Pocket Full of Mumbles (prp Silas)

[Delaney]

She had left her last job early, thanks to unforeseen circumstances, so the woman had simply walked on down to the waterfront. It's one of those days, and along with it, her last paycheck lay crumpled up in the bottom of her small black purse. Messing up on inventory one too many times had handed her one final check before giving her the boot. The news had come along with it today. With a grimace on her lips, Delaney tried to convince herself that she should have quit working for that stickler of a woman a long time ago. At least she wouldn't have to stay for late night closings anymore, right? Before long, she had found a place to settle for a while. No harm in strolling on in random places like this instead, sitting at the bar as she was, and cradling a full mug between two clammy hands. Thanks goes to Budwieser for keeping it simple.

Dim lights catch the features of the faces around her. People. Too many hurting people. They only came to drink their pains away. While these places are the worst, they are also the best. Despite the actual noise, these crowds are quieter for her. At least, they're quieter in the sense that people here have already drunk their pains away. Delaney knows. They hurt when they arrive, but most forget soon after they've downed a few. For this fact alone, the woman finds herself here, sitting on a barstool. In faded jeans and a plaid brown and red blouse, the woman thinks she might should have gone home and changed into something nicer. At least, with blond and orange dye, her hair seemed to be keeping it all together.

For a saturday night, the place is pretty packed. Blue eyes glance to a television screen as it scrolls the latest game scores. Men at a nearby table laugh over some story concerning someone's wife. A woman a few stools down hangs onto the arm beside to her. A group at a pool table further back are complaining about a lousy shot. People walk in. People walk out. The speakers overhead are blaring some song she doesn't recognize or care to hear a second time.

Brows furrow. Her hand grips the glass tighter than necessary. Knuckle bones ache with the movement, although the hand appears normal. The woman blinks, aware of the crinkling, grinding feeling in her fingers. Arthritis, from the elderly woman in the grocery store last week. Delaney had watched through gray-blue eyes as the older lady had struggled to carry bags to her car. A piece of her had recognized her pains, arthritis and something more… Something terminal. In the end, she had eased a portion of the old lady's pain by taking it herself. While she couldn't transfer it all, or dare to touch the worst of it, Delaney had helped with the discomfort. The elderly woman now felt her burden to a lesser degree, but the younger held the rest. Delaney knows she'll bare this pain accordingly, until the old woman finds some miraculous aid in curing the remainder of her pains, or simply dies.

A finger twitches against the glass. Eh, she'll get over it. That same hand rises, bringing the mug up to her lips. She throws two gulps on down. The taste never had settled well with her… No better than it ever did the following morning, or sometimes earlier. Delany had always had trouble holding what she drank, but chose to drink regardless tonight.

Too bad people can't do the same for her the days after nights like this. What she wouldn't give to load her pains onto some other sorry sap. Eyes stare at the television hanging on the wall, pretending to be the slightest bit interested in football. Delaney doesn't even care to notice who's playing. Nope, the woman just watches the ball change hands.

So she lifts the glass again, but this time only to take a sip.
Stupid employers. Stupid jobs she can't seem to hold...
Maybe she'll forget.

Oh? A touchdown. Good for whoever the team was. The left corner of her lip draws upwards to smirk at the overhead screen.

[Zephyr]

This is probably one of the worst ideas he’s ever had. He sits, staring into his nearly full glass of bourbon while people pass by. Each time, he tries to lean forward so that one of them doesn’t accidently touch him. So far, he’s been lucky. He thinks that just maybe he’ll get out of this without putting someone in the hospital, or worse, getting kicked out and banned from the damn bar. He decides he isn’t drunk enough for this yet, so he goes to take another long sip of his bourbon, glaring at a couple of loud kids next to him. He’s dangerously close to telling them in a very polite way to fuck the hell off when someone suddenly makes a goal and everyone, including the kids next to him cheer.

“Fucking hell.” He hisses, and starts to gulp down his drink like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. And maybe, the drunker he gets, the more sane he gets. But he’s probably just getting so drunk that he just doesn’t give a shit anymore.

Literally, though, Silas is on the verge of texting Nate. He gets the phone out and stares at it. It’s far too noisy in here to call, but he could just tell him to get his ass over here to act as a human buffer between him and the other people or just take him the hell home. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but he took a damn cab here from the hospital, and Nate was working. So he’d decided to come alone. It hadn’t had anything to do with the fact he suspected that Nate was out at some other bar, trying to pick up some other guy, or already at his apartment with someone…or with Matthias.

Drinking alone isn’t anything new to Silas. Just, now he has options. Someone to drink with, someone to go home with if things turn out that way, someone to take him home if he drinks too much. It’s nice, really, and Silas is wondering if he takes it for granted…but he knew how Nate was before getting into this thing. Silas has always been one to get attached…and now he’s gotten himself attached, and now it’s bothering him, all those other guys. Matthias, his friend. Silas just has no idea how to quit Nate, or even if he wants to anymore. Blinking, he licks bourbon off of his lips and bangs the glass on the counter, catching the bartender’s gaze with a flick of his wrist.

This definitely calls for more booze. He doesn’t know when he’d actually started to care what Nate does with other people. They’d always had this unspoken thing. And it didn’t bother him in the beginning. As long as he didn’t have to see it, or know what actually goes on, or meet any of them, he was fine. Then Matthias came and he was cheerful and beautiful and Silas realized he actually cared probably had for a while now. About both of them.

If that isn’t an occasion for more booze, he doesn’t know what is. He’s about to take a drink of his new glass when someone suddenly shoves into him, spilling bourbon all down his perfect black suit. Silas just freezes, his eyes gone impossibly wide, eyebrows lifting to his hairline. His left eye twitches dangerously, and the guy turns to apologize, laughing a little when Silas fucking explodes.

“THE FUCK? Watch where the fuck you’re going, you goddamn bastard!” And normally he’d leave it at that, probably knock him over and leave, but Silas is already in a bad mood from thinking about Nate and Matthias, and he actually fucking liked the damn suit. So, he proceeds to take a swing at the guy, who’s really nothing more than a rowdy college student. His aim isn’t the best and he barely grazes the guy’s face before the guy gets his shit together and his Silas full on in the mouth.

Silas falls back, sagging against the bar and narrows his eyes as he rubs his chin, a feral snarl ripping from his throat as the wolf rises inside him, baring its teeth and snarling wildly.

This is gonna be good.

[Delaney]

Cheers erupt and although she grins, her shoulders tense as the crowd jostles around her. Apparently they were the favorite team here, whoever they were. Maybe she actually ought to focus on the screen better. Eh, then again, it was just football. The woman continues to sip on her drink. Football was nothing she had ever paid much attention to anyway. The shouts and beginnings of a fistfight, however, now that gets her attention.

Delaney steps off of the stool to stand and presses her back up against the bar. People move past, and through them, she can make out what's going. Dangit, it's headed her direction. One hand swipes forward to quickly grab her half-finished mug off the counter and cradle it close to her chest. Aw heck no, they wouldn't knock her drink over. She'd paid for this.

One of the men stumbles into the bar not far from her, and he'd just had a good one land on his jaw. Huh, he'd have a good mark there to show the wife back home, wouldn't he? Delaney assumes what Delaney assumes. His pain registers on her internal radar, as does the lesser pain of the glancing blow he managed to half land on the other man. An eye twitched. Ain't there enough pain in the world without throwing it at one another? Men were just as stupid as animals. Senseless.

Blue eyes look at his stained disheveled suit. A brow rose. Dang, he had cash to afford a getup like that. Too bad it was near ruined now. Ears hear the man growl, and she thinks to blame the alcohol for the odd noise. From the looks of things, this was only going to get worse. Don't count on her to help relieve pain caused like this. The woman snorts and rolls her eyes. An elbow rests on the counter while the other arm holds that drink close. She leans closer to the guy sagging against the bar.

Delaney throws in a fake wince for good measure, "Ooh, ouch." So she's not the nicest when she's downed half a glass. Eyes glance to the other fellow and she lowers her voice, "You'd better ease off, before you end up looking worse than that-" She pointed a lazy finger, "and gettin' kicked outta here." She threw a thumb over her shoulder for emphasis. Give him a few minutes, and they would haul him out the door. Eh, maybe it'd be fun to watch, if the blows didn't get to her first. Well, the woman still had half a glass to go.

Delaney snorts again and evens her gaze at the college kid. The woman comments with a smirk, voice louder now, "Havin' trouble holding your liquor, hun?" Seeing as it appeared to have been thrown all over the other man's fancy suit...

[Zephyr]

He’s still half sagging against the bar from where the guy had hit him. Eyes are wide and wild, and even though the kid isn’t hitting him again, he’s attempting to reign his wolf in, because it isn’t happy at the moment and he’s worked so hard to keep the goddamn thing locked away that he doesn’t need that ruined in a few seconds because of a fucking bar fight. He gets into bar fights all the goddamn time. This shouldn’t be any fucking different. And it might be because he’d already been feeling rotten before the guy had stumbled into him, but he’s fuming.

It probably isn’t the best time for some girl to be sidling up to him from further down the bar. Silas half straightens up, glaring at the kid, who just snorts at Silas, glares at the woman and walks up. His fists are tightened into white balls at his side, and if the girl hadn’t approached him, he probably would have gone after the bastard…which probably would result in him getting kicked out of one of the few bars he’s still allowed in. Something tells him that Nathan should be here with him and not off with Matthias somewhere, but he ignores it in favor of turning to glare at the girl.

“Whatever.” The word is snarled out as Silas rights his stool and slides back onto it, trying to catch the bartender’s gaze for another drink, but the man looks as irritated as Silas is at the moment and he isn’t getting any closer. “I’m used to getting kicked out of bars by now.” He offers to her, without looking at her. He’s still really goddamn frustrated at why the bartender isn’t bringing him another bourbon, and is seriously close to getting up and going to punch him too, but he keeps his fists held tight at his sides, his entire body stiff and taut as hell.

He knows he’s going to have to do something soon to get his mind off of what’s happening if he doesn’t want to get kicked out of this place too, which would suck. It isn’t the classiest bar he’s ever been to, with drunk college students and redneck football fans and all, but it isn’t an awful place, and he just like having places to go drink.

So, mostly for his own sanity, he shifts his gaze over to the girl, looking her over briefly before he growls out at her. “You weren’t watching the game.” He states flatly. Silas is more observant that he’d like people to believe. Just because he lives in an almost perpetual state of drunkenness to numb the hut doesn’t mean he lets everything slip by. “And you’re alone.” He eyes her drink, almost like he’d want to steal it and down the damn thing himself. “Why’re you here?”

Yeah. That might be a slightly personal question, but Silas has never been known for his tact and sensitivity, thanks. And this is no different.

[Delaney]

The amused lady snorts and takes a quick sip from her mug before cradling it protectively against her chest again with one hand. Getting himself kicked out might be the least of his problems if he went on back to swinging. Judging by those clenched fists, it looked like he might be thinking on it. Oh well, if the two had to resort to senseless violence after all, her bet would be on the other fella.

Naw, maybe there wouldn't be a full out fight tonight. Exhaling, eyes glance at the light fixtures overhead. She squints. Dang, it's too bright in here. Perhaps the lights aren't really all that blinding in here, but it hadn't exactly been smart to stare right at them. She decides to look back at the disheveled man, instead, who's finally made his way to the bar. He is much less offensive than the glaring bulbs, although he's glaring at her just the same. Delaney considers turning around from where she leans as he takes a seat, but she's comfortable enough as is. So it's not worth the little extra effort it would take to turn around. So what?

Seems like she's not the only one having an off day. No, why should anyone care for a bunch of stupid testosterone-fueled kids running amuck on a field? Way to point out the obvious, bud. Games never amounted to much other than momentary distraction in the long run. Shoulders hunch to shrug and her free hand twirls to lift from where it hangs off the bar ledge.

Lazy eyes stare at him for a moment more before a brow finally rose. His comment strikes home, and there's a wavering in her expression, before she quickly steadies the cocky grin, "Prob'ly for the same reasons as you, eh? The drinks are good." They sure did a good job of hushing the noise and dulling the senses; all of them. She inclines her mug briefly in his direction with a smug smile before lifting and tipping it back. That's all there was to it. Delaney's not so inclined to share the woes of her day with anyone. Same as every other sorry soul here tonight.

How 'bout it? "Mm'I right?" Sure, the woman could skirt around the subject and play it off fine. Oh wait, he wouldn't know a whole lot about the drinks here, since he'd yet to receive a glass from the bartender eyeing him. Oops, ha! Poor sap was probably still wondering whether or not to actually do anything about his little misunderstanding back there.

[ooc: I'm so sorry this is so laaaate. and crappy post]