open / @oathofmiami-starters
IT WAS GOD KNOWS WHAT time but if the blackness outside was any indicator, Easton would hazard a guess that it was definitely past midnight. Similar to most of his nights nowadays, the hitman had found himself in a bar, throwing back drinks as if tomorrow was nothing more than a mere illusion. It would be an accurate assumption to say that Easton lived his life without a single care in the world: a man who did what he wanted, when he wanted, exactly how he wanted to. He’d never been one to air on the side of caution, instead opting to throw it to the wind and damn the repercussions. Perhaps it was the possibility of danger that thrilled him so much or maybe it was simply due to the little consideration he paid toward himself. Either way, the male perpetually sought after anything that made him feel alive. Therefore, in true Easton fashion, he’d wound up in a scuffle; swinging a few punches, taking a few blows. Then, to his utter dismay, he found himself turfed out and aimlessly wandering until he passed by the diner.
By now, he’d been occupying the booth for quite some time. Tucked away in the corner, secluded in his own space and time, he nursed a steaming hot cup of coffee. The splashes of blue and purple decorating his battered knuckles were tender, his ribcage hurt like a mother and the gash along his cheekbone stung like a bitch. If he was honest, he felt as if he’d been mowed down by a bulldozer. Repeatedly. Sure, he looked like shit on a stick, but you should see the other guy. The shadowy figure passing the edge of his eye captured Easton’s attention then, rousing him from his thoughts. With calloused fingers wrapped around the mug, dark eyes turned on the other. “ Do you plan on sitting down? Or are you gonna stand there, hovering like a halfwit? ” Admittedly, his tone held more bite than he’d intended but, in his defence, he was feeling a little worse for wear. Plus, he seriously wasn’t in the mood to put up with another idiot.
Walking into the diner, Sofia’s path led her toward the bar to pick up hers and Vanessa’s to-go order. Many times before this, the single mother had a light grin on her features and her eyes shined with hope and hunger. Now, she was aggressively hungover, depressed to a tee, and no glimmer of confidence leaped from her dark hues. When the waitress told the Serpent soldier to wait a little longer for her food, she nodded in agreement before looking around the building. In search of an open table, her gaze froze on a familiar figure hidden in the corner of the restaurant. In a matter of moments, her feet lead her toward the fellow gang member, and once she got a good look of him, his attractive yet rugged face wrote concern throughout her features. “Buenos días a ti también, Easton,” The drug dealer told him before taking a seat across from him. Ignoring how unattractive she looked, she took off her sunglasses and let her worried orbs run over his beat-up look. “What happened to you? Don’t tell me this was just a normal night out in the city for you.”
