camelliapatton

[camelliapatton]

solomonemsworth‌:

it’d been a quiet day - a nice change, after a spate of hectic ones. solomon had even managed to get some paperwork done, set up on one of the corner tables with his laptop and a coffee like all the other assholes in the place. he’d sorted payroll, done some accounts. boring shit but fairly important - he suffered through it all with minimal smoke breaks, something he thought commendable. 

getting back behind the machine hadn’t been all that exciting, either - there wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. he’d sent the part-timer home, leaving him and tyler to finish things up. tyler had settled herself in to fold napkins and polish cutlery and go on her phone in a way she thought was sneaky. solomon had let it slide, polishing bits of the machine after he’d wiped down tables. exciting stuff. 

his head lifted when he heard the door open - it took him several moments to place the vaguely familiar face, by which time she’d managed to seat herself at the bar. “vaguely,” he demurred, really just being difficult because he could. he eyed her, propping his weight on the counter with both broad, coffee stained hands. 

“you here to make trouble, huh?” 

he needn’t have asked - the moment he did she started in on what type of coffee she’d like. bloody hell. his brows rose just slightly as she spoke, mouth pushing slightly to one side under his thatch of beard and ‘stache.

“cappuccino has more foam,” he explained blandly - the easiest way to put it, really. he didn’t bother to get into the intricacies of coffee that often - he didn’t really buy into it all that much. was a bit pedantic, some of it. “you’re gonna rot the teeth outta your head, you are.”

Cam knew that the other was going to be an old grump, so she came prepared this time — or maybe the comments didn’t bother her so much now that her guard wasn’t down. Plopping her tote bag onto the counter, she got comfortable on the barstool, paying no mind to anyone else in the cafe that she may have disrupted. “Mm,” she hummed, “well, I’d like to say, for one, that trouble has a way of finding me, not the other way around.” Which was partially untrue, as Cam caused plenty of trouble on her own, but as always, she never liked to place much blame on herself. Why admit blame when you can place it on something else?

“Haven’t lost any yet,” she grinned, teeth bared, so he could see her teeth. She may have been a junkie, but not brushing her teeth just crossed the line. “So, do you have it or no?” She asked, eyes searching the back for some Reddi-whip they might’ve had lying around. “I’m good for it, you know.” Holding up some crumpled bills, she lay them on the counter, smoothing them out. “Besides, even if you only vaguely remember me, I definitely remember you.” One five, and three one dollar bills were lined up in front of her. “You have my lighter, ‘member that?”

[camelliapatton]

@solomonemsworth

A couple of weeks had passed before Cam stumbled upon the coffee shop again, purely by accident. She wandered a lot, as her days were filled with emptiness and boredom, exploring the nooks and crannies of the town without a care or transient worry. Her days were always the same; wake up at twelve, pop a couple pills down her throat with day-old coffee, shower if she felt like it, and then leave her apartment, scouring the streets for any source of entertainment. She rarely ever came across the same place twice in her travels, but she figured it was fate that her feet put her on the cafe’s doorstop. 

By the time she entered, it was closer to three, which meant that it was mostly empty, save for a couple people engrossed with whatever was going on in their laptops. It was easy to spot him, with his quiet, looming presence. Hopping onto a barstool, she leaned on the counter with her chin cupped in both hands, giving the man a mischievous grin. “Hi. ‘Member me?” It was a rhetorical question, one that she certainly would’ve been offended by if he didn’t remember her. 

Glancing around, she looked at the menu, squinting at the words. “I never understood the difference between a latte and a cappuccino,” she voiced. “I guess… give me the sweetest thing on the menu. Tons of whipped cream on top. Do you do whipped cream? If you don’t, you could just put a shit ton of sugar and milk into it; it’d probably create the same effect.” 

[camelliapatton]

jxckdaley‌:

Karma apparently was real. Or at least that’s what Jack figured when, despite being dazed from the elbow to the face, Cam took a spill herself, the contents of her bag flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of a movie, and slowly Jack moved to pick up his Nintendo from where it lied on the ground, his hand grazing the woman’s in his capture.

“Tell me that bit again about how you have no idea what I’m talking about,” Jack joked with a serious face, turning his system around to inspect any possible damage.

He looked around at the store which was all staring at him and Cam by now. His head hurt like hell now, and he didn’t really like having all these eyes on him, but he figured he’d say what he wanted to say anyway.

“I dunno what your fuckin’ deal is,” Jack said, his Philly accent coming on strong, “But you’re lucky I hate cops as much as I do. Stop fuckin’ stealing from people or at least…” Jack fumed, looking for a way to say it. “Steal from assholes and not me.” He figured that was good enough. Surely there must have been some reason this girl needed money, and even though he was pissed, Jack still had empathy for that more than anything. It could be hard to make a buck in this world.

Shoving the last of her belongings into her bag, she pulled herself up, her knees and ego bruised from the fall. Although Cam rarely ever got self-conscious, she had to admit that the small crowd gawking at her blunder was hardly a morale boost. 

She’d hoped he’d just grab his console and leave, sparing her the embarrassment of some sort of lecture, or worse, the handcuffs, but she wasn’t so lucky. Of course he’d need to talk her down, act as if she had committed the ultimate sin by taking one of his belongings. No, she was certainly no saint, and she’d be the first to admit it herself, but did it really require a threat? 

At this point, the cashier had enough of their antics, pushing her out the door, threatening to call the cops if they didn’t get out. Shrugging, she rummaged around her bag and pulled out her sunglasses and a cigarette, rolling her eyes as she backed away to the exit. “And you don’t think I pinned you as the asshole?” The stick teetered in between her lips as she lit the tip, taking care to do it in the store to annoy the cashier. “As if you didn’t chase me halfway across town — see, you’re lucky I hate cops as much as I do,” she drawled, purposefully copying his words, “— could’a easily called them on you for stalkin’ a girl ten blocks downtown.” She really wouldn’t have, considering they knew her by name and face now, even only a couple months in. The doped-up bitch, they called her. A one-way ticket to a night in jail, which she’d avoid at all possible costs. “Have to make a living somehow,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

The sun beat down on the sidewalk, despite it already being fall, and she pulled off her cardigan, forgetting her company. Up her left arm were faded track marks, but still yellowed bruises. Cam was usually good about hiding them in front of strangers (too many questions and too little sympathy) but she was feeling a bit light-headed and irritable, so it had slipped her mind. 

[camelliapatton]

solomonemsworth·:

this girl was definitely a handful - solomon had realized that fairly quickly. he wondered, briefly, if she were this difficult with everyone or if he were just that special. he tried not to immediately assume the former, but it did seem to be the more plausible of the options. she seemed very much the·‘take it or leave it’ type, offering all the worst bits up on a platter to scare away anyone she didn’t deem worth her time. a fair strategy, solomon thought. couldn’t say he’d never done it, either.·

the snort drew a twitch of one brow from solomon, arching upwards for a brief moment before dropping again. he sipped his coffee then, something to do as she spoke. it seemed to pour from her, the dialogue - solomon made no move to stop her, just letting her bite at him until she’d quite finished. it were easy enough to brush off, the vitriol. her tone was harsh enough, edged with an unspoken·‘fuck you’. solomon refused to take it at all to heart - her words were a bit sad, honestly. he had enough sense not to say that out loud, though. he weren’t just a pretty face, that solomon.

solomon simply lifted his hands at her words, one curled loosely around his cup, the other spread palm flat as if in some protestation of innocence.·

“hey, hey. i wasn’t gonna say anythin’, alright? not my place to judge,” solomon said with a short shake of his head.·“no sympathy, no nothin’. might’a said somethin’ about how that monologue could’ve been ripped out of a teen movie but i figured it weren’t the right time.”·

His answer was straightforward enough, although there was a miniscule part of her (one that she suppressed and refused to face) that’d wished he’d felt sorry for her anyways. Or maybe he did, and he hid it behind that stony face of his. It didn’t matter; she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had felt an ounce of sympathy for her. But then again, she’d gone so long without it, thrived off of her conniving nature and fuck yous that she wasn’t entirely sure she could unveil the small piece of her that could bare her heart without stipulation. That seemed immensely difficult. And anything difficult wasn’t worth doing, in her book.

So all she said was, “Good,” the word waterlogged with the weight of her past emotions, oppressed and then repressed to the back of her mind. She wondered, sometimes, what it was like, to not be such a fuck-up, to have a life outside of her 300-square foot room, to not rely on whether her sister would feel generous enough to deposit money in her bank account next week. She liked art, once. It felt like a lifetime ago that she even picked up a pen to draw.

But that was neither here nor there, and like she did, always, she shoved the painful memory away, locked it into some closet that she wouldn’t have to look at anytime soon. And she floated back to reality, giving the man a half-hearted smirk that was more sheepish than mischievous. “Hope I didn’t bore you to death,” she answered, crossing her arms.

She figured, the way he was still stony-faced, that he’d wanted her to leave for a while now (after all, he didn’t exactly consent to hearing her sob story with all of the acidity of a young girl grown too fast) and she put her hands behind her back, half-stepping, half-skipping backwards away from him. He’d had enough for the day, she presumed, and judging by her apron, she figured he’d be around the coffee shop if she’d ever want to pester him again. But before she could turn away and leave, she reached into her pocket, revealing her little engraved Zippo, and threw it to him. “Here. Figured you could use another light after hearing my shit story.” She gave a flick of her wrist, in a salute-wave combination. “Don’t lose it.”

[camelliapatton]

solomonemsworth·:

solomon’s brows lifted, folding the lines in his forehead right up. he had permanent ones, now - didn’t bother him, really. that was life, right? you were born, got old then fuckin’ died. lots of things happened in between, of course, but that was the gist of it. he accepted the lines that began to dot his face - the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the furrows drawn into his forehead and between his brows. told stories or some shit - that was what his mum always told him. she also told him he was lucky to be a man - wrinkles were a lot more acceptable on a bloke than on a member of the fairer sex. silver linings, he guessed. 

“you’re fishin’ without any bait there, pet,” solomon told her, kissing his teeth a moment. “wasn’t anythin’ half that excitin’. she had thirteen years on me - i was too young. it happens.”

it was all so far in the past that solomon had kind of forgotten the hurt now. didn’t burn in his chest like it used to - probably helped that he and robyn were matey now. as matey as you could be with an ex-spouse, anyway. they’d both moved on, for better or for bloody worse. they’d had dinner once, in new york. at the plaza bloody hotel, of all places. she’d been staying there, doing some fancy lawyer shit solomon had little understanding of. she’d always had a taste for the finer things, that robyn. being raised by way of silver spoon helped someone develop that. 

solomon hummed as all at once the young lady fed him her story. it was a little surprising, but he supposed she liked to get it out there. make it a bit more acceptable to be wearing that chip on her shoulder. he did feel for her, a bit - addiction was no joke. he’d seen that when he’d finally met his old man - solomon was in his early twenties, meeting up with a dude in his early fifties selling the big issue and living in a half-way house, bearing two forearms of terrible prison tattoos. he supposed he probably got some amount of his father’s addictive tendencies - though luckily his didn’t reach too far beyond nicotine and caffeine. a small victory. 

“you don’t agree?” solomon queried, voice quiet. he chuffed at the last of his cigarette before stubbing it out, grinding it to death beneath the heel of his boot. “she lives here too, eh? maybe she wants t’keep an eye on you.”

Cam briefly wondered if he was lying, stonewalling to get her out of his hair. She was being pushy, no doubt about that, but it’d been a while since she felt as if she was digging a hole into nothingness. Most of her conversations went either her way or no way, but this was neither, this was his way, whether he knew it or not. Nothing about the hard look on his face screamed an ideal confidante, but she found herself uncovering bits of herself, despite his ardent decision not to do so. 

It was funny, how things worked sometimes. She strolled in, ready to play him, and now, she was sure that he was playing her, without even knowing it.

At his comment, she snorted, rolling her eyes. So it was true. He did see her as some exasperating child, without control or maturity, still growing into her limbs and mind. (Cam supposed that was true, in some respect. Give her ample access to her precious opiates and she’d end up in oblivion.) “Well, duh. I’m a fucking junkie,” she replied bluntly, her words edged with the point of a freshly sharpened knife. “She lives in New York. Comes up every week and makes sure I’m not dead in my apartment or foaming at the mouth or some shit.” Anger, or was it bitterness? She wasn’t sure why those emotions bubbled up to the surface, coating her outsides with every bit of malice and contempt that she could muster. “At the end of the day, she knows it’s all for shit though. We’re all going to end up six feet under or burnt to a crisp in an urn; doesn’t matter if you’re some rich fuck, a mindless of follower of society or me. Maybe that’s a fucked up way of looking at things,” here, she laughed, acerbic and all bite, “but it makes me feel better about living on this rock.” 

She stood up, dusting her butt off for any stray pebbles or dirt clinging to her shorts, and placed her hands on her hips, cocking her head. “And don’t say you feel bad for me,” she said bluntly. “‘Cause I know you don’t.”

[camelliapatton]

jxckdaley·:

Jack was no stranger to getting decked out. He’d been an edgy comedian at one point–well, parts of his act still were like that, but political awareness had helped chill him out. Back in the times of Jack trying desperately to do stand-up, he’d gotten into a lot of fights with offended showgoers… not to mention the nights out after, with the free-flowing taps of Philly, New York, Baltimore, and Boston.

Still, getting clocked was a surprise as it hadn’t happened to him in a while, and certainly not from someone such as this. And it was an elbow, which implied she was a practiced professional. 

“Fuck,” Jack cursed loudly, grabbing at his nose which instantly started bleeding. He lost any awareness of the girl and was now just focused on making sure his face wasn’t broken. He cursed again,  feeling around his nose for a moment before deciding that it ultimately, was not broken. Blinking, his gaze cast upwards, looking around in a dazed fashion.

Cam was right — her aim really was that good. Her elbow landed square on his nose and she heard him swore, hands clutching at his bloodied face. A couple of dramatic gasps came from the few customers around them, but that was to be expected, considering she did just ram him in his face. After that, it was supposed to be smooth sailing, right out the door, to her freedom, before he or the cashier could call the cops and get her arrested for… assault or robbery or disturbing the peace (she’d seen it all). 

What she didn’t expect, however, was for the underpaid dumb-fuck monkey employee to mop the floors twenty minutes before she’d walked in, and for them to actually be a dumb-fuck and not put up a ‘wet floor’ sign. Any well-meaning, inattentive person would have skidded right into the next bookshelf, and that’s what Cam did. She lost her footing and slipped right to the ground, the contents of her tote bag spilling onto the floor. Amongst a bunch of crumpled receipts, rolling papers, and little baggies was one rectangular hard case, one that she’d adamantly maintained she didn’t have on her. 

She looked up, hoping that maybe he was too busy nursing his nose that he wouldn’t see it, but the chances of that were slim. She’d taken quite the spill, knocking over a rotating book rack on her way down, and everyone’s eyes were on her now, with her face planted on the linoleum, legs splayed amongst fallen books. She groaned, lifting herself up off the ground, hurriedly shoving the upturned contents of her bag back into it. 

[camelliapatton]

[camelliapatton]

jxckdaley·:

Jack was utterly stunned that the woman kept up her act of playing dumb. He did another cursory glance around the bookstore to make sure no one was reading the scene wrong, but thankfully there weren’t too many people in the bookstore on this particular afternoon.

“You’re full of shit,” he said, his amusement at the situation dying quickly, “You think I’d forget a mouth like that? Unlikely.” His eyes glanced down to her bag that she was holding like it might have wads of cash in it. Or maybe a game system.

He caught her arm as she tried to weasel away. Part of Jack wanted to threaten this woman with calling he cops, but the stronger, more stubborn, better part of Jack overpowered that.

“Just give me my shit back, man. I’m not gonna call the cops on you or whatever. But I’m being decent. How about you take this rare opportunity to be decent back?”

If Cam wasn’t mad before, now she was — had he really dared to grab her like that? He was bigger, much bigger than she was, with her skinny frame and wobbly legs, but she’d been in too many fist fights (that she’d won) to let that stop her. He was blabbing on about decency, and if he knew any better, he’d know that she didn’t have any, but that was okay, because he was just about to find out how indecent she could be. 

His grip was tight, but in one swift movement, she maneuvered her back towards his front, her pointy little elbows targeted towards his nose, her Doc Marten clad foot hovering over his toes. With any luck, if her aim was any good (which it almost always was), he’d double over in pain and let go of her, allowing her a swift getaway. 

[camelliapatton]

🍻💃🏼🌟

🍻- For something bad/mischievous you did as a child or teen that your parents don’t know about

“God — where do I even start? Okay, when I was six, I stole a whole sleeve of Oreos from the mini-mart across the street. Mmm, eight, I skipped school and beat up a girl ‘cause she was being rude and pushed me off the swing. Ten, I stole a pack of cigarettes from this eighth grade poser and smoked like, three of ‘em. Thirteen, I think? — when I stole my oldest sister’s driver’s license to use as a fake. My parents weren’t exactly parents of the year. The list goes on; when do you want me to stop?”

💃- For a talent that they like to keep hidden from others

“I’m…. actually a really good artist. Probably the one class I didn’t fail in high school. I liked to do still-lifes, but sometimes I’d get high or trip or whatever and paint something more abstract. My art teacher actually told me to apply to some schools and shit, but ya know… didn’t exactly have the money to do it. So… here I am. It’s kind of dumb; I don’t do it much anymore.” 

🌟- For a secret wish or desire of theirs

“For real though? I wish I wasn’t addicted to heroin. That’s it. It fucking sucks.”

[camelliapatton]

🐇

🐇- For a secret item they keep (stuffed animal, comfort object, etc)

“Ugh. Well, I guess I do keep around this one stuffed animal. And maybe I sleep with it. And his name might be Bun-Buns. But if you tell anyone, I will punch you.” 

[camelliapatton]

🍏- For something they secretly wish didn’t exist

“My parents. Technically they don’t exist now; now, they’re pretty dead in the ground, but I wish they hadn’t existed at all. The pain and suffering that comes with living and all that lovely shit. I didn’t ask to be born in this shit hole of a life, so yeah, I wish they weren’t even around to bring me into this life.”

[camelliapatton]

Force my Muse to Spill their Secrets

🌧- For a heavy, emotional secret

🙃- For a lighter, slightly embarrassing secret

🌟- For a secret wish or desire of theirs

🍏- For something they secretly wish didn’t exist

🍎- For something they secretly wish did exist

❤️- For a secret crush

📲- Talk about someone/something you dislike, but only pretend to like

👁‍🗨- Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike

🍻- For something bad/mischievous you did as a child or teen that your parents don’t know about

🌜- For a ‘weird’ habit or tic that no one knows about

💃- For a talent that they like to keep hidden from others

🏹- For a talent they wish they had

👻- For something that scares or disturbs them, but they refuse to tell anyone

☢️- For a controversy or scandal they have been able to keep mostly under wraps

🐇- For a secret item they keep (stuffed animal, comfort object, etc)

📒- For a secret journal/diary they keep (Bonus: Share an entry from it!)

📔- For a secret sketchbook they keep (Bonus: Share a sketch or doodle within it!)

🖤- For something they secretly wish they could do with your muse

❓- Free Space! Ask them about a specific secret!

[camelliapatton]

solomonemsworth·:

the deep, lung tickling drag solomon took was much needed - the look on the young woman’s face was enough to make him wish that he had a gin to go with the smoke. might make things a little more palatable, a little less excruciating. solomon usually didn’t mind a yarn or some banter - hell, even a little conflict. but after too many hours of serving local yuppie fucks, solomon was kind of tapped out. that hint of aggression that coloured customers words when you didn’t immediately drop to your knees and suck them off as thanks for even stepping foot inside your business really took it out of solomon. he always wanted to bite back but more often than not sucked it up and simpered and smiled and thanked them for their purchase. made him a bit sick, honestly. 

he did, though, try to keep a hold on his temper outside of work, too. didn’t do him no good, snapping at random strangers. his eyes followed the woman as she settled herself on the ground - she seemed a little fragile, this one. guarded with spat acid and rough edges, but fragile all the same. he tried to be sympathetic - it was hard out here, for young people. for everyone, really. solomon wasn’t too well off, despite owning a business. times were tough - he reminded himself of that when she spoke, biting back any sort of irritation that might rise to the surface.

“thought you weren’t worried about legality?” solomon queried. “‘spose that bit of self control is good, though. hate for you to end up on some sorta list, eh?”

solomon cocked a brow as the girl went on the offensive - ah, of course. he supposed the mention of marriage with no ring on his finger would be viewed as a chink in the armour. not really an inspired dig, he thought - pretty par for the course. basic. 

“we went our separate ways a long time ago, pet. that’s water off a duck’s back, that is.” 

Again, the lack of change in his expression — it bothered Cam at first, but she began to see that this was the norm for him. Curious. Was he truly as unfeeling as he portrayed himself to be? Or were there walls, built up over time, hundreds of feet thick, to prevent anything from coming out? 

“Come on,” she scoffed. “There’s gotta be one good story that comes out of that mouth of yours. What’d you do? Did you cheat on her? Or did she cheat on you? Couldn’t satisfy her in bed? Or is it a he?” She listed off the whole bunch, half-knowing that he wouldn’t flinch at all, half-hoping he would, at some point. Her tone was non-judgmental and casual; she had no right to judge, considering that most of her relationships, both past and present, romantic and platonic, were completely dysfunctional. She was curious about how people lived their lives (sometimes to a fault), and that was all. “Come to think of it, how did a guy like you come to own a coffee shop in uppity-fuck Connecticut, of all places?” He seemed out of place, a single mismatched puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box. “I’ll tell you why I’m here — I grew up in shitty neighborhood, went to rehab up north, and then came back down here because my sister thinks it’ll be good for me.” She chuckled, bitterly. It was endearing, really, that her siblings thought a squeaky clean town could change her perspective on life. So far all it’s done was make her feel like more of a fuck-up. 

[camelliapatton]

jxckdaley·:

At her response, all Jack could do was laugh again, in his usual manic way. Did she think he was stupid? Or worse, had she done this before, and had it worked? Jack was often surprised at the utter incompetence of the human race. But he wasn’t gonna let her off easily.

“That’s rich,” he said, still laughing, and still making sure her path was as blocked as possible, “Come on, babe. You’ll find I’m probably the best person to steal from–if it was anything else, you could have had it, I don’t give a shit. But right now you’ve separated me from my Housecarl Lydia, and she’s going to be missing me. We’re taking on Skyrim together and I’m not about to waste 80 hours on a whole new game.” At least not for another six months or so.

Jack sighed, looking around the store–so far there had been no commotion on Jack cornering this woman. Hopefully she didn’t try anything unseemly, because to any onlookers it didn’t look great, him practically having trapped her there.

“Look, is it money you want? I’ll give you some money. Fine. I’m charitable. I can take responsibility for being stupid and not watching my shit. I don’t really care,” he pulled out his wallet, not opening it, but showing her that he was serious.

If he didn’t stop laughing like that, Cam was going to lose her shit. She didn’t like feeling small, least of all by someone she already found annoying — above all, he’d called her babe, and hell would freeze over before she was anyone’s babe. He was blabbing on about his game, and she instinctively held her bag closer to her body, as if he knew it was in there. 

She narrowed her eyes, flicking on a well-practiced scowl. “I have no fucking clue what you’re yapping on about. Sorry that some bitch stole your game but I don’t have it.” The lies rolled off her tongue, as smooth as a baby’s butt. She’d only been practicing for the last twenty years or so, after all. 

As he pulled out his wallet, she attempted to push past him, trying to squirm her lanky frame underneath his arm so she could flee the encounter. Money was what she wanted, but at this point, it seemed ridiculous to admit that she had stolen it. Besides, there was no telling what he’d do; he was much bigger than her, and if she’d presented him with it, he could easily swipe it back without giving her the cash first. “Fuck your money,” she replied, throwing up a middle finger. “Let me get by.” 

[camelliapatton]

jxckdaley·:

He wasn’t expecting Cam to run quite as fast as she did. If he had time to think about it it might have made sense, she did steal from him and he was running at her. Still, the speed and efficiency with which she weaved through the crowds of town took Jack by surprise. Thankfully, Jack had been a gym rat for the last three years of his life–he filled a good chunk of his time with going to the gym, sometimes every single day for weeks on end. So the man had no problems running.

But Cam could squeeze through where he couldn’t, and for a few moments he’d thought he’d lost her when he came to a corner. He looked around the street, and the girl was nowhere to be seen despite a lot of visibility. That meant she’d gone into a store then, all right. There were a few options, a 7/11, some kind of boutique, neither of them quite as enticing as a hiding spot as the bookstore with its tall shelves blocking view from the outside windows. He hedged his bets and moved into the store, the bell of the door signalling his entrance.

All things accounted for, he was lucky to find the girl, and he moved to corner her so that it wasn’t possible to escape, but he tried to give her some space so she wouldn’t feel too threatened by a buff angry dude.

“Remember me?” he questioned ironically, not even a bit out of breath, “The guy who made it to Mordor.” He had to joke around a little bit with a grin, now that he had her and thus the possibility of getting his system back.

“I think you might have something of mine,” he said. He prayed she hadn’t sold it. That would permanently separate him from his hours and hours of game play, one of his few personal accomplishments.

Before she could conjure up a plan however, a little tinkle rang throughout the quiet shop, and she turned, finding him standing in the doorway. She grabbed a random book off the shelf and buried her face in it, hoping that he hadn’t already spotted her, but it was too late. He stood right before her, sounding surprisingly good-natured, even referencing her previous joke she’d made to his face. For a brief moment, Cam thought that maybe he hadn’t realized, but then she remembered that she had just led him on chase through downtown Lakeham, which didn’t exactly speak volumes for her innocence. If he hadn’t thought she’d stolen his game before, he sure did now. 

But, Cam was hardly one to give up. She prided herself on being a grifter, and a good one at that, and admitting defeat — well, she didn’t want to go there. She turned, cocked her head with her arms crossed, and scrunched up her brows, feigning complete innocence. “I’m sorry — do I know you?” When all else failed, deny, deny, deny. If she was lucky, he’d think he got the wrong person, and leave without her having to cause a scene.

[camelliapatton]

Shit. As Cam turned around, she immediately recognized the guy who called out her name as the dork from the bus and she booked it, sending her whizzing through the crowd. She weaved through the crowd, not minding that she was pushing past disgruntled walkers; getting arrested and was the last possible thing she needed right now. Truth be told, up until that moment, she’d forgotten she’d took his game. Her plan was to pawn it off for a couple hundred, which would tide her over until her sister brought over groceries, but after the bus ride, it lay forgotten in the bottom of her bag. It was her fault for pulling a con before she had her cup of coffee. Irresponsible, really. 

After she had run a couple blocks, she slowed down, panting, looking over her shoulder every couple of seconds for any sign of the man. God, was she out of shape. Not that she was ever in shape, from what all those cigarettes she’d smoked, but she had a knack for losing a tail. Her canvas tote was slung around her shoulder, and it rocked back and forth with the weight of the console. She was truly a colossal, undeniable idiot. She knew she should’ve sold the thing the first chance she got. If the guy spotted her, like he just did, she could’ve feigned innocence, pretended she was someone else. Now, the incriminating evidence was still right in her bag, and she had nowhere to hide it. She strolled down the rest of the block before making an abrupt turn into a bookstore, hoping she could hide out for a couple minutes so she could figure out a plan.

closed starter for @camelliapatton location: a sidewalk downtown

Jack had lived here for a few years now, but it didn’t mean he was necessarily used to small town life. In fact, the small town sensations had only grown more intense as the years passed and Jack found himself knowing more and more people in Lakeham–he could hardly walk out of his house now without seeing someone he knew.

In this particular instance, as he was walking up the street to the chipotle-for-crepes establishment that could only ever exist in Connecticut, the person he recognized was the edgy girl from the bus who had stolen his Nintendo. She was walking on the opposite side of the street, and Jack didn’t hesitate for even a second before running after her.

Not a great look, of course, a man running after a woman on the street. But Jack had fantasized about seeing her again after she all but destroyed a good 80 hours of game time in Skyrim and countless more on Fortnite–he had made a plan for what to do if he ever saw her again, and this was it.

“Hey!” he called out to her, “Cam!” he wasn’t sure why he used her name. Politeness?

[camelliapatton]

mattiefrenier·:

Mattie shrugged, smirking at her.  “I was thinking about it.  The build up is just so, so sweet,” he explained, holding out his hand when he offered her the powder.  He was quick enough about it, though uncaring about the fact they were in public.  It was late, what did it matter?  Anyone that walked by should probably be aware illegal things occurred in the dark.  That was the way the world worked, after all, was it not?  And all he could think about was the fact that he’d feel fine again soon, back to relaxed, back to functional, not the twitchy mess he’d become when he was no longer ‘on something’.

“Entitled shitheads make up the vast majority of this country, if you ask me.  Or maybe that’s just my own experience, but then that’s the only experience I’m going to learn anything from,” he said with a dry laugh.  “It’s not even a bad thing, if you ask me.  How glorious is that?  An entire country made up of people who have had so many opportunities that it has shaped them into asshats that believe these opportunities are a right?”  Not that Mattie really wanted to get philosophical tonight, but he couldn’t stop himself sometimes.

“I work there, of course it’s fun,” he replied, rolling his eyes, as if it were obvious.  “And it’s Afterlife.  You could also try and check out Avenue, might be more your scene.  It’s just a different kind of people.  I think you might be able to score outside of Afterlife, though.  Shit, I’ve thought about it.”

“No, no, see,” she began, shaking her head, “it’s not fair for people like us to have to watch them pretend their privilege is a right. They’re being selfish, right? Well, fine, but it means we can be selfish too.” Cam had never entertained the idea that Mattie posed before, but her answer was something she lived by everyday. Her being a thief, a criminal, a selfish, good-for-nothing addict, in her opinion, was only a product of the shitty hand the cosmos handed her, and well, she’d never been amenable to put in the work to scavenge for better cards. She’d seen it in her siblings and they still struggled. It just wasn’t worth it. She figured Mattie felt the same. 

“Right, Afterlife,” she repeated, nodding along. “Maybe I’ll check it out sometimes then.” She shrugged, puffing out little clouds of smoke. “I’ll roll or somethin’; easy enough to get molly here with all the college kids. Probably gets me in a lot less fights, which is great for the rest of the world, sucks for me. I like giving people what they deserve.” She stuck her finished cigarette into the back crevice of the bench, not giving much thought to the next person unfortunate enough to sit there next. “Don’t worry, I promise not to do it during one of your shifts. As long as you score me a couple of free drinks.”