Best Believe

Travis Hardy - 36 - Firefighter - Super Strength I rambled with the worst of them Fell in love with a harlequin Saw the darkest hearts of men And I saw myself starin' back again

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

"You’re too kind," she smiles at him. Too polite, is more like it. Not anyone who would hire her services and she doesn’t push it any more than that. There are different levels of people on the morality scale and she thinks he’s near the top, based on the the way he’s showing common courtesy and his chosen profession. Someone who would buy her a drink, but would never think to put a monetary value on her body. Almost a shame. He was cute. 

There’s a small chuckle at the idea that he gets called out to put out kitchen fires. Burnt turkeys and ham left in the oven for too long. Val’s never been a cook herself. On the holidays the most she does is go to Boston Market to get a turkey dinner for herself. On New Years, she was face deep in a pile of blow and spent most of the night dancing and sleeping with anyone at the party she’d been hired to service. It had been a good night, but mostly because she’d been blasted for the majority of it. 

"Well, a burnt turkey could be worse, I guess," she says, smiling at him because at least it’s not something huge. No arsonists on the loose, though she doesn’t know if she’d even be aware if there was. She doesn’t really watch the news except for snippets she catches here and there. 

[travis-hardy]

Travis just gives a light shrug of his shoulders, grateful the holiday season is over. While he does love the holiday with his family, it's nice to pretend his profession is less stressful without the added hassle of deep fried turkey fires and people standing too close to the multitude of Christmas scented lit candles. Along with all the fires started because relatives just seem to plain hate each other. And while the season should be spent being thankful, it's mostly everyone pushing each other in malls and a constant sour expression upon their face.

"Got a New Year's resolution then?" Travis asks after a long gulp of beer, the liquid cold as it travels down his throat. And if his own had been to drink less, he's already failing. Luckily, he hadn't set one.

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

At this point in her life, rejection doesn’t really effect her. It doesn’t phase her and she nods her head, just accepting. She’s not one to push. At least not when she’s not strapped for cash. She could push in a different way. Make him want her in ways he didn’t know he’d wanted anything before. The same way a person would crave a drug after tasting it for the first time. “Fair enough,” she says, taking a sip of the drink in front of her. “But you’d have a good time, if you ever change your mind.” 

She’s ready for their conversation to end there. Reject and turn away, is what most people do because as soon as they find out, she becomes less of a person to them. She becomes someone they’re embarrassed to be around, an object and someone they wouldn’t make eye contact with. Like people who pass by a homeless person on the street and disregard them as just part of the landscape. That’s how people look at her sometimes. 

So it surprises her when he asks what she’s doing out here. She looks up at him and if there’s a grateful look on her face, it’s nothing she’s conscious of. “It’s a slow time of year, after the holidays,” she tells him. “People’s stamina isn’t what it usually is. Neither are their wallets.” 

[travis-hardy]

"You're lovely, Val," he remarks kindly with a sure nod of his head, bringing his drink back to his lips as he leans back on the stool, "I don't doubt it." It still isn't enough to tempt him. Paying for sex had never been his style, but it's something he'd never given much thought to. Growing up in Vegas had numbed him to all manner of sins. Gambling, addiction, hookers. Those things had always been everywhere. And, if anything, he's more grateful she calls herself an escort, because he thinks the money is better and it's probably safer for her. He hopes. Then again, she's here to meet clients in a run down bar.

Travis laughs at her description of the lull after the holidays and he nods in agreement as he drains his beer and waves over the bartender for another. He's already throwing the cash down before his glass is even taken away. "All those damn turkey dinners and gifts. People are too fat and too broke to afford anything," he mockingly scolds the human race for their greed and gluttony. But the family dinner had always been his favorite part of Christmas.

"Bit of a lull in every profession I think. Lots of fires during the holiday season. Too many people think the miracle of Christmas means they're chefs," he jokes, sending a smile to the bartender in thanks as he mutters his gratitude and takes a sip of the fresh beer.

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

"You’re a firefighter?" she asks, perking up at the idea of it. She leans against the bar, turning more to face him than she had been before. That’s interesting. She’s been with a lot of different clients, mostly businessmen or blue collar workers. One time it had been an off duty cop and she’d nearly had a heart attack when she found that out, before she’d remembered it was a legal business now. He’d pulled his badge out and everything. But she’d never been with a firefighter. 

"Does it sound bad if I say that’s hot?” she asks, smiling as though she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. To her, maybe it was. He asks what she does and she takes a breath because there’s still a part of her that doesn’t want to tell him the truth. That just wants to be able to take the drink, say thank you and talk to him for the rest of the night as he unwinds. 

"Escort," she says before she can even entertain the idea for a moment longer. She keeps herself distanced for a reason. She’s not going to give it up just because of a drink he paid for. "You’re not looking for a good night, are you?" 

[travis-hardy]

There's a silent laugh that jerks Travis's shoulders, a smile upon his lips as he nods. It's a typical response, especially with women. And if it's slight over-confident, he doesn't much care that he frequently grants that reaction from women, some of them just plain hitting on him instead of simply making a joke. And why wouldn't they? He's a decent looking guy and Eileen always scoffed that he could charm the pants off of anybody. Shit, he had on numerous occasions.

But there's a real offer that he could charm the pants off of her, or pay for it at least. And while his smile remains on his face, polite as always, Travis thinks he wouldn't. She's a beautiful girl, he wouldn't deny that. And if that's the profession she's chosen, then he wouldn't fault her for it. Because if he could judge her simply upon her job, then he deserves to be judged for all the things he'd done in his life, the reason his brother's dead.

"'Fraid I'll have to pass," he replies kindly, a small laugh following the words. He'd never been much for escorts or prostitutes. Or even strippers. Perhaps that's because he never had much of a problem finding someone to go home with.

But he doesn't want to end the conversation, because Val's nice, having some kind of personality which is sometimes rare in women at bars these days it would seem. "What brought you here then if this isn't your usual hunting grounds? If ya don't mind me askin'."

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

She laughs lightly at what he toasts to. It’s not something she thinks about with any great depth, the world ending. Mostly because she thinks that would be a cheap way for anything divine to take any of them out. Too quick, too nice, fading to black would be too merciful. She wasn’t someone who thought she’d live to see old age, but she didn’t think she’d be going any time soon. At least not today, which is all she was concerned about for the moment. 

He introduces himself and she takes his hand just as easily as the smile that comes to her face. “Val,” she tells him. There’s a joke that usually accompanies the name when she gives it, something about Trixie or Cherry being more accustom for the profession she’s made for herself. But it doesn’t come this time because she hasn’t propositioned him yet. There’s a battle warring in her that she would like to make some money, but she’s also just enjoying that someone bought her a drink. She doesn’t get embarrassed about what she does, but she thinks he might frown on it, given how polite he’s been so far. 

"I don’t usually work this area," she goes for the safer route instead. Offering him the chance to make his own conclusion about what that means. Maybe he’ll piece it together, between working areas and the clothes she’s wearing, maybe he’ll assume what she does for a profession and then it’ll be up to him whether he wants to ask her about it. She doesn’t offer that to most people. Most people she would have just come out and asked them if they wanted to start off their new year with a bang. 

[travis-hardy]

Travis shakes her head slowly, a small smile upon his face as he withdraws his hand from hers. "Nice to meet you," he replies automatically, but it doesn't make the gesture cold. He had these civilities hammered into his head by his mother and, mostly, Eileen, but he agrees with them, thinks politeness is the way to go until someone proves they don't deserve the respect. Until then, he's kind to every soul he meets.

Taking a sip of his beer, Travis mulls over what profession she could have that doesn't bring her to this area often. Maybe she travels for a living. Or she works in districts. Cop, but she doesn't look like she'd be one to fix herself into a uniform. And given her attire, although he hates to assume, he can't help but think this is Sin City after all.

"I hear that," he replies with a short laugh. "I'm a firefighter. Don't do much workin' in one space." There's another laugh then, something to break some tension that usually comes with the words. No one ever reacts negatively to his job, but some people feel the need to thank him for some sort of service or gasp at the dangerous aspect of his profession. And while he accepts this graciously, they're always awkward.

Inclining his head towards her, Travis holds his pint glass to his lips, "What do ya do?"

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

Val smiles at the joke, giving him a look to show what she thinks of it, but she can tell by the look on his face he feels the same way. It had been a terrible greeting on her part, but sometimes she just needed to get a feel for a person before she asked them if they wanted to go somewhere more private. “Cute,” she tells him. This was the part she wasn’t very good at. The just chatting people up before she makes a proposition. 

The bartender saves her from it in the next moment when he brings over the drink and she’s already digging in her purse when the man next to her throws a few dollars on the bar before she can. She looks up at him, the surprise overshadowed by something more like intrigue as to whether or not he’s  just a polite man or if she’s snagged him yet. Maybe she has her toes in the water, but sometimes that’s all she really needs. And if not, she could always intrigue him in ways that were less fair. Pheromones, but she didn’t know if she was that desperate yet. 

"Thank you," she tells him genuinely. She picks up the glass, holding it out to him in a toast. "To 2015?" she asks, prompting him to either accept the toast or make a better one of his own. 

[travis-hardy]

There's a light shrug of Travis's shoulders when the woman calls his comment cute, a certain smugness to the gesture and expression upon his face like he's fully aware just how cheeky he can be. And he is. It's something natural to him, some easygoing trait he had forgotten when his brother wanted more of his ability to use and he had spiraled into something more beast than man. But Eileen pulled him out of that hole, smacked him upside the head, and picked out the stitches of his brother's death until something more familiar remained.

He nods his head once and inclines his hand towards the drink, dashing away her gratitude even if he appreciates the simple words. It's the polite thing to do. And while Travis isn't rolling in cash, the lack of a significant other and any kids provides him with a bit more income to spend on what he wishes. And if he can toss a few bucks towards a woman's drink then he will.

There's a smile at her toast before he's grabbing up his own glass, holding out towards her as he mulls over something to add. "To the next lunatic hollerin' 'bout the world ending this year," Travis states with a smirk before clinking his glass gently against her own before he takes a small sip, a part of him very much aware he's in the presence of a lady and probably shouldn't just chug down his beer to wash away to weariness of the day.

Placing the pint glass back down upon the table, the dull thud echoing in his ears for a moment, he holds out his right hand towards the woman. "Travis."

[addicted-to-moss-blog]

Business had been slow after the New Years. It was customary, happened each year. People blew all their money for their New Years party, or needed to regain stamina before they hired her service again. She had less people trying to hire her through her boss and did better just finding someone on the sidewalk who wanted to be spontaneous. It was her least favorite aspect of the job because it was the most dangerous. Where people didn’t need to leave a name and number. 

Tonight, she’s not finding many clients and she makes her way into the bar to take a little break from the effort. She’d made a killing New Years Eve, so buying herself a drink here and there wasn’t anything she had to worry about. 

Sidling up to the bar, she caught the bartenders attention and ordered a quick cranberry and vodka. As she waited for her drink, she turned to look at the man next to her. Cute. Stressed looking, maybe contemplative. She leaned forward to maybe attract his attention. “Long day?” she asked. 

[travis-hardy]

There's a flicker of movement, something that easily catches Travis's attention. A woman, and he can hear Eileen's voice slapping at the back of his scalp that he's always distracted by women. And while he'd admit, even to her, that she's a pretty girl, it isn't why he looks up at her. She initiates a conversation and perhaps he's too tired and too polite to tell her he'd rather be left alone for the evening.

Travis's lips form to a crooked grin as he nods his head a few times, folding his hands atop the bar, to keep them away from the buzz cut, as he leans forward. "You could say that," he replies, bright smile still gracing his features and it's an expression that always got him in trouble with Eileen. She had always come so close to buying into it. On rare occasions, she had.

"Longest day of the new year," he remarks, a poor joke considering everyone makes lame comments about each new year when it begins. But he's aware of it. The bartender returns with a bright red drink he sets in front of the lady, prompting Travis to quickly snatch his wallet from his back pocket and lay down a few bills as payment for the drink. His mother had always taught him to be polite. And while she had taught him to pull out chairs and hold doors, buy dinners and drinks, university students taught him where those bought drinks lead to, something he doesn't have much intention on tonight.

[travis-hardy]

It had been a long day at work. Two fires. A handful of smoke alarms and irresponsible college students struggling to cook a simple pot of mac and cheese. It's funny after they get back to the station, but each call pumps adrenaline through Travis's veins. Each time that siren whirls through the halls, he sometimes wonders if it'll be the last time he hears it. So far, it hasn't been.

He sips at his beer, requesting whatever they had on tap with little care for the brand so long as his brain faintly buzzes inside his skull by the time he leaves. One pint. Maybe two. Then he'd be gone. Customary on tiresome days.

Dragging a heavy palm down his face, he wipes the weariness embedding lines into his skin and wonders when the last time he called Eileen was. Christmas seems like ages ago.

[proudcoiler88]

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