Double the Trouble

@wesandlachthings

Two brothers? In one blog? What could go wrong? (RP BLOG! 18+ ACCOUNTS ONLY!)

67 posts

Prepare for trouble, and make it double!

Two men sit at a bar, both of them laughing. About what is a little unclear, but the wide smiles on both of their faces are contagious.

"Aww man, I've missed you, dude." Says one of the men, giving the other a hardy pay on the back. He looks older, with some grey patches showing up in his reddish brown beard.

"Missed you too." Says the younger looking of the two. His bleach blonde hair differs from the other, but he still has that same reddish brown beard as him. "So, how's the comedy thing going?"

"Aha, uh... about that..."

"Uh oh."

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

wesandlachthings

Against his better judgement, Lach lets Hannah drag him into the suspicious alley. Swallowing down what he had left in his mouth, he waits in bated breath as he hears the bartender they pissed off give up. Yep, he can't perform here again, that was a given.

Not too long ago, he was at home, in his bed. Now he's drunk, in an awful smelling alley, hiding from angry staff, with... Well, at least it was with Hannah. One of the few good things about tonight. Was her smile always this pretty?

Even though he kinda had the right to be mad at her, he couldn't. Not when she's smiling up at him after such a ridiculous situation. Fuck this was so dumb.

"I guess so, yeah." The good news was that they weren't in jail.

"So... Want to get out of the trash and back to mine?" He asks, pretty sure that he was squatting right next to a bag of rotting meatballs. Plus, he wouldn't doubt that Hannah would probably not want to be out for too long in the dead if night.

#shot through the heart (hannah)#lachlan #threads

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

perfectly-intoxicated

A victorious grin spreads onto her face followed by an accomplished laugh as he takes another swig of the drunk, pride shining where mischief would usually be in her eyes. One fact solidified in concrete about her: she loved being right. "Told you. I'm bursting with hidden talents."

Wouldn't that be something? A change of career and life for a night. Maybe if her life didn't go the way it did, she would be doing this for a living. Paid just about a little more than your average wage, living in some apartment nearby and falling into comfortable routines. In some world, maybe she would've liked it.

In this one though, it sounded like a cage to circle around in endlessly.

"You're speaking my kind of language." Hannah grabs the bottles and starts putting them back in their respective places, like the good unofficial bartender she was. Better than the other guy, at least. “As long as I get the best seat in the house.”

wesandlachthings

"Oh, of course. Front and center. I'll even dedicate my whole setlist to you." And the thing was, he wasn't even exaggerating. If she truly wanted, he'd invite her in a heartbeat. Learn some of her favorites and make sure he'd play them just right.

It was weird, wanting Hannah in his life like this. She was so... Ambitious. An attitude that said that it was her way or the highway. He didn't even really know her all too well, but he wanted to. If he was allowed to.

"... I feel like we've been talking about myself a ton so far." He says after a moment of silence. "How about you? What've you been up to?" Now it's Lach's turn to rest his head in his hand. And maybe he makes doe eyes at her. Intentional or not... That was his little secret.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Wouldn’t that be an honor?” Hannah could see it already. If he dedicated that song to her with those stupidly genuine doe eyes of his on that first night, she’d imagine having a whole set list would rot her never-ending sweet tooth.

Her hand brings the glass to her lips, ready to take another swig of her boss battle of a drink before Lach surprises her another time. Huh. How does she describe what she’s been doing without simultaneously convincing him to call the cops on her?

“Well… nothing much. Work is a pain in the ass sometimes, but that comes with any job.” Especially today’s job. She doesn’t just drink like this any and every day of the week — she was no drunk. “I promise, this isn’t the regular. I’m a very responsible, law-abiding citizen. As you can tell.”

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. And speaking of being a law abiding citizen, you might wanna get out from behind the bar before Mr. Relationship Problems comes back." He says, taking a sip of his cocktail.

This has felt surprisingly lucky on their part. The last thing they needed was for their luck to run out. Or, in the worst case, the cops pulling up.

"Anything specifically that pissed you off today, or is it just an all encompassing pile of shit that made you drink this much?" If he had to take a guess, he'd go with the latter of the two. You don't do all this just because your boss yelled at you once or twice.

perfectly-intoxicated

"What's he gonna do, yell at me for cleaning up his station and making better cocktails? He should be lucky I'm not looking to steal his job. I work amazing under pressure."

A heavy sigh leaves her as she rethinks the events of her day upon processing his question, wondering just how much information she wants to share with him and how she would go about adjusting the truth as she went along doing so. "A bit of both. I deal with assholes on the regular, but this one today was just... fuck. The absolute worst."

Her eye roll is unavoidable, but she seems to think of something that puts a light smile back on her face. "At least I don't have to worry about him ever again."

wesandlachthings

"Not saying you don't! What I'm saying is that I don't know if that counts as a form of trespassing or whatever but I don't wanna find out." It probably wasn't trespassing, but she was still in a place that she didn't have the certifications to be. Even if she was a natural talent.

"Well hey, that's a plus, isn't it? One less P.O.S to worry about." He cheers to that, taking another sip. "Yeah, people can be real assholes... See it all the time when I'm performing. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt though. Never know what someone else can be going through, y'know?"

Is it an excuse for them to throw glass bottles at him, or shout obscenities when he isn't playing the exact song they want? No, of course not. But there had to be a reason for everything. If not, then fate had been a real asshole to him until recently.

"Say... What do you even plan on doing after this?" He asks, rudely interrupted by a drunken hiccup.

perfectly-intoxicated

If only he knew just how little she had to worry about today's asshole. Having a conversation like this with someone who was so clueless on what it is she does was always interesting, because those kinds of people were always the normal ones. The goody-two-shoes. Hearing Lach's display of empathy for people who didn't deserve it makes her falter, her smile wavering into something smaller, more thoughtful and... something else.

"You're too nice, y'know." She muses, fingers thrumming against the counter beneath them. "If someone gives me shit, I don't give 'em the time of day. It's no excuse to dump your bullshit on someone just 'cause you're having a rough time."

What an ironic thing to say is her own impulsive thought, one she does't linger on. "Honestly? Not a clue. Probably pass out somewhere and wake up in a city hundreds of miles away... that's a joke, by the way." Unfortunately, her humor could be a bit cut and dry. And concerning.

"Why do you ask? Interested in taking me somewhere?"

wesandlachthings

"You're right. Not an excuse. But... I don't know. Billions of people, never know someone's side of the story I guess. But hey, maybe it's better that I don't. Makes it easier to brush off." He could be too empathetic at times. It was a thing that got him teased a bit when he was younger, but he's grown now. No one could give him shit now.

Her attempt at humor is enough to make him raise a brow. "Please don't. But, uh... I don't want you driving, if you even did drive here. My place isn't too far, a few blocks. If you want, uh..." His voice trails off. Even with literal liquid courage, he still didn't have the guts to ask her. Maybe he just wasn't drunk enough.

He takes another sip in an attempt to fix that problem. It does little to help.

"Not trying to force you... Hell, that's the last thing I wanna do. But, uh, yeah." Real smooth there, Barker.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah's starting to think she's sobering up too much, because she finds herself wanting to smack some sense into this ridiculously hot guy with too much understanding for total strangers. Who the fuck cares what the other person's side of the story is? Why complicate things? They do a fucked up thing, they earn a fucked up consequence.

At least she doesn't have to think on it for too long, not when Lach's words are stumbling over themselves in an attempt to ask her back to his place. Hannah finds herself leaning forward more against the countertop, enough where she's just a little closer to Lach than she was before.

"You're really sweet, hon." Hannah's smiles takes a shift into something else as she lowers her voice for just the two of them to hear. "...Would we be doing anything else at this place of yours–?"

"Hey! You can't be back there!"

A voice calls from the other end from behind the bar who, upon diverting her attention to the general direction of the sound, turns out to be the bartender. Who's still on the phone, mind you, shushing his girlfriend while he tries to play it tough. She can feel the eyeroll starting.

"Excuse me, I just made your life easier, asshole.” Hannah turns to face him with the intention of being fully prepared to get into another dispute, mostly fueled by the alcohol in her system. “Maybe do your job next time instead of crying to your girlfriend. Yeah, I heard you. ‘Just a friend’ my ass. Don’t forgive him, hon!”

The bartender sputters and flushes with embarrassment as she sends her little warning, glaring at her while all she does is send a sarcastic smile. He’s lucky she’s got company tonight.

“Wh— mind your business, bitch! I’m calling the cops on your ass!”

Whoops.

“Well. Looks like that’s our cue.” Hannah slides back over the counter to Lach’s side when the bartender turns his back to presumably dial the police, straightening out her dress and rummaging through her purse for her wallet. She tosses down what she’s pretty sure is a Benjamin; it’s about the only thing she carries in her wallet anyway.

“You comin’?” Hannah points towards the door then looks back at Lach, a look of mischief forming on her face. She’s fully intending on fleeing the scene. At least he can’t say she didn’t pay.

wesandlachthings

He doesn't even get the chance to comprehend what she's saying before the bartender comes back. It's just what he feared, and Hannah only makes the situation worse as she calls out his behavior on the phone. He looks back and forth between the two of them, drunken fear keeping him in his spot.

At least she has the courtesy to leave some money for the guy. Though he doesn't think it's anywhere near enough for the amount of alcohol they'd drank. Hell, probably not even enough for Hannah herself. But he doesn't have the luxury of being able to worry about that right now.

He gives her a look, both of confusion and a slight bit angry she got them in this situation, before pulling out his own wallet and throwing a small handful of bills on the counter. He didn't know what bills, but hopefully it was good enough

"Fucking hell..." Popping a few meatballs into his mouth, he grabs Hannah's hand and flees the scene. Hopefully she was sober enough to run away.

"What did I say? Huh?!" He says over his shoulder through a mouthful of meat...Mouthful of balls... Mouthful of food.

#shot through the heart (hannah)#lachlan #threads

aawwrestling0009

WWE NXT - February 3, 2026

Valentine's Day wasn't really her thing, but Hannah could be nice. This once.

There's a large box leaning up against the front door of Lach's place, largely evident "handle with care" and "fragile" labels stuck to the outside of it. Wouldn't want anything happening to her special gift. There's also a sticky note on the top, the message short and simple. Not exactly Jessie's Girl, but something better. - H

The guitar lays shiny and spotless inside the box, handled with the upmost care. She made sure to clean it to avoid any problems in the future that might trail back to any of them.

Hannah's latest victim didn't appreciate it the same way Lach would.

Valentine's Day had been a bit of an odd feeling for Lach the past few years. All he'd ever really gotten out of it was some nice dinner deals, and discounted chocolate the day after. He hadn't had a Valentine ever since... Well, the last one. Ever since, he's gone on a solo career.

But for some reason... Hannah stuck out. Call him childish, but he was genuinely considering getting her something and asking her to be his... Whatever she wanted to be. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he sounded like a creep. So he didn't.

But when he returns back to his place and finds a suspiciously guitar shaped package waiting for him with a sticky note, he can only feel his guilt eating him up further.

He immediately brings the package inside, tearing it open with his keys. Oh no. Oh fuck. This was perfect.

He had 0 clue how she got something like this. This was in perfect condition. Rick's signature looked still looked fresh. It was like this guitar hadn't aged a day. And now it was in his hands?!

Gently placing the priceless musical gem down in its box, he scrambles for his phone and calls the only person he thinks can help solve his problem.

"Hello?"

"I'm so fucked."

#lachlan #shot through the heart (hannah)#wesley #OH GOD HANNAH WHAT HAVE YOU DONE 😭#POOKIE CAN'T HANDLE THIS #Bros gonna get her everything she wants and more #as soon as he gets himself together

GIVE MY MUSE A VALENTINES GIFT

Could be anything a kiss, a card, or chocolate, or even something raunchy if allowed.

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

perfectly-intoxicated

A victorious grin spreads onto her face followed by an accomplished laugh as he takes another swig of the drunk, pride shining where mischief would usually be in her eyes. One fact solidified in concrete about her: she loved being right. "Told you. I'm bursting with hidden talents."

Wouldn't that be something? A change of career and life for a night. Maybe if her life didn't go the way it did, she would be doing this for a living. Paid just about a little more than your average wage, living in some apartment nearby and falling into comfortable routines. In some world, maybe she would've liked it.

In this one though, it sounded like a cage to circle around in endlessly.

"You're speaking my kind of language." Hannah grabs the bottles and starts putting them back in their respective places, like the good unofficial bartender she was. Better than the other guy, at least. “As long as I get the best seat in the house.”

wesandlachthings

"Oh, of course. Front and center. I'll even dedicate my whole setlist to you." And the thing was, he wasn't even exaggerating. If she truly wanted, he'd invite her in a heartbeat. Learn some of her favorites and make sure he'd play them just right.

It was weird, wanting Hannah in his life like this. She was so... Ambitious. An attitude that said that it was her way or the highway. He didn't even really know her all too well, but he wanted to. If he was allowed to.

"... I feel like we've been talking about myself a ton so far." He says after a moment of silence. "How about you? What've you been up to?" Now it's Lach's turn to rest his head in his hand. And maybe he makes doe eyes at her. Intentional or not... That was his little secret.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Wouldn’t that be an honor?” Hannah could see it already. If he dedicated that song to her with those stupidly genuine doe eyes of his on that first night, she’d imagine having a whole set list would rot her never-ending sweet tooth.

Her hand brings the glass to her lips, ready to take another swig of her boss battle of a drink before Lach surprises her another time. Huh. How does she describe what she’s been doing without simultaneously convincing him to call the cops on her?

“Well… nothing much. Work is a pain in the ass sometimes, but that comes with any job.” Especially today’s job. She doesn’t just drink like this any and every day of the week — she was no drunk. “I promise, this isn’t the regular. I’m a very responsible, law-abiding citizen. As you can tell.”

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. And speaking of being a law abiding citizen, you might wanna get out from behind the bar before Mr. Relationship Problems comes back." He says, taking a sip of his cocktail.

This has felt surprisingly lucky on their part. The last thing they needed was for their luck to run out. Or, in the worst case, the cops pulling up.

"Anything specifically that pissed you off today, or is it just an all encompassing pile of shit that made you drink this much?" If he had to take a guess, he'd go with the latter of the two. You don't do all this just because your boss yelled at you once or twice.

perfectly-intoxicated

"What's he gonna do, yell at me for cleaning up his station and making better cocktails? He should be lucky I'm not looking to steal his job. I work amazing under pressure."

A heavy sigh leaves her as she rethinks the events of her day upon processing his question, wondering just how much information she wants to share with him and how she would go about adjusting the truth as she went along doing so. "A bit of both. I deal with assholes on the regular, but this one today was just... fuck. The absolute worst."

Her eye roll is unavoidable, but she seems to think of something that puts a light smile back on her face. "At least I don't have to worry about him ever again."

wesandlachthings

"Not saying you don't! What I'm saying is that I don't know if that counts as a form of trespassing or whatever but I don't wanna find out." It probably wasn't trespassing, but she was still in a place that she didn't have the certifications to be. Even if she was a natural talent.

"Well hey, that's a plus, isn't it? One less P.O.S to worry about." He cheers to that, taking another sip. "Yeah, people can be real assholes... See it all the time when I'm performing. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt though. Never know what someone else can be going through, y'know?"

Is it an excuse for them to throw glass bottles at him, or shout obscenities when he isn't playing the exact song they want? No, of course not. But there had to be a reason for everything. If not, then fate had been a real asshole to him until recently.

"Say... What do you even plan on doing after this?" He asks, rudely interrupted by a drunken hiccup.

perfectly-intoxicated

If only he knew just how little she had to worry about today's asshole. Having a conversation like this with someone who was so clueless on what it is she does was always interesting, because those kinds of people were always the normal ones. The goody-two-shoes. Hearing Lach's display of empathy for people who didn't deserve it makes her falter, her smile wavering into something smaller, more thoughtful and... something else.

"You're too nice, y'know." She muses, fingers thrumming against the counter beneath them. "If someone gives me shit, I don't give 'em the time of day. It's no excuse to dump your bullshit on someone just 'cause you're having a rough time."

What an ironic thing to say is her own impulsive thought, one she does't linger on. "Honestly? Not a clue. Probably pass out somewhere and wake up in a city hundreds of miles away... that's a joke, by the way." Unfortunately, her humor could be a bit cut and dry. And concerning.

"Why do you ask? Interested in taking me somewhere?"

wesandlachthings

"You're right. Not an excuse. But... I don't know. Billions of people, never know someone's side of the story I guess. But hey, maybe it's better that I don't. Makes it easier to brush off." He could be too empathetic at times. It was a thing that got him teased a bit when he was younger, but he's grown now. No one could give him shit now.

Her attempt at humor is enough to make him raise a brow. "Please don't. But, uh... I don't want you driving, if you even did drive here. My place isn't too far, a few blocks. If you want, uh..." His voice trails off. Even with literal liquid courage, he still didn't have the guts to ask her. Maybe he just wasn't drunk enough.

He takes another sip in an attempt to fix that problem. It does little to help.

"Not trying to force you... Hell, that's the last thing I wanna do. But, uh, yeah." Real smooth there, Barker.

#lachlan #shot through the heart (hannah)#threads

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

perfectly-intoxicated

A victorious grin spreads onto her face followed by an accomplished laugh as he takes another swig of the drunk, pride shining where mischief would usually be in her eyes. One fact solidified in concrete about her: she loved being right. "Told you. I'm bursting with hidden talents."

Wouldn't that be something? A change of career and life for a night. Maybe if her life didn't go the way it did, she would be doing this for a living. Paid just about a little more than your average wage, living in some apartment nearby and falling into comfortable routines. In some world, maybe she would've liked it.

In this one though, it sounded like a cage to circle around in endlessly.

"You're speaking my kind of language." Hannah grabs the bottles and starts putting them back in their respective places, like the good unofficial bartender she was. Better than the other guy, at least. “As long as I get the best seat in the house.”

wesandlachthings

"Oh, of course. Front and center. I'll even dedicate my whole setlist to you." And the thing was, he wasn't even exaggerating. If she truly wanted, he'd invite her in a heartbeat. Learn some of her favorites and make sure he'd play them just right.

It was weird, wanting Hannah in his life like this. She was so... Ambitious. An attitude that said that it was her way or the highway. He didn't even really know her all too well, but he wanted to. If he was allowed to.

"... I feel like we've been talking about myself a ton so far." He says after a moment of silence. "How about you? What've you been up to?" Now it's Lach's turn to rest his head in his hand. And maybe he makes doe eyes at her. Intentional or not... That was his little secret.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Wouldn’t that be an honor?” Hannah could see it already. If he dedicated that song to her with those stupidly genuine doe eyes of his on that first night, she’d imagine having a whole set list would rot her never-ending sweet tooth.

Her hand brings the glass to her lips, ready to take another swig of her boss battle of a drink before Lach surprises her another time. Huh. How does she describe what she’s been doing without simultaneously convincing him to call the cops on her?

“Well… nothing much. Work is a pain in the ass sometimes, but that comes with any job.” Especially today’s job. She doesn’t just drink like this any and every day of the week — she was no drunk. “I promise, this isn’t the regular. I’m a very responsible, law-abiding citizen. As you can tell.”

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. And speaking of being a law abiding citizen, you might wanna get out from behind the bar before Mr. Relationship Problems comes back." He says, taking a sip of his cocktail.

This has felt surprisingly lucky on their part. The last thing they needed was for their luck to run out. Or, in the worst case, the cops pulling up.

"Anything specifically that pissed you off today, or is it just an all encompassing pile of shit that made you drink this much?" If he had to take a guess, he'd go with the latter of the two. You don't do all this just because your boss yelled at you once or twice.

perfectly-intoxicated

"What's he gonna do, yell at me for cleaning up his station and making better cocktails? He should be lucky I'm not looking to steal his job. I work amazing under pressure."

A heavy sigh leaves her as she rethinks the events of her day upon processing his question, wondering just how much information she wants to share with him and how she would go about adjusting the truth as she went along doing so. "A bit of both. I deal with assholes on the regular, but this one today was just... fuck. The absolute worst."

Her eye roll is unavoidable, but she seems to think of something that puts a light smile back on her face. "At least I don't have to worry about him ever again."

wesandlachthings

"Not saying you don't! What I'm saying is that I don't know if that counts as a form of trespassing or whatever but I don't wanna find out." It probably wasn't trespassing, but she was still in a place that she didn't have the certifications to be. Even if she was a natural talent.

"Well hey, that's a plus, isn't it? One less P.O.S to worry about." He cheers to that, taking another sip. "Yeah, people can be real assholes... See it all the time when I'm performing. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt though. Never know what someone else can be going through, y'know?"

Is it an excuse for them to throw glass bottles at him, or shout obscenities when he isn't playing the exact song they want? No, of course not. But there had to be a reason for everything. If not, then fate had been a real asshole to him until recently.

"Say... What do you even plan on doing after this?" He asks, rudely interrupted by a drunken hiccup.

#lachlan #shot through the heart (hannah)#threads

So, uh... I may or may not have bought something from an absolutely AMAZING artist...

A HUMONGOUS, MASSIVE, GIGANTIC THANK YOU to the AMAZING @itstoriirdz for making this art of my goofy guys.

(I'm screaming)

Also... This is for my character blog @wesandlachthings so uh... Perhaps check that out? 👀

#lachlan #wesley #art

Psst, Lach lore for you :3

Lach's (former) best friend once hit him in the back with a metal baseball bat.

They are no longer friends, and he is now in jail for the incident.

Lach sustained no horrible damage, but sometimes when he wakes up, it takes a few moments for his legs to work.

Wesley still kinda wishes he could've been able to stop it, but he made a promise to himself that if he ever sees that dirtbag in person again, he's gonna beat the duck out of him.

#lachlan #wesley #rambles

wesandlachthings

Fantasy AU Lach and Wes and they perform in taverns and bring immense joy wherever they go.

That's it. That's the post.

wesandlachthings

Actually, wait, no. I have a little more I'd like to say.

Lach being a bard, using his voice to bring joy to people. A master at all strings, and a strong Vicious Mockery.

Wesley is a sorcerer, with a knack for the fantasy equivalent of close up magic. People love his illusions, and always want him to perform.

The two of them together are quite a force. Be happy that they didn't go down a worse path.

#lachlan #wesley #rambles

Fantasy AU Lach and Wes and they perform in taverns and bring immense joy wherever they go.

That's it. That's the post.

#lachlan #wesley #rambles

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

perfectly-intoxicated

A victorious grin spreads onto her face followed by an accomplished laugh as he takes another swig of the drunk, pride shining where mischief would usually be in her eyes. One fact solidified in concrete about her: she loved being right. "Told you. I'm bursting with hidden talents."

Wouldn't that be something? A change of career and life for a night. Maybe if her life didn't go the way it did, she would be doing this for a living. Paid just about a little more than your average wage, living in some apartment nearby and falling into comfortable routines. In some world, maybe she would've liked it.

In this one though, it sounded like a cage to circle around in endlessly.

"You're speaking my kind of language." Hannah grabs the bottles and starts putting them back in their respective places, like the good unofficial bartender she was. Better than the other guy, at least. “As long as I get the best seat in the house.”

wesandlachthings

"Oh, of course. Front and center. I'll even dedicate my whole setlist to you." And the thing was, he wasn't even exaggerating. If she truly wanted, he'd invite her in a heartbeat. Learn some of her favorites and make sure he'd play them just right.

It was weird, wanting Hannah in his life like this. She was so... Ambitious. An attitude that said that it was her way or the highway. He didn't even really know her all too well, but he wanted to. If he was allowed to.

"... I feel like we've been talking about myself a ton so far." He says after a moment of silence. "How about you? What've you been up to?" Now it's Lach's turn to rest his head in his hand. And maybe he makes doe eyes at her. Intentional or not... That was his little secret.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Wouldn’t that be an honor?” Hannah could see it already. If he dedicated that song to her with those stupidly genuine doe eyes of his on that first night, she’d imagine having a whole set list would rot her never-ending sweet tooth.

Her hand brings the glass to her lips, ready to take another swig of her boss battle of a drink before Lach surprises her another time. Huh. How does she describe what she’s been doing without simultaneously convincing him to call the cops on her?

“Well… nothing much. Work is a pain in the ass sometimes, but that comes with any job.” Especially today’s job. She doesn’t just drink like this any and every day of the week — she was no drunk. “I promise, this isn’t the regular. I’m a very responsible, law-abiding citizen. As you can tell.”

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. And speaking of being a law abiding citizen, you might wanna get out from behind the bar before Mr. Relationship Problems comes back." He says, taking a sip of his cocktail.

This has felt surprisingly lucky on their part. The last thing they needed was for their luck to run out. Or, in the worst case, the cops pulling up.

"Anything specifically that pissed you off today, or is it just an all encompassing pile of shit that made you drink this much?" If he had to take a guess, he'd go with the latter of the two. You don't do all this just because your boss yelled at you once or twice.

#lachlan #threads #shot through the heart (hannah)

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

perfectly-intoxicated

A victorious grin spreads onto her face followed by an accomplished laugh as he takes another swig of the drunk, pride shining where mischief would usually be in her eyes. One fact solidified in concrete about her: she loved being right. "Told you. I'm bursting with hidden talents."

Wouldn't that be something? A change of career and life for a night. Maybe if her life didn't go the way it did, she would be doing this for a living. Paid just about a little more than your average wage, living in some apartment nearby and falling into comfortable routines. In some world, maybe she would've liked it.

In this one though, it sounded like a cage to circle around in endlessly.

"You're speaking my kind of language." Hannah grabs the bottles and starts putting them back in their respective places, like the good unofficial bartender she was. Better than the other guy, at least. “As long as I get the best seat in the house.”

wesandlachthings

"Oh, of course. Front and center. I'll even dedicate my whole setlist to you." And the thing was, he wasn't even exaggerating. If she truly wanted, he'd invite her in a heartbeat. Learn some of her favorites and make sure he'd play them just right.

It was weird, wanting Hannah in his life like this. She was so... Ambitious. An attitude that said that it was her way or the highway. He didn't even really know her all too well, but he wanted to. If he was allowed to.

"... I feel like we've been talking about myself a ton so far." He says after a moment of silence. "How about you? What've you been up to?" Now it's Lach's turn to rest his head in his hand. And maybe he makes doe eyes at her. Intentional or not... That was his little secret.

#lachlan #threads #shot through the heart (hannah)

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

perfectly-intoxicated

Pouring the vodka into the mug once she's found it and adding the lime juice, she tops it off with ice and pours the ginger beer over it, stirring it with a bar spoon and topping it off with a wedge of lime. Definitely neater and nicer than a bottle of beer, if she could say so herself. And Lach didn't even need to pay for this one. If the bartender didn't find out.

"I don't see why not." Hannah slides the drink over to Lach and leans forward on the counter to wait until he's taken a swig of the drink, circling the rim of her own glass currently in front of her. "I promise I won't get drunk if you book a gig here... well, not too drunk, at least. An acceptable amount."

What a funny thing, that Hannah's assuming he'll invite her to a gig and she's assuming she'd accept the offer. She couldn't remember the last time she was invited to something so... casual. And from the looks of it, Lach would mean it sincerely. He seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Or maybe Hannah's too good at reading people at this point.

wesandlachthings

This time, the drink she makes looks digestible. Something he's pretty sure he's seen Wes make at the family function, and not whatever hellish mixture was in the first glass. He was actually impressed at how masterfully she seemed to make it, even while intoxicated.

"I'll hold you to it then." Taking the copper cup, he's less hesitant to take the first sip than before. The taste is tangy, a little sweet, and that ginger packs a punch. But it's a lot more tolerable than that... Thing. And hey, beer. Good in his book.

"Hmm... Not bad, Hannah. Not bad at all." He says, gladly taking another swig of his drink. "Maybe if I get hired to play here, I can bring you with me. Serve nothing but these. Get the whole place hammered." He says, a genuine smile now on his face.

#lachlan #threads #shot through the heart (hannah)

wesandlachthings

Hannah had a long day.

Monica got on her ass again for not contacting her immediately after her job was completed, Hannah had to go home and change from ruining her nice outfit with blood splatter, and her body still has the unfortunate aches from being shoved into that wall earlier today. The guy got pissy before she eventually killed him.

But look at her now. Sitting at a nice bar, in nicer clothes, and giving the bartender a nice smile when she orders another drink. She's feeling absolutely great... yeah.

She's also beyond shitfaced but that's besides the point. The point is, she's bored. Tremendously, and no one in here seems to catch her eye. She leans back in her seat with a heavy sigh; how unfortunate. There is one number belonging to a certain someone, one her inebriated mind is surprised to know she remembers.

Her phone rings, an annoying chime that drills into her head and only gives her momentary relief in between those brief pauses, but a smile spreads onto her face when she hears it's been answered and her voice makes that very aware.

"Heyyyy, crooner. What took ya so long ta answer?" Her voice is laced with her own grin, and she wanders from the bar counter to the unoccupied couch on the other side of the room, pushing through her own double vision as she sprawls out across it. "Am I not 'hot redhead' on your phone or something? But– listen, got something super super important to tell you. Listen ta what the bar 's playin' right now."

The phone sounds like it shifts before the music is playing more clearly now, the lyrics coming through.

"You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Where can I find a woman like that?"

"Crazy stuff, right?" Hannah's back with the phone to her ear, clearing her throat and getting right back into her talking. "'Minds me of that night. I swear no one gives two shits 'bout anyone who performs there. You should'a asked for a– a bonus or whatever. Guy who manages the joint's kinda a dick. Could'a killed him for ya... oops, wait, can't say that.

...You kinda look like you could crush a watermelon with your arms, 'n that's weirdly hot. Have you seen those videos? I'd pay to see that 'n person."

@perfectly-intoxicated

After another dud of a gig, Lach wasn't particularly in the best of spirits.

It wasn't like he'd be walking away with nothing he was legally required to be paid after all. But for such a small amount of money, he probably would've had better luck sitting on the street corner and playing for random people.

Now at his apartment, trying to decompress, a phone call isn't exactly on the top of his list of things to experience. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do, and couldn't fall asleep, he figured what harm would it do to answer?

"Hello?"

He wasn't expecting to be met with a very clearly not sober Hannah. It was almost comical how drunk she sounded. He could see the grin in front of him right now, though the rest of her face was a bit of a blur. It's been a minute since he'd seen her... Made him wonder why, out of all people, she'd call him.

"Unfortunately, despite how attractive you are, you're just Hannah on my phone. Sorry to disappoint." He humors, before listening to what she was trying to show. Jessie's Girl, the song that he'd played for her when they met. The song he'd dedicated to her. Quite the coincidence.

"Well, y'know, I can't exactly afford to be picky. Gotta eat, gotta pay rent, gotta live. But... Yeah, that guy was a dick. Not murder level, but not nice." Though had he not played in that shitty bar, he would've never met her. Wouldn't be laying in his bed, talking on the phone with her.

Before he can get even more contemplative though, she shocks him right to his core. That was certainly blunt. But she didn't seem like the kind of person to beat around the bush when she was sober. This was a privilege to see what little filter she had be removed.

" I mean, never thought about it. I'm pretty strong... Probably could. If you're willing to pay, maybe I can start selling videos of me crushing fruits." Hell, people pay for tons of things. Maybe Hannah was actually a secret genius.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Well, don’ threaten me with a good time here.” Hannah’s voice lowers slightly, unable to resist a short, amused giggle and a hum that follows soon after at the… uncensored images that flick through her head like a particularly interesting slideshow.

Hannah’s head hangs off from the armrest of the couch, just enough to catch glimpses of people who walk in and out with a variety of sobriety. “If— if you open ‘n OnlyFans, I reserve the right ta a percen’age of what you make. I gave you the idea, after all… or maybe I could jus’ be there ‘n person for all the action.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t realize that the action she’s currently thinking of might be different from Lach’s own. “I swear ‘m a great director. Or I could be. I could help with clean up.”

…Her version of clean up is also very different.

“You should— totally come by. You sound like your day was shitty… respectfully. I make good companyyy.”

wesandlachthings

"I don't think filming myself crushing a melon would require as much work or compensation as you think it does." He says, a smile creeping onto his face. Even if she wasn't exactly all there, she was funny as hell. Blunt, but funny.

He genuinely considers the offer held in front of him. He was very comfortable in his bed. Was it really worth changing back out of his sweats just to possibly get blackout drunk again?

"I don't know... Sounds like you're one drink away from throwing up. And I don't wanna risk ruining my good shirt if that's the case." He says, already planning on getting up and changing. He'd go... To protect her from any creeps. Not because his day truly was shitty and he wanted to try and forget.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I don’ jus’ go ‘round throwin’ up on people, for your information. I’m a classy woman.” Hannah tries to sound more offended than she does, but it just ends up making her sound more unserious than she would’ve preferred.

“Come ooon, you wouldn’ leave ‘n unassuming lady to fend for herself, would you? What if I wander out ‘nto the street ‘n… get kidnapped? ‘m very much what a kidnapper would look for. What if I get stopped by a Mormon?”

Hannah abruptly sits up from her previous laid-out position, and even if her phone suddenly isn’t as close as it was before, she still makes sure she’s heard on the other line. “’m gonna go ‘nto the street and fall on my face on the sidewalk! Maybe get snatched up or join a religion! Someone should totally come ‘n stop me!”

wesandlachthings

"Right, right, forgive me for assuming so little of you." He says before forcing himself to sit up. Looks like his evening had been decided for him. What harm could a few drinks do?

"Oh, whatever. Like anyone would want you stumbling around all over the place." He tries to keep his voice light, but it would be a lie to say that the idea of her being snatched up didn't make him move a tad bit faster.

"Please don't go outside, just tell me where you are!" He shouts from his closet, trying his best to change as fast as he possibly could. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up on the street and magically convert to Mormonism in the span of 5 minutes. Not that that would ever happen, but the possibility was still there.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, I ‘m in a vulner’ble state. I bet lots ‘a people want me right now. I can point out lots ‘a people who do.” It’s almost ridiculous, how Hannah felt the need to argue that she is, in fact, very kidnap-able. Has he seen her lately? She’s hot and she knows it. She has the experience to prove just how much she’s wanted. Except, well.

She’d rather not go into that experience right now.

“Hold on, lemme check.” Hannah gets to her feet, stumbling as she does so and knocking over something that she can’t quite make out. Still, there’s a muffled apology from her end as she feels along the wall towards the double doors. The ring of the bells above it irritates her.

“‘S ‘Madame George’… oh shit, look at that! They got live music. You could— I could see you doin’ your thing here. ‘S cool here. They got good meatballs here. I’m gonna order some uh… some balls. Not that kind though. The meat kind. Like pork and shit. You’ll like ‘em. Also, bring a coat. It’s cold as fuck.”

wesandlachthings

'Madame George', he's pretty sure that he's done a gig there before. But then again, he's done a show at almost every bar in a 12 mile radius, so that wasn't exactly special. But he did remember having some pretty decent meatballs, and he was hungry.

"Got it. Just please keep you and your meatballs inside the bar 'til I get there." Tossing on some jeans, he heeds her warning and brings a jacket with him, practically running out the door so that Hannah wouldn't get the opportunity to leave without him. He decides to ditch driving. If he was gonna be drinking, the last thing he needed was to lose his keys. Or die, whichever was worse.

"Say, uh... Make it 2 orders of meatballs. And get me a beer. I'll pay you back when I get there." He says, jogging along the quickest route his phone gave to him. She was right, it was cold. Hopefully she wasn't freezing.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Now we’re talkin’! I knew I’d convince you.” Hannah’s voice makes it obvious that she’s more than pleased with the outcome of her request, the bell of the door the only sound confirming she’s wandered back into the bar. Thank fuck. She liked dick, but not enough to freeze. “You have a soft spot for me, don’ you?”

She plops down at one of the seats at the bar counter, waving the guy over with an extra nice smile when she puts their order in. From the corner of her eye, there’s the confirmed speculation of the bartender throwing glances her way. Poor guy, thought he had a chance.

“Are you runnin’ right now?” Once the sound of wind reaches her ears, she’s speaking over her own incredulous giggle and resting her chin on her gloved hand. “That excited t’ see me. You’re just adorable.”

wesandlachthings

He could hear her grin through the phone. He knew that's what she wanted. But damn, she sure could be convincing.

"Yeah, sure, I have a soft spot for you. Whatever makes you sit down and not get kidnapped." He tries to sound like he doesn't care that much. But the unfortunate truth was that he did care. Very much. Call him a big softie.

He can hear her placing the order past the wind blowing by. Which thankfully means that she was sat and not going anywhere. "And so what if I am running? Acting like you're not the one that told me to get there or else you'd be snatched."

He'd let her get away with calling him adorable though. A bit iffy, but he'd let it slide. If only because she sounded so cute when she said it.

perfectly-intoxicated

"'s 'cause 'm snatchable. We've been over this, 've got many qualities that– y'know, call to your regular snatcher." If the day were to come where someone did, indeed, try to kidnap Hannah of all people, they would find their plan going horrifically wrong for them the moment they made their attempts to shove her away into a van. She was not the cheesy, helpless victim in a 70s slasher, she was the killer that wouldn't die, and she didn't mind reminding anyone who underestimated her one bit.

Welp. Anyway.

"Besides, don' forget. I still have time t' be convinced into Mormonism. I can almost see the dress shirts n' ties from here... you'd look good 'n a dress shirt 'n tie. You should send me a picture if you ever wear 'em. Maybe I'd return the favor." Her last statement is a low purr, something that could've been more seductive if some other drunk ass hadn't shoved into her from behind. At least when she got drunk, she took it slow.

Her phone is lowered onto the counter as she nearly yells at the guy to watch where he's walking. She gets a few insults back, but at least he fucks right on off.

wesandlachthings

"Oh, yeah, let me just go tell my guy to cancel the plan," he says incredulously. Regular snatcher, whatever.

Before he can even come up with a witty little comeback to her flirts, he can hear her shouting at someone. And can vaguely make out the responses back. Damnit, he really should've done some cardio last week... He feels so slow.

"Hannah, I swear, you better not be getting into a fight. I'm a few blocks away, don't be stupid." That was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn't want to have to break anything up, and even if it did come down to it, he didn't even have his hands taped up or anything. How ill prepared of him.

He can barely hear as he's running, jay walking across any empty crosswalks in an attempt to try and get to her faster. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, was so ready for a beer. Or water. Or anything.

perfectly-intoxicated

“I’m being stupid? I’m sittin’ by my lonesome self right now, you should be callin’ this other guy stupid. Some people don’ know how to fuckin’ walk. ‘Least when ‘m wasted, I take it slow. Why’s everyone ‘n a hurry nowadays?”

Upon mentioning the ‘other guy’, she sounds as if she turns away from her phone and directs the insult to someone further away from her and then returns to her own business. Lucky for him, his friends are starting to drag the guy away. Whatever.

“Don’chu go worryin’ your pretty head off, hon. I’m just… layin’ back with some meatballs. Which, for the record, I will start eating yours if you aren’t here by the time I finish mine.” At least the sour tone is out of her voice once she focuses on something else.

wesandlachthings

"Damnit, no, not calling you stupid. I just don't want you to get into a fight right now. Please don't eat my meatballs," he says, looking down at his phone. He wasn't that far, just around the corner.

"I'm practically here already. Don't touch my food." That's all he gives her before hanging up the call, and booking it the last few turns. The sign for the place is a refuge of sorts. And not to pay himself on the back, but it looked like his cardio training paid off.

He's a bit of a mess, with a red flush on his face, tussled hair, and shaky hands after realizing just how fucking cold he was. But he was here. Which meant that he'd done good. Now all he had to do was find Hannah, which wasn't hard at all considering that there was only one redhead woman in the bar.

Sliding up next to her, he lets out a long breath as he melts into his seat. "Ta-da." He says, sounding worn out.

perfectly-intoxicated

"No promises." Hannah manages to playfully slip in one more of her comments before she hears the other side of the line go silent, looking down at her phone with confusion before realizing. Well. Now all there's left to do is wait for him to arrive. She goes to take a sip from the cup beside her, even if she doesn't remember asking for, only to make an unsatisfied face from how bland it is.

Water. The bartender shakes his head in her direction when she looks to him. Well fuck. She sets the water back down and takes a bite of her own order of meatballs.

Mid-chew on her own treat, she looks towards the direction of the doors opening and grins once she's swallowed and realized it's Lach looking sweaty and flushed in the doorway, and oh, she likes the look of him like that, and she can't help but shamelessly give him a once over...

"Yaaay!" She gives a short round of claps to accompany her lighthearted exclamation. "You made it! You look all red. Your beer's here, 'least." Hannah's hand moves up to pat Lach's arm, her movements halting in surprise by the feeling she's met with. "Wow, you really do work out a lot. Could you carry me? 'f I get shitfaced enough, will you?"

wesandlachthings

Well at least she's happy to see him. His lips curl up into a smile as he catches his breath. He was happy to see Hannah again, after thinking that he probably had no chance of seeing her again. And he was also very happy that he had something to drink after that run. "Good to see you too."

Taking the glass, he manages to chug half of his drink in one go. It tastes like trash, and has a nice burn to it, which means it's good. Damn near slamming the glass down on the counter, he finally had enough of himself gathered to look at her. Though it seemed as if she was focused on something else of his.

And maybe he flexes his bicep for her. Just to show off a bit.

"I mean, unless you magically weigh more than 300 pounds, you would be pretty easy for me to pick up. Not an excuse to pass out on me though."

perfectly-intoxicated

Aww, his smile's cute. That pisses her off a little.

Irrationally, yes, but she hates admitting sappy shit like that or even just letting the uncontrollable thought cross her mind. She didn't invite him just to think about cute smiles. She didn't want to be a sad drunk, so she invited him to not be alone. And maybe fuck afterwards if the universe is kind to her tonight.

"Are you kiddin'? My mind 's alive. 'M more awake than anyone else could ever be or... ever has been." The soft silk of her gloved hand pulls down on the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly as she speaks, watching the material of his shirt cling to his bicep before eventually letting go.

"I won't believe it 'til you prove it." Hannah shrugs with a small impish smile, head going back to resting on her hand while she watches him come down from his running high. Was this her attempt to get him to pick her up? Yes. Would it be the last time she does this? Definitely not.

wesandlachthings

"Mhm. Sure it is." He wasn't about to argue with a drunk Hannah. If she wanted to think that she was the most awake person to ever live, then she could go ahead and prove herself wrong.

It seems as if his company had found something to fidget with, as he watches Hannah mess around with his sleeve. He hadn't gone too extra tonight, opting for a boring white tee. But given how she couldn't keep her hands off his muscles, maybe that was the right move.

"Prove it? Now?" He'd just gotten done with cardio, and now she wanted to move right into weights? She would make a terrible personal trainer. And the worst part was that he actually wanted to do it. Whether it was out of pride, or just him trying to show off... Well, that was up for interpretation.

Lach stood from his seat, shaking out his arms. "Alright, stand up, c'mon."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Hey, your offer, not mine.” Hannah tries to play it off, not-so-subtly shrugging her shoulders as she turns her head away and down to her glass of water. And yet her eyes are flitting between him and the glass, waiting to see what he ends up doing.

He does just as she was hoping he would, and she’s not conscious enough of her own self-perception to do anything about her excited grin. Holding onto the counter as she slides off her seat, she finds stability in order to not sway as evidently as she had been previously before Lach got here.

“If you drop me though, I will smack you upside the head.” Lach’s lucky he wasn’t anybody else. Otherwise she’d be threatening to do much more than just smack him. “…So what, do you need me ‘n like— a certain position or somethin’?”

wesandlachthings

"First, that's very rude. And second, I'm not gonna drop you, so you have nothing to worry about."

When she's standing, he can't help but look at her. Damn, she was pretty. He didn't come here to stare at her, he came here to drink. And he knew that she was drunk. But that dress she was in... She looked beautiful. And he felt lucky to see her in it.

"Nope. Just stand right there."

Getting closer to her, he places his hands on her waist. They're rough, years on years of playing anything with a string having done its damage on his fingers. Yet he's still as gentle as he can be.

"Alright, brace yourself. 3, 2, 1, up!" With ease, he lifts Hannah off the ground. Wow, yeah, she was surprisingly easy. He didn't know what else to expect from someone so small, but yeah.

perfectly-intoxicated

Hannah is well aware of the effect her closet’s clothing options had on those around her. Everything she did for her physical appearance was meticulous and intentional, made to pull a specific reaction from people so she gets what she wants in the end.

So yeah, she can tell when Lach decides to really look at her once she’s stood up, but the way he does it is… strange. Not what she expects. And the hands on her waist are gentle.

…Huh.

There’s no time to really think it over (which is a benefit to her and everyone else around her) before those same hands are hoisting her up and she’s letting out an accomplished laugh, hands holding onto Lach’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. ‘Least you’ve got permission to pick me up whenever you want.”

wesandlachthings

What was that one thing from that one show? It's like picking up a bunch of grapes? Yeah, that was what picking up Hannah felt like. He could toss her over his shoulder and take her out of her if he wanted to. But luckily for her, he wanted meatballs.

As careful as ever, Lach puts Hannah back down on the floor, giving her a smile and a wink. "I'll remember that." Might come in handy soon if she decides to get into another altercation.

His hands stay on her waist for a second too long, and once he realizes, he quickly lets her go. Sitting back down, he takes another sip of his drink.

"So, any reason you called me of all people? Or did everyone else just say no?" He asks, though there's no real venom in his tone.

perfectly-intoxicated

“What, I can’t call my favorite performer t’ join me for some drinks?” Hannah lightheartedly replies as if it’s obvious, making herself comfortable back on her seat and circling the rim of her glass of water. “‘Sides, works out for both of us. I get company, and you got to put ‘n some cardio… and y’know. Meatballs.”

She reaches for her fork and sticks it into her meatball, taking a bite of it and watching Lach take another swig of his drink, swallowing before speaking. “So. Did you miss me?” Hannah’s smile widens, leaning forward towards him with her chin on her palm.

wesandlachthings

"Well, most of the calls I get are for birthday parties or church sermons. Just surprising is all."

Unable to resist his temptations any longer, Lach steals one of the meatballs from Hannah's plate, and pops it into his mouth. She wasn't lying, these things were good. The closest thing he'd be getting to a steak at this hour.

"I guess you could say that... To be fair, I wasn't expecting to see you again. So this is a pleasant surprise." He says. It's true, he wasn't expecting Hannah to call him at all. After all, he was just a random musician she'd met on a random night. Giving her his number was a long shot, and he doubted she would've called him if she was sober. It was strange, how this had fallen into place.

"I guess I did miss you."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Church sermons? That’s why you didn’ wan’ me talkin’ to the Mormons — you’re gonna convert me!” Hannah pokes his chest once and resists the urge to keep her hand there. Firm. Her thoughts wander and wonder how firm other parts of him were, but she doesn’t vocalize any of this. Best not to scare the poor guy away.

At Lach’s comment about her call being a surprise, her brows furrow in confusion and the first expression other than a drunk, content smile crosses her face. “Uh… why would that be a surprise? You interest me. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t call?”

Hannah’s tone is teasing, her last question not actually as serious as it could’ve been. That’s a thought, someone not wanting to call her. Maybe it’ll happen someday. But so far, she’s been nothing but successful.

wesandlachthings

"No, I'm not! But you'd be surprised if how many churches are willing to pay out the ass for a guy to play electric while the pastor puts everyone to sleep." He holds his hand up, as if trying to fend off the allegations physically.

Her next sentiment makes him hurt though. It's not that he didn't want her to call. Far from it actually. He was hoping that she would at least shoot him a text for something. A branch to try and grab onto. But this... Wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go.

He sounded like an ass. He knew he did. But the circumstances for if she reached him were a little more ideal in his head.

"No, no, far from it. It's just... You're super drunk. And I'm probably gonna get super drunk..."

He can't find the nerve to ask her what's clawing away in his throat. 'Would you have called me if you were sober?'

perfectly-intoxicated

…Oh. Okay. So— Hannah isn’t exactly in the right state of mind to offer consolation.

Even if she were bone-dry sober, comfort isn’t exactly her biggest strength. Isn’t that what he’s looking for right now? Suddenly words are… hard as fuck to think of right now. Would she have called him if she was sober? Sure, well. Eventually. It’s not her fault she’s been. Busy.

“…Yeah, well. That happens when you drink.” Hannah tries to make her voice sound less slurred with her words than they did before they started this conversation, shifting in her seat. “I mean, do you not wanna… be here or something?”

Huh. That’s new. Rejection. It’s been a while since that’s happened.

wesandlachthings

Fuck, did he ruin this?

"No! I do want to be here, trust me! It's just... I don't know, maybe I wish it was different. Something that won't be blurry later, y'know?" He could've taken her out properly. Could've been able to wear something nicer so that it didn't look like she was going out with a guy off the street. Could've taken her out to dinner. Maybe a nice cocktail bar. With those steak cuts that would've left him wondering how he was gonna pay rent. But he would've done it if she would've asked.

So many maybe's... And yet, none of them would happen. Because this was here and now. And he was killing the mood with his contemplative silence.

"But I guess now isn't the time for all that, am I right?" He says, sitting up and snapping himself out of his depressing mind. Hannah didn't call him here to dampen her mood. So who was he to do such?

With his glass in hand, he holds it out for a toast. "Here's to us making some bad decisions tonight, hm?"

perfectly-intoxicated

What. What is this.

Lach keeps talking and Hannah keeps feeling— wrong. Why is he talking like that? What does he mean? What does it mean?

Different, blurry. Blurry stands out to her. Isn’t that the… the fun of hooking up? The mystery? The uncertainty? The endless questions afterwards? Why would he want her to remember this, why would he want to remember her? Remembering is painful. Remembering leads to realizing and realizing means to uncover something, and uncovering too much wouldn’t be good. Not for her, not for anyone. She— she—

She needs an actual drink. For the toast. The one Lach’s doing.

“…Hold on. Not yet. I need an actual drink.” Hannah’s voice doesn’t seem to match her contemplative expression at first, but when she turns to look towards the door the bartender walks through, she turns back around like it was never there. And then sits up and casually slides over the bar counter until she lands on the other side, back turned as she raises herself on the tips of her toes to reach a bottle.

wesandlachthings

She looks at him for a few moments, and Lach wonders if he'd just sealed his fate with his mediocre confession. Thankfully, before he dug himself a deeper hole, she decides to let him know that she wasn't thinking about up and leaving.

Bad news is that the way she decided to do it was with hopping over the bar.

Oh god, he could hear his brother in his ear right now. 'The bar is a sacred place, Lach. Patrons stay on that side, I stay on this side, and we mutually agree that that line shall not be crossed!' Wesley would be livid right now if he knew he was out with a jumper.

Lachlan frantically looks around, before his gaze snaps back to Hannah trying to grab a bottle off the shelf. "What are you doing?!" He whisper shouts, trying not to direct anymore attention to them than they already had.

perfectly-intoxicated

“Relax! I’m still gonna pay the guy. Besides, I know he’ll be a while. I heard him on the phone with his girlfriend. She did not seem happy.” Her fingers manage to grab a hold of the brandy and vodka, setting both bottles onto the counter and grabbing a clean glass. “In another life out there, I would have his job. I make a mean Greyhound.”

Except it doesn’t seem like she’s making a Greyhound. She’s making something with what she’s already retrieved plus absinthe, gin, and blackberry liqueur. It was definitely strong. If she was only going to allow herself one more drink, she might as well make it worth it. She was already starting to feel sober again.

“Come on, test my skills out! I promise to not disappoint.” She speaks as she whips up her cocktail, looking around for a straw and huffing when she can’t find them. Whatever.

wesandlachthings

The last thing he's worried about is whether or not she's gonna pay. Instead, his fear is shifted towards the witches brew she's currently concocting in that glass. It looked like an insta-kill in a cup. A bunch of shit that wasn't meant to be put together being forced to try and live in harmony.

And now she's forcing him to drink it. Now, here's the thing. He's allowed to say no. After all, it's his body, and he decides what dangerous potions to consume. However, the thing is, his mother didn't raise a little bitch.

Taking a deep breath, Lach brings the glass to his lips, and takes a small sip. If regret had a taste, he's pretty sure that it would taste similar to this. It burns his tongue on impact, and a cacophony of unbearable flavors accompanied it. Blackberries and gin and vodka and whatever the fuck else was in that cup.

He tries his best to put on a smile, though it's clear that it's poorly masking the pain he feels. "Mmmmm, so good!" He even gives a thumbs up to go with it.

perfectly-intoxicated

When Lach takes the glass, Hannah seems to pause for a moment before leaning forward on the counter supported by her forearms, head tilting and watching him take the smallest of sips. Nodding along to his reaction, she tries her best to go along with it… but her smile takes a turn into something more amused.

“…Y’know you weren’t supposed to drink that one, right? That one’s mine.” Hannah reaches for the cup in the midst of Lach’s clear suffering, unable to resist her chuckle towards the end of her sentence. “I appreciate you trying though, even if you did hate it. It’s sweet.”

The glass is lifted up to her mouth and she takes a sip of it, never able to resist the sort of wince she makes once she swallows it down. Clearing her throat, she gives his hand a consoling pat before turning back to the array of bottles behind her. “Anything else you’re into besides beer? So I have something to work with.”

wesandlachthings

Oh. Well now he just seemed like an asshole that stole girls drinks.

Once he's over his wincing, he gladly sets the drink back down. "Oh thank God." He says in relief. If she planned on drinking that, then maybe he'd be forced to carry her out of here. Maybe it was her grand plan all along. Considering how obsessed she'd become with his arms, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Uhm..." He never really went outside the usual 'Several beers' method of drinking, so he was a bit lost. Even with all the explanations his sibling gave him. Think... There were a bunch of random things he'd been told... Uh...

"Moscow mule. Yeah. That one."

perfectly-intoxicated

“Ooh, a classic.” Hannah ushers her previous glass of water his way, watching him recover from his first interaction with Aunt Roberta. Or well, what she assumes is his first. Hannah remembers her first time, a jumbled concoction that was barely a proper cocktail. “Wash out the taste. It lingers.”

Hannah's eyes flit over the space in front and behind her in search of that signature copper mug, reaching for the vodka and ginger beer along with the lime in the meantime. "So, when'll I get to hear you sing again?"

It's been a hot minute since that night, but she still remembers it. He wouldn't take his eyes off her. Not often, anyway. Whether because he liked her from the start or because she was the only one actually listening was still up for debate.

wesandlachthings

That's the one thing that she's said so far that wasn't on the verge of batshit. He snatches the water that the bartender had given her, and drinks the rest of it. He didn't think Hannah would mind the loss.

"Depends. I'm searching for my next gig right now, so hopefully soon." It was hard, especially when he couldn't play one of the most 'perform at our place!' instruments in the piano. He'd tried learning so many times, but for some reason, he could never get his hands to cooperate, and the keys got so jumbled and it was just... Hard. He could keep track of 6 strings, and 20 frets, but 88 keys was hell.

He pops another meatball into his mouth.

"You think I could ask the manager if I could play here? I could get cleaned up. Play some fancy music." He says through a mouthful of food.

#lachlan #threads #shot through the heart (hannah)

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