bcrgamvts

[bcrgamvts]

"this  is  where  i  embarrassingly  admit  that  i've  never  actually  seen  hannibal  lecter.  though  i  assume  he  was  also  a  psychiatrist  for  that  to  be  an  assumption  he  jumped  to  ??"  danika  asked  in  thinly  veiled  amusement  at  what  she  was  just  told.  her  gaze  drops  to  the  rather  large  knife  in  his  hand,  comically  surrounded  by  the  watermelons  in  the  field  that  made  it  somehow  less  intimidating  as  an  object.  "was  the  help  cutting  up  the  watermelon  ??  in  my  mind  this  is  the  summer  answer  to  jack-o-lanterns,  but  i  imagine  carving  a  watermelon  is  much  harder."  danika  pauses  and  brings  a  hand  up  to  rub  the  back  of  her  neck.  "do  you  need  a  ride  back  ??  i  mean,  i  don't  have  a  drivers  license  but  i  can  call  an  uber.  maybe  help  you  think  up  an  alternative  costume  if  you're  still  not  jazzed  about  being  a  cannibal."

open to everyone! set the day before summerween...

"He said Hannibal Lector was good with knives and that since I'm also a psychiatrist, I must be good with knives." Sitting like a lost puppy in the middle of a field of watermelons in the town square, Rafael looked up. He did have a butcher knife in his hand and there was a 'doctor' in front of his name when he had the option. His shirt was even dyed red (pink) but it was from the watermelons he was trying to carve instead of his potential victims. "Leonard said he needed my help but then he drove me here on that decked out golf cart and left cackling. So no, I wouldn't say that I'm doing ok today but thank you for asking."

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halloween  had  always  been  one  of  charlie's  favorite  holidays  growing  up  (  if  not  sat  directly  at  the  top  of  his  list  )  due  to  the  anticipation  leading  up  to  whatever  he  ended  up  choosing  as  a  costume.  throw  in  some  candy  that  had  him  bouncing  off  the  walls  until  midnight  and  the  object  of  his  father's  irritation  each  time  he  had  to  come  into  charlie's  room  and  tell  him  to  knock  it  off  and  go  to  sleep.  adulthood  leaves  much  to  be  desired  in  regard  to  charlie's  sleep  schedule  and  his  proclivity  to  staying  inside  on  halloween  to  hand  out  candy.  he  can't  remember  the  last  time  he  went  out  for  a  party.  it's  why  charlie  told  himself  to  be  social  and  make  an  appearance  at  the  summerween  festival.  his  costume  choice  of  danny  zuko  was  easy  enough  by  throwing  on  a  leather  jacket  and  gelling  back  his  hair,  enough  to  claim  effort  even  if  minimal.  he's  focused  on  a  passing  citizen  in  a  full  mandelorian  get-up  and  only  notices  the  brunette  nearby  at  the  proximity  of  her  voice,  making  charlie  flinch  as  a  gut  reaction.  blue  hues  settle  on  the  booth,  taking  in  all  the  spooky  aesthetics  that  draw  one  in  to  tarot  reading.  "i've  never  actually  sat  down  for  one  of  these  before.  not  sure  if  i'm  a  skeptic  or  just  in  the  dark,"  he  says  to  her  mid  assessment  of  her  offerings.  "i'm  always  a  staunch  supporter  of  small  businesses,  so  throw  in  the  both  for  half  price  deal.  i'm  always  game  for  a  good  ghost  story.  though,  just  know  as  a  kid  i've  read  through  all  those  scary  stories  to  tell  in  the  dark  books,  so  if  you  pull  out  of  them  i'll  know."  charlie  jokes  lightly.  "which  do  you  wanna  do  first  ??  a  reading  or  the  story  ??"

open starter : giselle finch, accepting replies.

place : anywhere in town that works, during the summerween.

in  her  element  as  she  should  be,  giselle  took  it  upon  herself  to  set  up  a  little  fortune  -  telling  booth  on  the  corner  of  the  street.  a  lot  of  foot  traffic,  guaranteed.  she  had  two  offers  on  this  table,  one  for  a  single  tarot  card  pull  and  another  for  a  ghost  story.  or  both,  for  half  -  price.  if  there  was  something  that  she  embraced,  it  was  halloween  during  the  summertime  —  and  her  attire  reflected  this,  having  donned  her  most  black,  witch  -  adjacent  blouse  and  large  hoop  earrings.  she  even  broke  out  the  old  hat  from  depths  of  her  closet;  the  last  time  she  wore  this,  she  and  her  twin  had  acted  out  the  wizard  of  oz  in  their  room.  “don't  be  scared.  the  horrors  can't  get  you  too  much  in  broad  daylight.”  lips  red  as  a  rose,  so  on  and  so  forth.  a  small  basket  contained  several  varieties  of  crystals  from  her  shop,  and  a  few  tarot  decks  if  someone  was  looking  for  a  personal  purchase.  or  gift.  “besides,  i  promise  it's  all  in  good  fun!”

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charlie  has  heard  of  christmas  in  july  (  mainly  due  to  his  silent  penchant  for  the  hallmark  movie  channel  marathons  that  he  will  continue  to  never  tell  a  soul  about  ),  but  he’d  be  the  first  to  admit  that  halloween  in  july  was  an  event  he  was  in  the  dark  about.  halloween  used  to  be  his  favorite  holiday  back  when  he  was  a  teenager  and  the  idea  of  traipsing  around  in  a  carefully  planned  costume  into  the  wee  hours  of  the  morning  was  as  enticing  as  it  was  fun.  then  charlie  meandered  into  his  thirties  and  realized  the  joy  of  falling  asleep  by  10  o’clock  each  night.  he’d  say  it’s  an  age  thing  but  as  he  passes  by  leonard  at  the  booth,  he’s  realizing  it  may  just  be  a  him  thing.  halloween  was  seemingly  one  of  those  holidays  with  a  diehard  fanbase.  charlie  stops  at  the  other’s  words,  eyebrows  knitting  as  he  raises  a  hand  to  block  the  sun  from  his  eyes.  “is  it  similar  to  america’s  next  top  model  ??  i  was  told  in  college  i  had  a  killer  runway  walk,”  charlie  answers  in  good  humor  before  adding,  “and does  summerween  promote  democracy  or  do  we  have  to  prove  our  worth  to  the  opinion  of  one  ??”

open to all

setting: Friday, July 19th at Whimsy World's Summerween Event

Leonard was seated at the large booth just outside of the Haunted House in a proper throne. With a crown on his head. And a cape and scepter. Incidentally, things he already had lying around and not purchased specially for Summerween. Regardless, there was a clipboard resting on his leg and an elegant feathered pen in his left hand. "Now what makes you think you have what it takes to be Blue Harbor's Next Summerween Monarch?" He went back and forth on how to incorporate a non-binary term to replace 'king' since everyone deserved the chance to show off their spookiness (and he would always hold the title of king). Tyra Banks and Ru Paul both approved of the term though so Leonard was proud.

[bcrgamvts]

danika  has  a  moment  of  worry  where  she  thinks  she  caused  further  insult  to  injury  by  spilling  the  man’s  drink  all  over  him.  the  last  thing  she  needs  is  to  create  enemies  in  town.  well  …  surely  not  enemies,  but  someone  danika  would  linger  behind  a  display  shelf  of  something  in  the  local  grocery  store  to  avoid  crossing  paths  with.  new  york  was  kind  in  its  size  that  there  was  a  slim  likelihood  of  her  ever  running  into  the  shit  drivers  (  who  on  multiple  occasions  )  paying  no  mind  to  pedestrian  crossing  that  she  cursed  at  for  nearly  being  hit.  blue  harbor  on  the  other  hand.  people  here  thrived  on  building  close  relationships  and  comradery.  her  internal  monologing  and  worries  are  put  to  an  end  at  the  other’s  insistence,  her  gaze  dropping  to  the  dry  shirt  in  reference.  “that  definitely  puts  my  mind  at  ease  then,”  danika  breathes  out  as  relief  catches  up  to  her  and  she  slips  into  the  seat  beside  him.  she  lifts  a  hand  and  catches  the  bartender’s  attention.  “drink  is  on  me  so  whatever  you  want  whether  that’s  a  beer  or  anything  else.  also,  definitely  no  more  koala-bearing.  if  i  slip  on  a  spill  again  then  i’ll  be  sure  to  aim  for  the  floor  in  my  descent.”  the  last  bit  is  a  joke  and  chocolate  hues  flicker  over  to  him,  lips  quirking  upward  to  signify  such.  then  the  bartender  appears  and  danika  orders.  “i’ll  have  a  glass  of  whichever  johnnie  walker  you  have  and  whatever  my  friend  here  wants.”

"It's cool-" Jack muttered... or, well, he tried to. The brush-off was cut short as a torrent of words spilled from his assailant's mouth. He hadn't expected such an explanation, let alone an offer for a new drink. The old glass hung empty from his finger tips above the bar, only a few amber drops wetting the bottom. He'd finished it long before she'd made any contact with him. Half a second passed, a moment of consideration in which he contemplated just going with it and cashing in, but then the image of Grace's disapproving look flashed up in the back of his mind and he just sighed. "No really, all dry, see?" He tugged on the hem of his shirt, exhibiting the splash-free fabric with an awkward shrug. "...Wouldn't say no to another drink though, so long as you don't, uh, 'koala bear' me again." Okay, so he wasn't a saint and maybe he was taking advantage of a stranger's kindness, but at least he'd been honest.

➥ danika @bcrgamvts

[bcrgamvts]

the  situation  at  hand  felt  oddly  surreal  while  also  holding  humor  to  it.  because  what  are  the  chances  of  her  ending  up  sitting  in  a  seat  across  from  this  …  this  mysterious  stranger  where  flirting  seemed  to  be  his  natural  default  setting  ??  danika  briefly  felt  like  she  was  transported  into  one  of  those  romance  novels  her  sister  forced  her  to  read  the  last  time  she  visited  her  in  new  york.  his  response  manages  to  get  a  laugh  bubbling  out  past  her  lips  and  danika  watches  him  in  amusement.  “you  say  that  now.  wait  until  you  have  a  conversation  with  them  in  their  pack.  there’s  nothing  more  feral  than  middle  aged  women  around  younger  attractive  men,”  danika  answers,  shaking  her  head  lightly  and  taking  a  sip  from  her  latte.  her  head  nods  almost  immediately  when  he  asks  if  she  wants  to  see  more  and  maybe  she  should  feel  sheepish,  but  she  always  appreciated  good  art.  danika  realizes  her  silence  then  adds,  “if  you  don’t  mind.”  she  knows  sharing  art  with  anyone  can  be  something  deeply  personal  and  with  plenty  of  artistic  friends  back  home,  danika  understands  not  everyone  is  readily  opening  themselves  and  their  art  for  opinions.  she  accepts  the  offered  sketchpad  with  a  small,  close-lipped  smile  and  flips  to  the  next  page.  “maybe  you’re  not  showing  your  art  to  the  right  people  then,”  danika  offers,  her  tone  laced  in  light  teasing  as  dark  hues  flicker  back  up  to  him.  “but  i  suppose  people  don’t  have  to  be  esteemed  art  critics  to  recognize  skill  and  want  it  on  them  forever.”  she  pauses  in  consideration.  “i  imagine  it  must  be  fulfilling  to  know  your  art  lives  a  life  outside  of  your  sketchpad  and  on  so  many  people.”

Oliver glances over his shoulder in the direction of the table full of women, brushing his tongue along his lower lip before he turns to look back at her. "Is that supposed to be scary?" He teases, tapping his finger against the page in front of him. He knows he could instantly make up a tattoo that reminded him of her but he assumes that would be too much of a flirt. Sometimes people didn't even catch on to him flirting so the fact she had was enough to make the grin remain on his features. "Do you want to look at more?" He asks, picking up his sketchpad and holds it out to her. There were a bunch of different stylings, tattoo ideas, and more. He never stuck to one aesthetic, it always bored him not to expand to all designs. "I like the compliment. No one has ever told me how good my lines are." He smirks. "Professionally, I work at the parlor."

@bcrgamvts

[bcrgamvts]

if  there’s  one  thing  charlie  can  appreciate  about  his  friendship  with  lainey  is  that  even  with  time  spanning  on  the  longer  side  since  they  last  spoke  (  or  actually  even  saw  each  other  ),  it  doesn’t  really  feel  like  it.  as  a  teenager  he  never  really  understood  when  he  would  hear  his  parents  or  other  adults  claim  time  got  away  from  them,  but  now  in  his  thirties  he’s  starting  to  get  an  understanding.  throw  in  the  fact  that  he  went  ghost  on  so  many  of  his  friends  in  the  year  of  his  recovery  post  knee  surgery,  charlie  finds  himself  to  be  understanding  of  patchy  communication  skills.  amusement  dances  across  his  features  as  lainey  makes  herself  comfortable  plucking  from  his  lunch  and  charlie  rests  his  chin  in  his  palm,  silently  watching.  “my  mom  always  told  me  when  i  was  younger  that  my  eyes  were  bigger  than  my  stomach.  guess  she  was  right,”  he  answers  in  response,  mirth  lacing  his  tone.  “as  you  said,  works  out  in  your  favor.”   charlie  knew  bringing  up  his  parents  even  in  a  throwaway  comment  was  a  slippery  slope.  especially  when  the  hawthorne’s  were  so  well  known  around  town.  he  shifts  his  seat  and  drops  his  hand,  instead  choosing  to  feign  interest  shuffling  around  the  nachos  in  hopes  of  finding  one  with  a  sufficient  amount  of  toppings.  “you’ve  met  them  before.  not  exactly  the  baking  chocolate  chip  cookies  and  offering  advice  to  your  shit  day  type.”  charlie  ends  up  picking  up  a  plain  nacho  chip  and  snaps  it  evenly  down  the  middle  before  taking  a  small  bite  of  one  half.  “not  sure  if  i’ve  told  you  before  or  if  you  know,  but  i  work  at  an  architecture  firm  in  chicago.  not  working  here  in  town  alongside  my  father  and  cementing  the  hawthorne  legacy  leaves  family  christmases  a  bit  strained,”  charlie  concedes  unable  to  keep  the  undercurrent  of  bitterness  out  of  his  voice.  blue  hues  flicker  up  at  her  comment  and  his  lips  are  unable  to  stop  from  twitching  upward  into  a  ghost  of  a  smile.  “should  i  be  honored  that  you  found  me  and  made  time  for  a  pit  stop  ??  “  he  jokes.  “if  your  answer  is  yes  then  it  would  be.  but  you  know  you’re  always  welcome  over.”  a  playful  smirk  takes  over  his  features.  “what’s  that  saying  ??  my  food  is  your  food  and  my  house  is  your  house  ??  something  like  that.”

Lainey smiled easily, grateful for the unspoken acceptance of their less-than-stellar track record of staying in touch. She knew it was a two-way street, but she also knew she had a tendency to become unreachable, to disappear off the face of the planet for months at a time. Sometimes, her own dad has to call a friend or a client to get through to her-- so it surely wasn't personal. But she relished relationships like hers and Charlie's, or hers and CJ's, where she could pop in and out without a lecture, without missing a beat.

Plucking a generously-loaded chip off of Charlie's nacho plate, Lainey took a bite and helped herself to a sip of his Coke to wash it down. "Thanks, bud," she smiled, turning forward to face him. "Your poor judgement is another man's lunch, or whatever they say," she joked. "No?" Lainey asked, resting her head on her hand, tilted to the side. "What's up with that?" Maybe they weren't close enough anymore to prod, but intrusive questions were one of Lainey's love languages, right alongside not being pissed off when she goes off-grid.

"It can be," Lainey agreed, plucking another nacho off the plate. "But you know me, I love being in the know." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck with Charlie's goodwill. "Almost a month now. Getting settled and all before I made my rounds... but it sounds like you're inviting me over for dinner."

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suddenly  danika  feels  like  she’s  back  in  college  where  she  oftentimes  ran  off  of  coffee  fumes  and  the  sheer  determination  of  elle  woods.  not  that  she  could  ever  pursue  something  as  intense  as  law  when  her  childhood  consisted  of  letting  her  imagination  run  wild  through  both  writing  and  her  drawings  alike.  she’s  grateful  that  she’s  able  to  pursue  both  now  in  her  adult  life  (  given,  they’re  different  jobs  entirely  even  if  they  both  have  her  wanting  to  tear  her  hair  out  at  their  own  respective  times  ),  even  if  the  deadlines  start  to  feel  like  a  metaphorical  shadow  looming  over  her  shoulder.  or  the  monster  under  her  bed.  not  everything  will  be  peaches  and  rainbows  despite  doing  what  you  love  for  a  living.  video  game  development  with  its  long  hours,  constant  reworkings,  and  tight  deadlines  left  much  to  be  desired,  but  danika  thought  it  was  oddly  worth  it  once  you  saw  your  art  applied  within  a  game  as  others  played.  daunting  but  thrilling.  danika  is  broken  out  of  her  train  of  thought  once  the  other  speaks  again  and  chocolate  hues  blink  rapidly  before  focusing  on  the  salad  being  held  up.  “salad  is  much  healthier  than  what  i  had  in  mind,  but  you’re  giving  me  motivation  to  put  effort  in  compared  to  my  original  idea  of  ramen,”  danika  chuckles  and  reaches  to  the  refrigerated  section  to  grab  one  of  the  pre-made  cobb  salads.  “are  you  on  your  lunch  break  too  or  just  restocking  on  snacks  ??”  the  comment  about  dehydration  is  right  in  making  danika  feel  sheepish.  “i  think  you’re  right.  my  boss  would  more  annoyed  than  concerned  by  my  withering  into  a  husk  since  i’m  pretty  sure  he  has  a  tempurpedic  cot  in  his  office.  that’s  if  he’s  not  secretly  a  robot  and  just  puts  himself  in  his  charging  port  at  the  end  of  every  day.”

Dahlia could sympathize with the other’s struggle. At her descriptions, Lia had flashbacks to her time in college and the trap of deadlines and convenience that had a way of keeping people from taking proper care of themselves. “Smart choice,” she nodded as the other declined to go for slushies. “Jesus,” Lia muttered under her breath as she realized the other woman had gone basically an entire day without eating anything. She looked at the options available in the ready-to-go section, trying to find something that wouldn’t take too long to prepare. Her eyes landed on a pre-made chicken caesar salad. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it was better than another cup of coffee. “Here, how about this?” Dahlia suggested as she held up the salad. “It’s quick, easy, and actually food. Plus, I’m sure having something green right now wouldn’t hurt.” As she said the words, Lia’s eyes glanced over to the slushie machine. She really hadn’t eaten much better that day herself, so she was starting to second guess her own decision for slushies. “Don’t think you’ll make your deadline if you pass out from hunger and dehydration.”

[bcrgamvts]

charlie  accepts  the  money  exchange  and  watches  in  amusement  as  the  show  unravels  in  front  of  him.  audience  participation  was  never  something  that  called  out  to  charlie  despite  his  proclivity  in  high  school  to  being  the  class  clown  and  center  of  attention  (  not  due  to  vanity  or  anything,  just  his  yapping  abilities  that  went  hand  in  hand  with  his  position  as  captain  of  the  soccer  team  ).  he  liked  being  in  control  of  the  situation  where  he  put  himself  out  there  and  crowd  interactions  with  any  performer  left  too  many  instances  for  a  shoe  to  drop.  so  charlie  likes  hanging  back  and  seeing  people  enjoy  themselves  as  much  as  they  are.  it’s  why  he  was  willing  to  swap  bills  for  the  dark  haired  man  to  get  a  moment  to  interact  with  claire  with  how  enthused  he  seemed  to  be.  charlie  grins  over  at  him  once  she  shimmies  away.  “i  think  you  might  be  her  new  favorite  fan,  dude.”  he  says  with  a  good  natured  laugh.  the  offer  of  a  beer  has  him  perk  up  and  charlie  extends  his  arm  out.  “lead  the  way.  you  don’t  have  to  pull  my  arm  about  a  free  beer.  glad  you  were  able  to  get  your  moment  though.”  charlie  sets  out  as  they  maneuver  their  way  out  of  the  growing  crowd.  “have  you  seen  her  perform  before  ??”

Pleasantly surprised that his fellow concert-goer was actually carrying cash ( who even did that nowadays? ), Daniel nodded and reached into his wallet to provide him the twenty-dollar bill to exchange. “These will work perfectly – just have to show my appreciation!” he said, a sense of child-like excitement filling him. Daniel moved to the front of the stage, arm in the air holding the folded-up ten-dollar bill. He’d never personally tipped a performer before (always handing the bills to Jia or another friend), but the energy in the air made him feel a bold and a little adventurous.  After a moment or so, Clare saw him and strutted her way to him, her sequined outfit sparkling under the stage lights. With a playful flick of her wrist, Clare Voyant accepted the tip. “Honey, with tips like these, you’re keeping me in glitter for life!” she quipped, eliciting laughter and applause from the crowd. Daniel blushed, feeling the warmth of the crowd’s reaction wash over him. He nodded at her, laughing good-naturedly and watched as she continued with her performance and collecting additional tips. As he made his way back to his previous spot in the crowd, he made eye contact with the man who’d offered him the cash, and pointed at him. “I owe you a beer, friend! Or whatever drink you want from one of the stands. That was all because of you!” Daniel called out, grinning brightly. This was what Pride was all about – celebrating together and creating memories to last a lifetime.

[bcrgamvts]

danika  has  to  think  that  her  current  situation  is  some  kind  of  frustrating  learning  experience  …  or  a  punishment.  for  what  exactly  she  isn’t  quite  sure,  but  it  definitely  has  to  be  some  cosmic  lesson  sent  her  way.  whether  it  be  for  something  she  did  in  a  past  life  or  maybe  she  accidentally  elbowed  an  elderly  woman  when  walking  in  a  rush  on  the  streets  of  new  york.  micah’s  presence  lessens  the  overall  bite  of  the  situation.  he’s  a  sweet  kid  and  for  as  much  as  she  longs  to  be  back  amongst  the  brownstones  of  the  upper  west  side,  having  micah  across  from  her  feels  a  little  bit  like  home  away  from  home.  a  comforting  companion  in  the  way  that  ravi  would  be  if  it  were  him  sitting  with  her.  his  offers  has  a  gentle  smile  pull  at  danika’s  features.  “you’re  a  sweetheart,”  she  replies  in  earnest  before  adding  with  a  slight  wave  of  her  hand.  “i  think  ravi  would  give  me  the  silent  treatment  if  he  found  out  that  we  were  roommates  before  you  and  he  could  be.”  danika  laughs  and  eats  another  fragmented  part  of  her  bagel.  “i  might  actually  take  you  up  on  that  offer  sooner  than  you  might  think.  more  so,  hanging  out  rather  than  kicking  you  out  of  your  own  bed  and  making  you  sleep  on  the  floor.  i’d  feel  too  bad.  but  how  do  you  feel  about  karaoke  ??” the  mention  of  micah’s  father  gives  her  a  moment  of  pause,  peering  at  the  younger  from  under  her  eyelashes  as  she  chooses  to  fiddle  with  her  iced  latte,  swirling  the  straw  around  the  drink  and  mixing  in  the  caramel  syrup  settling  at  the  bottom.  she’s  aware  in  a  broad  sense  of  micah’s  father,  never  having  really  met  the  guy  but  she  knows  stand  up  is  where  micah’s  true  interest  lies  rather  than  law.  he’s  always  been  funny,  even  when  they  grew  up  alongside  one  another  and  having  made  danika  laugh  more  times  than  she  can  count.  it’s  for  those  reasons  that  she  holds  a  moderate  dislike  for  micah’s  father,  though  it’s  one  she  won’t  ever  vocalize  considering  it’s  hardly  her  place  to  say  such  an  opinion.  she  sips  her  drink  and  stays  silent.  “are  you  at  the  point  where  you’re  choosing  classes  in  a  specific  field  of  law  ??  i’m  sure  you  look  dapper  in  one  of  those  fancy  corporate  suits  like  they  wear  in  law  procedural  shows  if  you  have  to  wear  them  for  your  internship.  unless  i’m  thinking  of  those  british  law  schools  and  their  legacy  rules.”  danika  stops  her  stirring  at  micah’s  next  comment.  while  she  was  fortunate  to  have  parents  whose  love  and  marriage  persisted  after  many  years  and  to  this  day,  she  understands  micah's  circumstances.  divorce  is  never  a  fun  ordeal  and  especially  so  when  it  happens  when  you’re  young.  “hey,”  danika  starts,  tone  more  serious  as  she  leans  slightly  forward  with  a  frown  to  look  at  micah.  “it’s  not  pathetic,  so  don’t  even  think  of  it  like  that.  it’s  normal  to  want  your  parents  close  by  and  enjoy  having  them  both  being  a  short  distance  away  from  you.  even  if  it’s  not  family  dinner  then  it’s  still  something.”

micah has been through his fair share of sticky situations in relationships, to put it lightly, but he can't say he's ever been in one as danika, caught between being stranded in the midwest with an ex or losing some money. "catch twenty-two," he offers by way of empathy. "listen, if i knew, i would've switched with you when i was still lookin' for a place." ruairi's not a bad roommate at all; also having a kid around the apartment made for some interesting times and no shortage of things to do. but if danika needed a scapegoat, he would've been her man. "if you ever need a tension buffer, just give me a call, alright?" it's like a bit he wrote once back in college: gay best friend periodically interrupts his best friend getting broken up with in a coffee shop only to reveal that he and the best friend's boyfriend had been fucking behind her back. actually, maybe it's not like that at all. "or just drop by the apartment, i'm sure ruairi won't mind you spendin' the night. i can sleep on the floor, it's no biggie."

sipping his iced latte through the paper straw (god, he hated these things; he's such a slow drinker, it always ends up breaking in his drink, but it's good for the environment and all that stuff he'd already publicly claimed to care about), he mumbles, "i'm sure my dad can tell you all about that," on the matter of moving to your partner's hometown. but the guy's loaded, so his staying in blue harbor was more of a personal choice than it was a financial one. "the plan was just for the summer or so. least 'til my internship at my dad's firm is over. or until i do enough law courses to make 'em think i'm taking the law thing seriously again. whichever comes first." he shrugs, setting his drink down and wiping the cold moisture on his fingers against his jean-clad knee. "but it's... weird. this is the first time both my parents are living close enough to buy their shit at the same grocery store in like, twenty-five years. i think it's a good thing, know what i mean? and it's pathetic, but..." he chuckles, shaking his head at himself for even admitting it out loud, "but i kinda wanna make the most of it. you know, while it lasts."

[bcrgamvts]

danika  has  been  to  her  fair  share  of  pride  events  in  new  york  city  come  june  each  year  and  it  was  truly  something  she  looked  forward  to.  the  overall  environment  was  always  one  of  acceptance  and  joy  —    just  people  looking  to  enjoy  themselves  in  a  place  where  they  were  in  a  community  of  others  who  understood.  it  took  danika  some  time  to  fully  be  loud  and  proud  of  her  own  bisexuality  after  some  choice  belittling  comments  from  old  exes  who  were  irrelevant  and  thought  it  was  a  phase.  blue  harbor  is  certainly  not  new  york  city  …  it’s  much  smaller  for  starters,  and  danika  can’t  help  but  feel  a  little  homesick,  longing  for  the  familiarity  of  pride  in  new  york.  but  she  has  to  suck  it  up  ‘cause  she’s  not  here  to  kill  her  own  vibe  or  anyone  else’s  and  especially  not  when  the  event  is  meant  to  be  one  of  happiness.  there’s  no  time  like  the  present,  right  ??  and  what  better  way  to  get  more  familiar  with  the  people  in  town  then  join  in  on  the  fun  ??  it’s  why  she  accepts  the  drink  from  whoever’s  beside  her,  already  a  little  loose  from  a  shot  of  liquid  confidence  a  couple  minutes  prior.  “i  was  about  to  ask  you  the  same  thing,”  danika  answers  with  a  laugh  and  accepts  the  offered  drink.  “you  probably  know  better  than  i  do  where  the  fun  is.”  she  takes  a  sip  from  the  drink  and  her  nose  immediately  scrunches.  “is  that  rum  ??  i  wasn’t  expecting  that  from  a  drink  that  looks  like  you  just  mushed  different  colored  play-do’s  together.  kind  of  reminds  me  of  one  of  those  secret  menu  starbucks  drinks.”  despite  her  commentary,  danika  takes  another  slip,  mindful  to  pace  herself  according  to  his  suggestion.  “what  number  drink  is  that  for  you  ??”

Open Starter: Pride Event

Nerves weren't something that Dante ever felt when it came to performing. The stage was like his second home. Inviting and oh-so encouraging. Anything he did was a form on art up there. Once his fingers graced his guitar and his gaze fell upon the crowd an entire different Dante emerged. While he originally planned on ending his music career when his grandma passed, Dante was plagues by the thoughts of her scolding him from beyond the grave. His pawpaw was more than eager to remind him of that constantly, which he greatly appreciated, but there was no way Dante was leaving the state any time soon. Performing at home though? That brought back so many good memories from his start. From practicing around with the band, to performing their very first show together. Dante remembered just how excited they had all been that first night. "Where should we go first?" Dante asked, handing them a drink and sipping his own, "I have no clue what it is, by the way. One of the plenty cocktails from The Labyrinth today. Drunken Barney? - I think was the name. Super tasty though, so slow sips. You know how they tend to creep up."

[bcrgamvts]

it’s  been  just  over  a  decade  since  charlie  became  aware  of  his  bisexuality  and  slowly  settled  into  it.  high  school  was  enough  of  a  hurdle  on  its  own  to  jump  over,  but  mix  in  discovering  he  was  attracted  to  boys  in  his  grade  just  as  much  as  certain  girls  ...  and  it  was  certainly  a  confusing  time.  college  certainly  helped  him  carve  out  aspects  of  his  identity  as  he  had  the  freedom  of  being  away  from  blue  harbor  and  in  a  different  state  entirely  for  those  four  years.  any  kind  of  self-acceptance  and  being  confident  in  oneself  is  a  journey.  charlie’s  been  well  aware  of  such  a  fact  for  years  as  he  attended  a  multitude  of  pride  events,  albeit  more  of  an  observer  than  an  active  participant  in  some  of  the  festivities.  less  to  do  with  any  type  of  shame  in  his  sexuality  —    just  him  being  unsure  of  where  to  step  in  and  be  involved.  it  felt  different  than  the  high  school  or  college  parties  he’d  find  himself  at  the  center  of.  being  an  observer  enjoying  the  events  instead  of  being  smack  in  the  center  was  nice  and  it  meant  that  he  got  to  watch  the  drag  show  at  the  rally  stage  among  the  excitement  in  the  crowd.  charlie  knows  he’s  been  to  one  or  two  drag  shows  in  chicago,  but  his  memory  is  a  but  muddled  from  the  amount  of  drinks  he  had  those  nights. nevertheless,  memory  or  not,  it  didn’t  take  away  from  the  raw  charismatic  force  that  was  clare  voyant  dancing  on  the  stage.  charlie  was  a  confident  guy,  but  nowhere  near  her  ability  to  put  on  a  show  as  she  was.  even  if  her  song  choice  wasn’t  his  particular  favorite  (  meghan  trainor  never  particularly  stood  out  to  him  as  a  strong  pop-star  contender  ).  even  so,  the  show  was  enjoyable  and  her  costume  looked  like  it  took  real  dedication  in  time  and  effort.  there’s  so  many  sparkles.  he’s  nodding  his  head  along  to  the  song,  enjoying  the  performance  of  a  lifetime  that  clare  is  giving  when  the  person  beside  him  speaks  up  and  charlie  turns  to  him.  “she’s  certainly  captivating,”  he  offers  as  a  response,  smile  twisting  at  the  ends  of  his  lips.  his  question  has  charlie  pull  his  wallet  out  from  his  back  pocket  where  he  holds  up  a  ten  bill  and  two  fives.  “not  sure  if  you’re  looking  for  singles  or  if  these  will  do  ??  but  you  can  have  these  if  they  work  just  as  well.”

WHO: open starter !!WHERE: rally stage WHEN: june 23rd, 7:34PM

Pride was Daniel’s favorite holiday. It was a time that not only helped him celebrate his sister, but also a time to reflect on several decades of self-discovery and coming to terms with his own identity. Spending most of his life thinking of himself as a straight man, and then at the ripe-old age of 35 coming to terms that he was, in fact, not had been a lot. But he’d settled comfortably into his queer identity and figuring out what it all meant to him. All that to say, Pride represented so much to him, there really was no match for his favorite time of year.  As the sun began to fall, Daniel rushed through the crowds towards the Rally Stage where the much-anticipated Drag Showcase was set to begin soon. The crowds were buzzing with excitement and chatter and Daniel weaved through to secure a spot near the front. The show began and the first performer, Clare Voyant, took to the stage sparkling in a bedazzling sequined outfit. Daniel’s eyes shimmered as the opening notes of Meghan Trainor’s ‘Me Too’ blasted out of the speakers. Clare’s stage presence was utterly captivating as she lip-synced and danced across the stage. At one point, Clare was on his side of the stage and Daniel swore she made eye contact with him and winked. His cheeks flushed, a giddy feeling in his chest at the attention, and he immediately turned to the person that found themselves beside him. “God, I have a crush,” Daniel laughed. “Sorry to ask, do you have change for a twenty?”

[bcrgamvts]

danika  can  count  on  one  hand  the  amount  of  times  she’s  inhabited  o’shea’s  irish  pub  and  she’s  hoping  it  stays  that  way.  not  for  her  own  dislike  of  the  pub  —  it’s  actually  quite  nice  in  terms  of  interior  decoration  and  general  vibe,  but  more  to  do  with  her  first  instance  at  the  place  was  the  direct  night  after  calling  off  her  engagement.  so  …  not  very  happy  experiences  were  found  at  the  bar  top  where  she  guzzled  vodka  cranberries  like  they  were  water.  they  most  definitely  were  not  water  if  her  hangover  the  next  day  was  anything  to  go  by.  though,  danika  was  nothing  if  not  a  supportive  friend  and  with  the  small  amount  she  currently  has  in  blue  harbor,  she  took  unexpectedly  running  into  damian  as  a  sign.  her  love  life  may  have  failed  spectacularly  with  the  past  five  years  spiraling  down  into  the  toilet,  but  who  was  she  to  stand  in  the  way  as  a  possible  wingwoman  for  damian  ??  given,  her  position  at  the  bar  a  few  seats  down  had  little  to  do  with  hyping  up  her  friend  (  she  was  certain  that  damian  was  able  to  charm  a  date  with  his  humor  and  freakishly  long  eyelashes  alone  )  and  more  as  an  emergency  option  in  case  things  were  shit. such  date  is  seemingly  late  as  damian  checks  his  phone  again  while  danika  peers  at  him  from  her  peripheral  vision.  she’s  sipping  at  her  shirley  temple  (  whether  it’s  her  second  for  the  night  is  whatever  —    grenadine  was  delicious  and  she  was  always  a  sucker  for  the  maraschino  cherries  )  while  automatically  pressing  down  on  the  rolling  dice  in  her  open  app  game  of  monopoly  go.  her  attention  perks  at  the  sound  of  damian’s  voice,  wondering  if  the  date  finally  showed  up,  but  realizing  he  was  only  talking  to  her  when  she  glances  over.  “well,  i  don’t  think  anyone  is  really  judging  someone’s  dental  hygiene  at  the  bar  when  they  all  smell  like  beer  and  peanut  salt,”  danika  answers,  but  nevertheless  fishes  into  her purse  that’s  hanging  off  the  claw  under  the  bar  top  and  pulls  out  a  dispenser  of  tic-tac’s.  “if  i’m  gonna  be  honest,  there  might  be  an  explosion  in  your  mouth  from  the  taste  combination  of  sprite  and  tic-tac’s.  unless  i’m  thinking  of  altoids.”  her  tone  is  kept  light  in  an  attempt  to  alleviate  any  nerves  damian  may  have  from  his  date’s  tardiness.  she  extends  out  the  container  with  raised  eyebrows.  “i’m  sure  your  breath  isn’t  that  bad.”

x. status -> open starter x. location -> o'shea's irish pub

Bars. Damian hates how commonplace bars have become as the prime location for a first date. And everything else, really. Want to hang out? Let's go to a bar. Want to meet up? Let's go to a bar. Still want to talk after dinner? Let's head to a bar. It's bad enough having to sit surrounded by the one substance he's quite literally spent the past six years struggling to keep away from — but having to explain to a person he's only just meeting for the first time why he's not having a drink with them, too? He'd rather spend the evening stabbing at his eye with a pencil.

Still. He'd promised Sofia he'd "put himself out there" at least twice a month, and he doesn't know how she finds out whether or not he's lying, but she does. It's as impressive as it is terrifying. He wouldn't be surprised if his sister had hired spies to follow him around, or something. Either way, he's here now, nursing a Sprite (the bartender had given him a dirty look when he'd tried just ordering a water, so he did what he had to do, alright) at the bar and checking his phone for the fifth time to try and get an ETA from this app-date.

Still nothing. He sighs and locks his phone, then surreptitiously does a breath check. His lips curl into a disgusted frown — did bar peanuts really do this? Seriously? He looks to his left and leans over at the person nearest to him, waving awkwardly. "Hey, sorry to bother," he clears his throat. "Do you happen to have a mint or something? I've just smelled my own breath and am lucky I didn't pass out."

[bcrgamvts]

charlie  isn’t  entirely  sure  when  he  became  an  errand  boy  for  his  sister,  but  he  knows  if  he  were  to  point  out  his  seemingly  new  occupation  to  her  she’d  shrug  and  tell  him  that  he  can’t  complain  when  she’s  the  only  one  in  their  family  he  can  tolerate.  which  …  is  true.  but  it  also  means  that  he  gets  random  texts  from  her  to  pick  up  her  dry  cleaning  when  he’s  back  from  work  since  it’s  on  his  way  home.  despite  the  fact  he  commutes  daily  to  chicago  and  would  prefer  to  just  rest  when  he’s  home.  charlie  is  quite  fond  of  not  being  on  the  receiving  end  of  a  death  stare  from  his  sister  or  the  head  slaps  she  gives  him  on  occasion.  so  instead  he’s  sucking  it  up  and buying  dog  food  that  she’s  running  low  on  with  the  silver  lining  of  seeing  said  dog  (  more  horse  than  anything  else  with  the  size  of  the  damn  thing.  charlie  is  a  bit  weak  when  it  comes  to  seeing  murdock  since  the  bernese  mountain  dog  is  a  gentle  giant  and  it  allows  him  the  companionship  of  a  pet  without  the  responsibility  ). he’s  trekking  through  the  pet  shop,  eyes  glued  to  his  phone  as  he  searches  through  past  messages  with  his  sister  where  she  mentioned  the  brand  name  of  the  food  she  gets.  charlie  is  just  a  bit  lost  when  it  comes  to  where  exactly.  he’s  broken  out  of  his  mission  at  the  sound  of  a  voice  nearby  speaking  to  him.  when  he  looks  up  and  sees  it’s  rory,  a  smile  easily  filters  across  his  features.  “i  don’t  even  have  a  six  year  old,  so  i  have  no  excuse  for  the  amount  of  times  i  catch  myself  talking  to  no  one,”  he  jokes  as  a  chuckle  bubbles  out  past  his  lips.  “i  take  it  annie  isn’t  too  far.  what’s  she  manage  to  wrangle  you  into  this  time  ??”

x. status -> open starter x. location -> happy tails

In lieu of a dog, Rory's promised Annie a guinea pig. He'd figured it'd be easier upkeep than a dog, at least — less strain on the bills, and still something Annie could pick up and spoil. The compromise was settled the day before yesterday, though you'd think it'd been a fortnight instead with how long Annie's been deliberating between guinea pigs. Rory sees no difference in any of them, frankly — there's a brown one, and a white one, and a brown and white one — but you'd think they were each from a different planet, with how closely his six-year-old's inspecting them.

“You know the store won’t be open forever, monkey,” he reminds his daughter, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’ll need to make up your mind soon.”

Annie hums thoughtfully for the umpteenth time. “Just a sec,” she tells him. Just a sec. She’s picked that up recently, just a sec. Probably at school, or from one of her friends. She repeats it incessantly, and sounds proud every time she says it out loud. She looks up at the poor floor attendant that’s been hovering awkwardly behind them for quite some time now. “Can I see the hamsters?”

Rory sighs. “The hamsters?” Annie looks up at him pleadingly, and like the very brave and indomitable man he is, he gestures his permission for the attendant to lead Annie across the aisle, where the hamsters are kept. He stays a couple of feet away, still within eyesight, and eyes the guinea pigs sympathetically. “Tough luck, there, buds. Looks like you might be sticking around longer than you thought.”

He doesn’t realize someone’s near enough to him to listen to him speak to animals that will not, in fact, speak back to him, until he catches them through his peripheral. He clears his throat, smiles apologetically. “Sorry,” he tells them. “You hang out with a six-year-old for long enough, you’ll find yourself talking to just about anything that breathes.”

[bcrgamvts]

the  goal  itself  was  fairly  simple  —  find  something  quick  and  easy  to  make  so  that  she  could  have  lunch  and  not  resort  to  just  making  another  coffee  out  of  laziness.  that’s  how  her  day  has  been  since  starting  her  work  day  from  her  home  office.  danika  will  say  it’s  in  part  of  the  strict  deadline  approaching  for  her  character  designs  …  cooking  took  more  time  than  brewing  another  pot  of  coffee.  except  now  her  stomach  was  in  tangles,  she  was  mildly  dehydrated,  and  she  needed  to  eat  something  to  absorb  all  the  excess  caffeine.  if  that’s  how  the  human  body  and  science  worked.  “slushies  are  tempting,  but  i  may  save  those  for  another  day,”  danika  replies,  her  gaze  staying  locked  on  the  machine  and  betraying  her  words.  she  shakes  her  head  and  looks  at  the  brunette  beside  her,  lowering  her  hands.  well,  shoves  them  in  her  sweatshirt  pockets  to  hide  her  fidgeting.  “i  would  say  maybe,  like,  dinner  last  night  ??”  danika  pauses  with  eyebrows  knitting  in  thought  before  nodding  in  confirmation.  “last  night,  yeah.  to  be  fair,  i  woke  up  late  this  morning  and  i  work  from  home,  and  there’s  this  deadline  approaching.  so  coffee  was  easy  to  make  and  one  became  two  and  two  became  three  and  here  i  am.  searching  for  food.  i’m  hoping  something  relatively  filling  will  absorb  the  mess  in  my  stomach.”

She’d just finished with a visit to her dad’ place, and found herself craving a red slushie from Dreamland. She’d been standing in front of the machine trying to decide what size cup she wanted when she heard someone ask a question. Dahlia turned her head, and saw the woman’s hand before following the (albeit shaky) limb up to the other’s face. “‘Fraid so,” Dahlia commented with a nod. “If you were aiming to switch to slushies, I’d advise against it. I don’t think sugar’s gonna help your situation right now.” It was a light hearted joke, but now, Lia was intrigued. “Can I ask what required three plus coffees? And when’s the last time you ate something…?” Her eyes narrowed as she tried sizing the other up. “...that didn’t com out of a vending machine?” 

@bcrgamvts

[bcrgamvts]

while  the  weather  was  proving  to  be  a  great  day  for  the  pride  event,  it  certainly  was  doing  a  number  on  charlie.  he  came  prepared  with  sunglasses  to  keep  the  sun  out  of  his  eyes  and  made  sure  to  cover  every  inch  of  exposed  skin  (  face  included  )  with  sunscreen,  so  he  didn’t  come  out  of  today  resembling  a  lobster.  one  less  thing  his  sister  could  clown  him  on  the  next  time  he  saw  her.  his  stomach  started  making  its  unhappy  presence  known  two  hours  in  and  eager  to  sit  down  for  some  rest,  he  managed  to  get  in  line  for  tres  amigos  before  the  line  became  as  huge  as  it  was  now.  his  assortment  of  a  mexican  coke,  a  plate  of  nachos,  and  tamales  were  the  result  of  skipping  out  on  breakfast,  but  charlie  momentarily  feared  his  eyes  may  have  been  bigger  than  his  stomach  in  that  moment.  that  was  until  a  familiar  voice  appeared  near  him  and  blue  hues  blinked  up.  “hey  yourself,”  charlie  greets  in  response,  removing  the  glasses  from  his  face  and  perching  them  on  his  head.  it’d  been  a  hot  minute  since  the  two  of  them  saw  one  another,  let  alone  talked,  but  in  the  moment  it  didn’t  really  feel  as  such.  “take  what  you  want.  i  may  have  been  overly  ambitious.”  charlie’s  fingers  pick  apart  the  tamale  and  shove  a  piece  of  chicken  into  his  mouth.  he  chews  as  lainey  continues,  nose  scrunching  at  the  mention  of  stopping  by  his  parent’s  place.  more  to  do  with  his  parents  than  the  idea  of  a  visit  from  lainey  herself.  “if  there’s  one  place  you  won’t  catch  me  it’s  at  my  parents’,”  charlie  replies  with  an  upward  quirk  of  his  lips.  “everything,  huh  ??  a  bit  overrated  if  you  ask  me.”  he  uses  a  free  hand  to  push  the  plate  of  nachos  toward  lainey.  almost  like  an  olive  branch.  “i  live  in  deer  park  now,  by  the  way.  if  you  find  yourself  making  house  visits.  how  long  have  you  been  back  in  town  ??”

who: Lainey & Charlie ( @bcrgamvts ) where: the Tres Amigos food truck!

Classically, between all the commotion and trying to find CJ and the parade itself, Lainey had totally forgotten to eat. It was just hot enough that that was about to be a problem, so she tore herself away from the group to seek out something deliciously heavy. Free water bottle in hand courtesy of BHCH, Lainey joined the Tres Amigos line... and then quickly abandoned it for an already-occupied picnic table and a familiar shock of blonde hair. "Hey stranger," Lainey announced as she swung her legs over the bench. "You almost done with that?" she asked, dropping a hand into the nacho tray and plucking one for herself. Sure, it'd been years, and sure, Lainey'd done a shitty job of keeping up with Charlie-- but why get weighed down in the weeds? They were both adults. Their lives had naturally grown apart. "I've been meaning to stop by your parents' place," she explained, the closest to apologetic Lainey would get. "I just... kind of didn't want to get into the whole... everything," she waved a hand in the air, hoping that Charlie would know what she meant. Or pretend to.

[bcrgamvts]

the  day  being  presented  to  danika  was  proving  to  be  one  that  was  average  at  best.  most  of  her  day  consisted  of  having  to  work  through  conceptual  character  art  sketches  with  last  minute  feedback  despite  providing  the  sketches  well  over  a  week  ago  and  her  supervisor  only  getting  it  to  her  that  morning.  when  final  drafts  were  due  tomorrow.  so  definitely  not  the  happiest  of  days  as  danika  stayed  hunched  over  her  tablet,  redesigning  her  art  to  make  such  modifications  despite  finding  the  edits  unnecessary.  she’s  been  wearing  her  prescription  blue  light  glasses  that  she’d  gotten  from  her  optometrist  before  she  left  new  york  for  blue  harbor,  but  even  with  them  she  found  herself  fighting  off  an  eye  ache.  any  effort  she  initially  wanted  to  put  into  trying  a  new  creamy  chicken  and  orzo  dish  (  courtesy  of  tiktok  ),  her  energy  was  sucked  bone  dry  by  the  time  she  ended  for  the  day.  the  closest  she  could  get  to  orzo  were  the  yummy  pink  ramen  cups  they  sold  at  dreamland  market.  swap  out  water  for  milk  and  toss  in  some  shredded  cheese  and  it’ll  have  her  feeling  somewhat  at  ease.  though,  the  lack  of  a  cashier  unfortunately  kept  this  cheesy  future  from  materializing  as  danika  wandered  the  aisles.  she  nearly  jumps  at  the  sudden  voice  and  danika  whrils  around,  arms  full  off  ramen  boxes.  “no,  i  don’t.  unfortunately.  do  …  you  ??  i’m  assuming  no  since  you're  asking  me,”  danika  answers  with  a  chuckle  as  she  glances  around  the  seemingly  empty  store.  “i  wonder  where  the  workers  are.  i  hope  this  isn’t  the  start  of  some  horror  movie  type  shit.”

> Dreamland Market. Open.

Cap: 3

The meetings had been becoming more frequent in Weaver Ridge. A lot of the staff for the project seemed unnerved by the area, but all Magda could see was untapped potential. Once a bustling area providing much industry for Blue Harbor, now a mere ghost town of abandoned warehouses and boarded up shop fronts.

There were few services here. A couple of pubs — O'Shea's seemed to be more in the public favor than the infamous Pour House — a gas station and a small convenience store. That's where Magda found herself that evening, after finishing meeting with the senior surveyor at the warehouse her company were interested in purchasing. It was quiet, perhaps a bit too quiet, not even a gentle melody on the overhead radio could be heard. Even the harsh overhead fluorescents were little comfort. After gathering her essentials: milk, snack bars for the days she was too busy for a sit-down meal, a magazine book of puzzles to keep her entertained, she headed toward the un-manned cash register, looking around in confusion.

"Oh — sorry!" Magda called out to the nearest figure, both relieved and on edge at there only being this stranger inside with her. "I just... Do you work here?"

[bcrgamvts]

danika  had  been  trying  to  put  some  distance  between  herself  and  o’shea’s  —  not  for  any  previous  bad  instances  at  the  establishment,  but  more  so  the  fact  that  the  last  time  she’d  gone  was  after  she  and  her  ex  broke  things  off.  so  maybe  not  bad  experiences  …  embarrassing  more  like.  danika  gave  herself  that  night  as  a  pity  parade,  an  excuse  to  wallow  in  her  own  failed  relationship  and  a  wedding  that  would  now  never  come.  finding  continuous  solace  at  the  bottom  of  a  bottle  never  did  anyone  any  favors.  it’s  been  some  time  since  danika  stepped  foot  in  the  pub  and  she  was  set  to  continue  on  in  that  fact,  except  work  had  been  particularly  shitty  and  danika  didn’t  find  the  idea  of  going  back  to  the  apartment  she  and  her  ex  still  shared  as  a  particularly  thrilling  idea.  so  …  o’shea’s.  naturally.  what  danika  didn’t  come  to  expect  was  how  crowded  the  pub  was.  clearly  every  other  person  in  blue  harbor  shared  the  same  idea  of  not  wanting  to  go  home.  having  grown  up  in  new  york  city,  danika  was  an  expert  in  navigating  crowds,  weaving  in  and  out  of  tight  spaces  like  a  wraith.  she  had  her  sights  set  on  approaching  the  bar,  but  definitely  not  expecting  the  giant  wet  patch  of  spilled  beer  on  the  floor  that  had  her  slip  forward  and  catch  herself  on  the  nearest  bar  chair.  an  occupied  bar  chair.  “holy  shit  —  i’m  so  sorry,”  danika  apologized,  chocolate  hues  widening  and  instantly  stepped  back  from  the  other’s  personal  space.  “there’s  spilled  beer  and  i  guess  i  turned  into  an  ice  skater  there  for  a  minute.”  her  gaze  drops  to  his  empty  glass.  “i  didn’t  make  you  spill  your  drink  on  yourself,  did  i  ??  regardless,  let  me  buy  you  something  else.  it’s  the  least  i  can  do  for  nearly  koala-bearing  to  your  back.”

➥ location: o'shea's ➥ status: open starter (capping at 5)

It was quiet at the pub, that's why Jack liked it. Unfortunately, 'quiet' didn't necessarily translate to 'peaceful'. He'd shown up tonight with the simple aim of getting out of the house, planning to tuck himself away in a corner and nurse a couple of drinks somewhere that wasn't his couch, effectively escaping the feeling of the walls closing in on him at home. It'd been a long week and he didn't particularly feeling like dealing with other people—not that he usually felt like it anyway—but in typical fashion that lack of desire seemed to tempt fate. As he leaned against the bar ready to order another drink he felt somebody jostle him from behind.

"Hey, you mind?" he huffed, turning to look at them. "Personal space here."