ‘Game Over’ screen flashes mockingly at him as he checks the ID. Cam’s phone. Huh. “I’m sure you’ll go very far in life.” He bats away Lachlan’s suddenly unoccupied hands as the older student grins impishly. Not now, he mouths, and Lachlan pouts mockingly.
“Hello? Cam? Something wrong?” Soft hiccups and whimpers greet him, and for a terrifying, heart stopping moment, Adam thinks that something must have happened. Cam crying? World ending, plain and simple.
Lachlan senses a change in the atmosphere, and sits up with questions in his eyes. Adam shakes his head. “Cam?”
He suddenly goes deaf in an ear as twin voices wail into his ear, recoiling from the volume. Holding the phone away from him, he stares at it in disbelief. Lachlan gives him a look. Adam flaps a hand at him, before tentatively putting the phone back to his ear.
“Mattie? Nate? Why do you have Cam’s phone?” Adam pauses, a thought occurring to him. “… Does Cam know you have her phone?”
“Adam-“
“Mum-“
The voices are barely distinguishable from the other, and Adam struggles for a second identifying which one is which. Mum must have done something to get them riled up, he thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sits up. Adam sighs. “Tell me what’s wrong guys.”
A hiccup that Adam assumes is Mattie trails off as the phone is passed from one twin to the other. Nate babbles for a moment - Adam has to refrain from telling him to stop speaking nonsense – before the reason comes out.
“Mum’s g-g-gone, Adam, and C-C-Cam says sh-she’s not coming back!”
Oh for- this was taking the joke too far Cam. The tiny twins wail again, and Adam shakes his head with a look at Lachlan. Lachlan shrugs. Adam waits until they pause for breath, pushing himself up off the floor and paces in time to soothing the twins.
Cam was being silly, of course Mum’s not gone guys. Mum always comes back doesn’t she? When hasn’t she? Would I lie to you guys? Of course not. No, I’m sure you guys haven’t been bad – no, she wouldn’t do that- you guys are good, okay? You’re very, very good.
He soothes them with platitudes the best he can, worrying his lip as he listens. It takes a while (takes a long while), but finally the twins seem to calm down. Someone scolds them just before he hangs up (Caleb, he thinks), but Adam simply shakes his head at the result.
Lachlan tips his head, looking up at him. “Problem?”
Adam rolls his eyes. “Family’s a bunch of loons.” He admits, nudging him with a foot as he dials their mum distractedly.
“Low blow Anderson. Look, you even hurt my very manly feelings.” Adam presses the phone to his ear, lips pursed. He taps his foot as It rings, rings, rings out. Maybe she couldn’t hear the phone, he hopes trying her once more as Lachlan prods at him.
“Oi,” Adam hisses. The phone rings out again, and Adam looks at it with a frown. Alright – he’d admit that was a bit odd. But still, it had to be Cam overreacting, or a joke or something. Maybe Cam and Mum had had a fight.
He shakes his head, allows Lachlan to pull him back down. He’ll find out on the weekend, he supposes. It had to be a joke. Right?
once upon a time, their family wasn’t as fucked up as their mum ended up making it, and adam can remember it vividly. it’s probably one of the reasons he hates their mother so damn much. he can remember a time before. he can remember helicopter throws and their mum smiling, and bedtime cheek kisses.
he can remember his first day of school. he can remember their dad taking the morning off from work, and their mother cradling a gurgling, spit bubble-blowing cam as she doublechecked his backpack, and rearranged his jumper. his little heart bursting with pride as she called him “her little soldier” and brushed his hair back from his face. the pair of them walking him to school, cam tucked into her stroller, adam holding his mum’s hand with trepidation as the gates loomed ever closer, ever closer. he remembers crying because the thought of his mum not coming in with him scared him more then the actual thought of school itself. cam fucking giggle-gurgled away as he threw a tantrum, stopping only when his mum promised he’d see her at home when he was finished for the day.
she broke that promise twelve years later though.
☾ - sleep headcanon
adam sleeps lightly, a habit he developed in afghanistan. he has this bad habit of falling asleep at the kitchen table, with his arms crossed and his head lolling forwards. he snores lightly when he’s overtired (which is always) and when he does actually sleep like a normal person, it’s usually on the floor with one of the couch pillows for his head. no different to back in the army. sometimes he has night terrors that make him afraid to sleep again.
he drools a bit too.
☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon
likes - dogs, bacon, coffee, honest to goodness smiles, ratty jeans that belong in the nineties, music that he can hear the words to, the truth, his siblings, mathematical formulas and tactical maneuvers. also call of duty.
dislikes - mice, the bitch, the betrayal, seafood, sand in the wrong places, being lied to, cold nights, people that hurt his siblings, feeling guilty about having a life outside of the family.
★ - sad headcanon
after adam came home from school post-mum leaving and found out she was gone for good, he went into the photo albums and carefully and methodically ripped her out of half a dozen photos before cam could stop him.
all of the photos that adam took to afghanistan were of his family.
extracts from file: major corporal adam m. douglas (aka "madam")
status: normal service leave
enlisted at twenty after completing two years in a military engineering course, and a year prior to that at a well-renowned military school.
known by his unit in Afghanistan teasingly as "madam", corporal douglas conducted himself in accordance to the standards expected of proper military personnel in sensitive situations.
received the nickname/call sign for his efficiency at distributing orders ("like a madam allocating girls in a brothel" "madam?" "madamn.").
also because he had a knack at giving them disparaging looks that reminded them of the madams of the brothels they frequented sometimes when on leave.
had corporal douglas opted to continue serving in the military rather then taking leave, his character and conduct could have seen him promoted into a high-ranking officer position later in his service. his role as the unit's marksman and military engineer showed a remarkable dedication to committing to his role and performing the tasks allocated to his squad efficiently.
suffered significant losses to his unit during a routine supply run, where corporal douglas' unit was providing protection detail. many members of his unit were hit by shrapnel from a roadside bomb, with one man dying from shrapnel-related wounds before treatment could be administered.
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