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[frdbooth]

hcllcatcrxssing‌:

This is experience erupted boisterous laughter from the brunette, equipped with the intelligence and cunning nature of her grandfather ( whom hadn’t even raised her and still, there was most of her personality, laid out before them and accentuating the thrill of a girl who had once been brimming with dreams, crushed by her comatose state and turning to the life of an adrenaline rush out of her control, one she would never give up for anyone ) allowing him to embellish himself. The higher his ego climbed, the more she could spin him like a record. You know you can’t handle me. “Oh, you should never doubt a woman who could have ya strung up tomorrow if I asked nicely. Promise you, it’s the other way around.” Wild-spirited as her ancestor, who had left France and treated the realm of America as if it were still swaddled in some lawless state, taking advantage of unincorporated places like Primm to disarm others from their fame and fortune. Swindling was what she lived for, like the man sitting next to her, except she was free and young, happy to be so. If she had been offered a deal with the devil to cling to her youth forever, Genevieve might have taken him up on it and bartered with him too. Tipping her head to the side, she lifted her glass to her lips after paying her thanks to the bartender, waving him off when he bowed. The gesture was flattering to one who regarded herself as a queen and yet, she found it entirely unnecessary. It wasn’t like she could fall ass-first into the throne of Cleopatra. “Fine,” the woman finally conceded, giving in to his ploy to grab information out of her. She could earn her drinks out of this one. Imbibing from her glass, she set it down, tracing her fingernail along the rim of her glass. “Hate to tell ya, it’s slim pickin’ out here tonight. Most I got was swiping a wallet off a guy when I managed to woo him into my web for a minute or too. Didn’t have much. Place is fuckin’ empty tonight.” Scoffing to herself, she grinned in his direction, figuring she could still turn it around in her favor. “And damn, do ya look tired, honey. Could always call it quits an’ hop on over to Whiskey Pete’s. Unless you’re too tired, old man.” Truthfully, she doubted it would amount to anything other than wasted time and drinks at the next bar. They could have fun with each other’s company, couldn’t they?

he really couldn’t help but laugh. it was entertaining. however feigned their mutual pining was, the constant daring remarks, the challange implied by each one of their answers, the lingering tension there. he couldn’t help but love it. “ have me strung up, hun ? ” there was a chuckle, “ i would like to see that. ” with a laugh, he moved back, to drink his whiskey, to allow her to breath a little.

the return to their actual subject of conversation was so abrupt that ford had to take a second to pace himself, to remember that he had asked her a question, that they weren’t just teasing and poking at each other for the sake of it. — and he was surprised by the disappointment that never came. 

it was a second later that realized the reason behind it. easily, the two of them could have turned this into a work night, made a task out of tricking the old man by the bar that he had won the chance of a lifetime and he could go to the presidential suit, they would ever escort him, were where his things ? his wallet ? his chips ? it would be so easy, but no, ford was too tired for that. what he wanted to have fun with her for once. 

so instead of disappointment his answer was " whiskey pete it is, let’s go ! ” there was a laugh, “ i never turn down a chance to out drink a twenty year old, babey. ”

[frdbooth]

ofoblivions‌:

how does one learn to live a full life ? not by googling it, now ivy understands. going to a casino is in the list of ‘things you need to do before you die’, a list she fetched from no other source than holy pinterest – thanks to that list, she is stuck here. why she regrets it everytime she tries to engage in enthusiasm ? all she wants is to leave that place but numbness caused by everything buzzing and blinking around holds her hostage. she needs someone’s help, maybe she can ask for someone’s help. 

too anxious to be picky, the first stranger her eyes land on is chosen as her possible savior. but while she is rehearsing what to say to the male inside her head for the sixth time, he notices her and suddenly all her script is wasted.  “ first of all, ” tirade begins with her index finger clumsily pointing up. it’s not clear, is this defiance or insecurity echoing through her voice ? while she feels insecure, she makes it sound like she is being defiant. at least she tries to. “ i need to make it clear that i was not looking at you to mean anything. ” but she has no control whatsoever over her emotions that are raw, so that’s why what happens next only makes everything she said a moment ago trivial at the most. she starts crying. “ and i don’t even want to be here at all, no, i don’t even drink. it’s not possible. ”

“ hey, ” he put his hands up, as if there was an offense there somewhere he didn’t quite notice, as if her words were a retaliation to something horrible he’d said, as if he was surrendering all together in that one simple motion. “ it’s okay, kid, i was just offering it because you looked nervous, but hey, by all means. ” there was a dramatic, complicated wave of his hands. " if that somehow offended you at all, i apologize. ”

but she was crying, and as much as every fiber of his being yells at him to let it go, to leave her alone, to make this another poor bastard’s problem, ford still stepped forward closer, lowered his voice into a whisper. “ are you okay ? ” no, of course not, but that is not really what he meant. “ are you safe ? i am pretty good at getting security to come over, i can cause a distraction for you to make a run for the door. ” maybe he could be wrong, yes, but then again he could be right, and ford would make a fool of himself a thousand times over allowing a scared kid like her to get hurt. 

[frdbooth]

prxphcts‌:

“Oh, please, fuck that. I wasn’t born here, they can’t fuckin’ dictate my year of birth. I’m a Friday the Thirteenth baby of ‘91 and I’m stayin’ that way,” he chortled, a grin splitting his features as he tapped his index finger against his lip, “You won’t recognize Orion, by the way. Kid’s got facial hair now.” He had a bad habit of running his mouth, searching to fill the holes, the silences, the blistering fear that if he shut his mouth for too long, there was an opening for a disappearing act. Not just with Ford– everyone. There were few people in his life that silence stretched comfortably, with exceptions for the moments he was pitted so deeply in his anguish that the effort failed him. Caught between alienation and issues with abandonment, there was no middle ground, nor was it as simple of untangling the strings that had brought them together. Deep down, he would like to think that Ford’s reappearance and keen interest in the two brothers at all was a sign that no matter if he had wanted for it to happen, an attachment of his own had built the bridge between them. It was one Cyrek hadn’t burned as fast as he could build when he’d torn down the walls of his life at twenty-five, hurting awfully from his sister’s demise, drowning himself in heroin. He’d pushed hard against everyone, and yet, his father figure had been there when he’d been hospitalized prior to his rehab for crashing from a two-story balcony, painting the streets crimson like sidewalk chalk. No, he’s no child that anyone should be proud of. Fuckin’ trailer park, foster kid trash ( a slap worth a thousand stars and blue bruises ), he didn’t deem himself as worthy of the mere visit, strung-out, vitriolic, and irritable as can be, aching from the crater he’d created in his skull. ( “Why are you here?” he’s pretty sure he asked, sounding exactly like one would expect for flooding his throat with copper blood. ) “No,” he answered softly, realizing he’d been gazing at his glass for a time, looking over at him then, adamant in his ability to stand on his own even when he couldn’t, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there.”

Maybe one of these days, he’d find a reason to settle. That wasn’t to say Cyrek had himself; when his daughter fell into his lap, as well as a loveless marriage, he was forced to make the right choice. The wanderlust was part of him, tainting his soul with a love that never died, that constant urge to pack up and leave everything behind. He would never wish that life on Amaris the way he had given it to Orion, though. The world was beautiful and meant for travel, yet there was no denying the constant uprooting of a fostered youth had exacerbated volatile behavior. Settling to listen to the elder repeat his delivery of the breadcrumb of news, his mismatched eyes searched the man’s expression, waiting on imminent disappointment– no, glee? You haven’t told him yet, asshole, settle down. Save the disappointment for later. It was then he was jostled with the abrupt encompassing of hospitality, fumbling to rest his hands on Ford’s back with a tiny laugh, fingers clutching at the fabric. He’s not going to go anywhere, he won’t– “Congratulations to you, papi,” the blonde responded delicately, the gentle reminder the restless con man did have a family of his own, whether he liked to actively consider it such a way, muffled against his shirt, “You’ll love her. Eight months old… she’s in this fuckin’ koala obsession right now and… she’s so special.” When the man had broken from the hug, he pulled out his wallet from his jeans, flipping it open and searching through the photos, pulling one out to hand over to him of the girl seated in his lap, far more fascinated with his rings than the camera. “Keep it. Tell me where you’ve been, screwin’ poor bastards over,” he encouraged, lifting the glass to his lips to imbibe.

“ Facial hair ? ” He shook his head again and again, as if that was a personal offense. “ Didn’t you kids got the memo that you were supposed to stay the exact same age until I got back ? I can deal with all that growing up stuff. People will start looking at the two of us sitting together and think I’m past thirty. ” Ford couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He meant to argue then, he meant to say something, to establish detachment between the two of them, to reinstall distance if it didn’t just take a few seconds of being around him again for it to disappear. But that doesn’t mean I don’t you there stayed with him. It was like the words echoed, ricocheting off his empty chest, robbing him of any and all coherent thoughts. — He meant to say something, yes, but he stopped instead, breathed, nodded. 

With a forced smile Ford tried, “ I’m sorry, ” with a long sip of his drink, he veered his eyes away. Apologies from him were so uncommon the weight of the words felt weird in his tongue. “ I’ll keep you posted about my whereabouts next time, hun, how about that ? ” It’s not guilt, it’s just an overwhelming sense of dread attached to the inevitable disappointment he would cause. Things were easier when he was just helping, when they didn’t cal this what it was, when Ford could pretend that he called him dad as a joke and no one would miss him if he dropped off the face of earth.

With a final sip at the quickly-disappearing alcohol, he asked the barman for another one, focused his full attention on the boy - or rather - man in front of him. “ Of course, she has a goddamn koala obsession. ” and it’s in that moment that his smile came back and refused to leave. As if the mere mention of his supposed grand-daughter was enough to permanently staple happiness right across his features. " Of course your kid would have a weird ass obsession with a strange animal. Next thing you’ll tell me she loves to listen to death metal. ” one quick look at the picture, one second holding it, and his features softened, “ I can’t wait to meet her, kid. ” and he didn’t, he really didn’t. 

Then the subject is on him and he is quick to shrug it off, “ Me ? Screwing people over ? I would never. ” There was a laugh, a shake of the head. “ I scored big time, you know, some dumbass bought a ten dollar panting for a few millions, so if you need anything, if the kid needs anything, all you gotta do is ask. ” and then a shrug. “ Besides that, not much. My kid turned seven. I gave him one of those tiny little cars they can actually drive, you know. He loved it, refused to walk anywhere for a week. ” There was a chuckle. “ My life is boring, kid, I got nothing to tell you. ”

[frdbooth]

letsgetlost-inwonderland‌:

Alice chuckled at his response, appreciating the sentiment. It’s not like her date had done her any harm but it just been bad overall. The man she’d meet up with was boring, had bad opinions, and while she appreciated the fact that he didn’t just assume that she wanted to have sex with him, she dropped several blatantly obvious ‘hints,’ hints like Hey, maybe we should go back to my place, that he either just didn’t pick up on or he simply wasn’t interested. It was honestly annoying, since Alice had gone through the trouble to do her makeup, put on a dress and heels, and traveled all the way out to Vegas for a date. She shrugged and said “Eh, he was a dud anyways.” Besides, it’s not like she was looking for Prince Charming. She chuckled at his words and said “I’m sorry to hear that,” though she didn’t really know all that much about gambling. That was a vice that she’d luckily been able to avoid. When he offered to ‘show her some fun,’ she was hesitant. “What kind of fun?” she said quizzically.

“ I don’t know, ” He half-shrugged, drinking the rest of his whiskey, half getting up already as if Ford was absolutely certain she would be okay with whatever he suggested. Or at the very least, certain that he was leaving that god forsaken bar pretty soon. “ I say, let’s bet the rest of chips on red, cash out, buy the most expensive water this place has to offer and maybe wait for the sunset on my hotel pool ... ? ” And as if she needed further encouragement that it was going to be a good time, he tried, “ You can tell me all about how shitty the guy was. Did he spit on the floor ? Was he that kind of guy ? Or worse, oh, no, ” He stopped in a dramatic show of feigned surprised. “ Did he have a mullet ? I saw a guy a few hours ago walking out and he had a mullet. Was it him ? Cause whoever set you up with that guy should beg for your forgiveness ! ”

[frdbooth]

What's your favorite song to blast in the car?

╰        *           ask me anything

“ i can’t get no satisfaction at full volume, open windows and all. now, that — ! that’s some good goddamn music ! ”

[frdbooth]

What's one thing you hope happens this year?

╰        *           ask me anything

“ i’m not hoping for a lot, buddy, i’m trying to keep a low profile this time around. might or might not be hiding here from some big shoot asshole who lost a million dollars. ” he half-shrugged. “ maybe i’ll spend some time with my kid, hun ? been feeling a little guilty about that lately. you never know, year has barely started, lots can happen. ”

[frdbooth]

hcathers‌:

Returning to work and into a rather sparse duty was perplexing for the security guard. While she was aware it was due to maternity concerns, not having to remain heedful for the whole day felt askew–like she was a trail of dust that loitered around when her supervisor told her to take her second break for the night. Adamant as she was inside, however, the typically irascible blonde had become more tuned with her forthcoming mothership and in turn cautious for the sake of her twins. It was a struggle, with the ceaseless quagmires that had been unfolding including the calamity with Cyrek’s friend and her innately tense demeanor. But she was doing the best that she could still, the moments spent with her little family delivering at least a swell of delight amidst rigid lines and restraining her from going utterly amuck. 

A bottle of water in hand whilst she surveyed her surroundings, she texted her brother-in-law one last time to ensure he was safe, and weaved her way around the establishment. Sulking around when it was not her turn to be in charge made her look awkward, thus, the blonde proceeded to simply perch herself near the bar. This guy–the one offering her a drink, looked like someone who’d had one hell of a night, but still somewhat suave, the versed charm earned a raise of her eyebrow. She shook her bottle. “I have mine, and I’m not allowed to be drinking anyway.” Not a problem, alcohol only served well for when she desperately needed to feel something.  “But thanks. Had a long night? You look like you’re about ready to fucking crash down and wiggle like a fish on a dry land.” 

“ you know what ? i have been told a lot of things in my life, but that i’m ready to crash down and wiggle like a fish on a dry land is simultaneously the most accurate and offensive one i have heard to date. ” yet, he couldn’t help but laugh. still, the smile remained on his lips even after the words had dissipated. — at least fatigue hadn’t robbed him of the ability to laugh at himself. 

it had been a long nigh; his combined losses and gains had all landed him in the exact same spot he had been right before it all started. the quick quips, the feigned charm, and precise reading that was required into winning with a bad hand of poker— all of it came together to land him at that exact spot at that exact moment, lacking the energy to get up from his place and go to his hotel room. “ you work around here, right ? ”

with a small shake of his glass, ford took a sip of the cheap whiskey, allowed it to revitalize whatever scraps of his energy could be saved. “ where the hell is that saying from, hun ? sounds like a southern thing. you from around there ? ”

[frdbooth]

What do you look for in someone to spend the rest of your life with? romantically or platonically?

╰        *           ask me anything

“ i mean, i’m not— looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with, i mean. i’m not looking for anyone to do that with, so there is nothing to be looked for. i’m more than fine on my own ” if anything ford was better off alone, inviting people to his life only seemed to make everything harder, more complicated, “ anyway, as far as temporary company goes, anyone fun would be enough. ”

[frdbooth]

qceenofdance‌:

The moment in which fire meets gasoline? Hana chuckled, ordering another round of her fruity and highly proof cocktail, her manicured nails tapping in thought against the lacquered bartop while doing so. “I’ll hold you to that, handsome.”

She watched intensely, laughing seconds later when the older man pulled out three casino chips from the pocket of his suit jacket. “Alright, but if you lose, I’m taking my sexy ass home.” Hana negotiated, liking this little deal of his. She was up for being a devil’s advocate anyway.

“ I hope so. ” He laughed, drinking the rest of his whiskey, gathering his chips back before standing up in front of her. “ You don’t have to worry about that, baby, I never lose. ” With the noted exception, of course, of all the times he did lose that very night.

Motioning back towards the Casino, with a small bow, laughing softly with the mixture of drunkenness and fatigue, Ford moved in the direction of the blinking lights and repetitive noise that filled those walls. In that room, everything was lively and real. In that room, loss seemed impossible. 

[frdbooth]

damndans‌:

Casinos weren’t Daniel’s thing but he was invited for a dine out with one of his employees to celebrate another landmark with his business. Yet another significant step to have been achieved and he felt like he was on a role with his restaurant. Recently he had just recovered himself from the tragedy that had uncoiled weeks ago but he was no longer in a wheelchair and most of his burns had healed. His place had also been repaired thanks to the help of some donaters he shook hands with on a monthly basis. 

When a man asked if he could buy him a drink Daniel chuckled. Just exactly what he needed. A companion. He was beginning to get bored anyway. “Only if I could buy you one in return.” He replied. He just didn’t like to not be in control when a stranger suddenly approached and did these things. “I’m planning to get hammered tonight though. So I might empty out your wallet.” He joked. 

“ Hey, ” he half-shrugged, “ Money is meant to be used. What’s the point in beating people at poker if I can’t use my earnings to buy a cute guy a drink, hun ? ” and with a smile, Ford moves closer, slides down to the barstool near the other. “ You’ll buy me some cheap whiskey and I’ll buy you whatever you want. How about that ? ”

However tired Ford might have been a second before, however worn out the night of gambling had made him, it was seemed to be washed away with a simple look at the other’s smile. Fatigue could be ignored for the sake of entertainment. Ford was always at his best when he was with other people. “ Name’s Ford. You are ? ”

[frdbooth]

andreaxweber‌:

Andrea heard the sound of the voice and couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape her lips. It hadn’t been the first time she had been called a fairy, it was something that made her smile. “Well that is very sweet of you to say, you can tell them that you have seen one.”She chuckled once again. “One where I am glad to have Spring coming around, Winter isn’t my personal favourite time of the year. Thought I would stop and smell them before working again.” 

“ Now, it’s too late, I already destroyed the kid’s dreams. You should have showed up sooner. ” And there is a smile there, splattered across his features, wide and showy, and awfully intrigued. Ford liked people who were different, there was no other way around it. “ You are living the life, I wish I could be living, kid. ” He chuckles, soft, low. “ What do you do for a living that allows to just stop like that and smell the flowers ? ”

[frdbooth]

reneehq‌:

   gambling wasn’t one of renée’s vices but as she found herself in las vegas after a quick and impulsive move to calada estates, she thought that she might as well enjoy herself. the woman had been talking to various people throughout the night, but they were more of the younger people on hen dos and birthday parties that were polite enough to humour an old lady instead of embarrassing her. as some people moved on, she stayed in the same place, ordering more and more drinks for her tab that she would gasp at by the end of the night. she had worked hard for her money and didn’t really understand how she had managed to save so much in new york city but she had worked hard for it; she was just at a loss of what to do with it.

catching the eye of the other, the woman smiled. “best drink buyer? i was unaware that was such a sought after title.” she couldn’t help but chuckle. renée was already intoxicated, a choice that her body wasn’t going to be thankful towards in the morning but there wasn’t like she had any responsibilities to fill any more. “sure, why not? surprise me.”

“ But— What ? How ? ” Ford shook his head in feigned shock, a smile still splattered across his lips. “ So much hard work I’ve put into being known for my title, and you haven’t heard of it ? I must fix it immediately. One drink, no, every drink you want from now on its on me. ” And unable to keep a straight face for much longer, a small laugh breaks through, his pretend-horror disappearing into his usual charm. 

“ Hmm. ” He shook his head for a moment, “ Imma guess your favorite drink, that’s better than any surprised. ” He pointed between ahead, movement empty and lacking direction, his eyes studied her from head to toe, “ I’m thinking classic, stylist, probably doesn’t like it when people think you are fragile... A Manhattan. Did I get it right ? ”

[frdbooth]

i might be mia until friday because we have been taking extra precautions and working a little more because of covid-19

[frdbooth]

prxphcts‌:

In his youth, and everlastingly, Cyrek was difficult with authority figures, those who were older than him– he hadn’t gotten along with his foster parents, not for anything they did ( they tried their hardest to help him, they tried like fuck to keep him out of trouble, I feel numb, make me better, make me better ) but for the resentment he held toward his own. The tremulous hatred that had festered and diseased him to learn the atrocities of his father had been virulent to his youth, carrying it around in his own Pandora’s box. It was no wonder that he ended up being what everyone expected: wasted potential, street trash, bust his kneecap on the street corner and spurt blood, a tight-knit bundle of explosive temper, pending moodswings and copper-tasting violence. He and Ford had met as kindred individuals, except somewhere along the way, it had evolved, from jokes and jests to a genuine, mutual connection, a raw honesty of his blackened youth he’d had to survive through, breathe through. There were some pieces of his past as an adult that he kept quiet out of shame, for once caring about someone’s opinion of him, where they held him in the position of their lives. Baring himself to Ford felt like pain, like every experience he should have had in his youth piled up on the freeway and blew up, simultaneously forcing air into his lungs, a stupid, reckless kid’s drowned lungs retching water. He would never admit it, but Ford was the father he’d wished he’d had growing up, not the one he had been stuck with– and he might as well be, with his mother a mere forty-nine years old ( and the reek of whiskey on his face to hear words he won’t ever forget, if the condom hadn’t broken, you wouldn’t be here ) and a mistake, the first of many his mother made. “My heart is thirty, my body is twenty-one, and my fuckin’ driver’s license says I’m twenty-eight. Riddle me that.” Shaking his head, he imbibed on his Coquito, adding, “Please, I’d sooner take care of your ass. I’d worry that they’d forget about you.”

The blush that flooded his features was undeniable when the words you turned out to be one Hell of a man split the air, turning his olive skin red as a beet. Compliments were so fucking hard to take, a big pill to swallow, forcing away the pinpricks of moisture in his eyes, hands lifting to his blonde hair to restlessly fuss with stray pieces. “Thank you… I don’t– know about that, I’m just… I’m tryin’ to survive. I think.” Shit, exactly at what point and how was he meant to tell his adoptive father that he’d tried to kill himself again? Again? Swiveling in his stool to face the man after he had gulped another mouthful of the coconut-flavored alcoholic beverage down, his double-pierced brow quirked, a nervous laughter escaping him before he could hold it. The story of the whole loveless marriage could come up another day, or later, sticking to the… less complex side of it. “My love life has been… fuckin’ complicated… I wish you’d been around for advice, actually,” the vocalist paused, searching for his words and frowning, “I… fell in love with… my best friend. I guess you remember Damian. In passin’. We kinda… y’know.” Cyrek lifted his hands to try to formulate a gesture for it without actually saying it, rarely shy talking about his sex life, but this was– just different. Nobody wanted to hear their kid literally admit they were screwing or have the image in their head. It had happened, though, and it had been a stupid decision that had almost ruined him ( he might as well have proclaimed his fucking love for him when those scratching hands clasped his waist and saved himself the trouble ). 

“But… he skipped town and a lot of other shit happened, bad shit. It kinda sucked… but it’s okay. I’m datin’ a girl now. Her name’s Lucy. We’ve been together since January, had a few dates before… and the music thing took off. Like I hoped. I headlined House of Blues in Chicago last tour. I just dropped a third album in December, it went off the fuckin’ shelves like hotcakes. It was insane… but actually, um, I thought about you a lot, ‘cause I really wanted to tell you somethin’ important–” Pausing, unsure what to do with his own hands for a second, he decidedly reached for Ford’s hand and clasped it in both of his, giving it a squeeze and offering a sincere smile. “I had a baby. She’s my baby. A daughter. Amaris. So you’re like– a fuckin’ grandad, and I just… I really want you to meet her. She needs her grandpa to dote on her, y’know.”

“ please, kid, thirty years old and you still don’t know you can’t trust the government ? ” ford slapped his arm softly, shook his head. as if in disappointment, but there was a smile there, wide, kind, warm. for a moment, any bystander looking in, could see that —for a moment there, they were only father and son; enjoying a moment together, as if dna, as if real parents and children, as if the rest of the world was not a thing. “ damn driver’s license. ” he chuckled, low, soft.

in between one sentence and the other, cy started, and ford listened, nodding along, ignoring his drink altogether. in between one motion and the other, ford gave up on his joke, allowed himself only the same, soft smile he could only ever offer a handful of people. in between some point and the other, the jokes were off and ford had to sit there and come to terms with every other bad thing that happened to the poor kid. — enough was enough wasn’t it ? couldn’t life just give him a break ?

“ my advice is always the same, kid. you are too good for them. buy a champagne bottle, put it all on red, enjoy the rest of the night. ” he tried to laugh it off, to make a joke out of his constant disappearing act, but somewhere halfway through it, the facade slipped. somewhere in that i wish you’d been around for advice, his face shifts softly until the ever-present smile is worn down, until it disappears. — and it’s not that ford isn’t proud, not that he doesn’t want to here, not that cy couldn’t just keep talking and he would gladly listen — it’s just that guilt, that that little stab of unwanted responsibility, of his presence in other people’s lives felt too big to ignore. — ford had left, he always did, he always would. sometimes, it felt a little cruel, letting the kid get so damn attached to him. “ come on, you didn’t need me. ” 

cy kept talking though and the words kept failing him. it was an usual sight to behold: stanford jay booth, unable to come up with a single comment, void of snarky remarks or jokes in response to his words. the moment goes on and on and then, " you got a kid ? ” he means to react but there is nothing on his face. “ you got a kid ? ” there is a laugh, short, incredulous. “ holy shit, kid, you got a kid ! ” and it’s only then that the reality of it all really gets to him. ford gets up immediately, pulls him into another hug, but there is no shortage of affection that will feel like enough for this moment “ congratulation, goddamn, kid, holy shit ! ”

[frdbooth]

hcllcatcrxssing‌:

The second she had allowed that damn varmit into her life, she was certain she would regret it at the end of their whirlwind affair, whatever an onlooker would term it as. Truly, she had no fucking clue how to describe what they had, a mutual understanding and business arrangement with a saucy side of flirting to boost each other’s egos. It was weird, unusual, outlandish, and just like Bonnie and Clyde, it was bound to run for disaster, without that whole mushy love pigshit that came with the infamous couple– of which Whiskey Pete’s casino was insistent upon proudly putting on display thanks to that old beater that was just beyond their entrance doors. Genevieve should have been intelligent enough to recall her shit luck every time she walked into Buffalo Bill’s, as most of its guests were a mixture of barflies and old farts instead of ignorant tourists who were easy to manipulate this late at night. When they worked together, they could make a great team; tonight was one of those nights even she couldn’t help the con man down on his damn luck in the mud, unable to pull herself out of the trenches. Fortunately, she didn’t have to indulge all of this to him without getting what she wanted out of him first; for the moment, that was a free drink. “Copycattin’ me, old man? You can’t afford me. Ya’know my usual, don’t you?” Sweet Vermouth on the rocks with a twist. Overcomplicated for someone who claimed to prefer simplicity at this juncture in her life, furthering her complexion as a woman who was much more than she let on.

Sitting up straight in her seat when he crossed over to her, the brunette was lifting her hands to pin the one side of her hair back, exposing a quite revealing scar that marred a jagged path across the side of her scalp, interrupted by a voice in her ear that ran chills down her spine. Not the bad kind. Or maybe they were. She could never really decide. “Keep whisperin’ to me like that and I’ll be trying to rev up your actual Clyde,” she half-joked. Genevieve wasn’t above a challenge and she’d definitely resort to it if she thought it would get her somewhere. After a split second had passed, the younger woman smirked to herself, the other half of her long brunette tresses curtaining it in her expression, choosing to give him the runaround for her own entertainment. What was the fun if she killed the mouse already and squandered his tired hopes of catching the big one for the night? “Have ya hit your head an’ lost all your manners?” she mocked a scoff in his direction, pinning her hair successfully and turning her hazel eyes to lock onto his, her small hand latching onto his jaw and tauntingly smacking glossy, pink lips at him, drawling, “Where’s my kiss, ‘fore you drain me of everything I have? Might have a few pointers for ya, but you gotta work for it. Wine and dine me.”

with her, the back and forth was golden. exactly the breath of fresh air he needed, precisely the kind of conversation that was bound to wake him up. all she had to do was speak and then, his smiled widened. — ford offered her the same usual charm he offered every stranger; as though he had something to sell, as though she was ready to buy it. “ please, genevieve. ” his feigned offense barely lasted a second on his features. “ this is not age, babey. this is experience. ”

ford didn’t think there were many people as smart as him out there, but if that there was someone that came damn close it was genevieve. in that quick-fire relationship, in between quips and jokes, flirts and lies, there was the hint of excitement he could never really say no to. — if ford could choose the way his impending demise played out, then he would choose for her to lead it. outsmarting him despite all unlikelihood, leaving him at the wreck of his own decisions with nothing but a smile. — that was one hell of a woman. 

“ please, gen, you know you can’t handle me. ” he chuckled and put distance between them, only enough so that he has room to ask for her drink, only enough so that the barman can come between them, fill his whiskey glass, give her her order. 

when she scoffed, he laughed. they were stuck in a dance. two steps to the right, one to the left, here, there. “ i apologize, ma’am. ” and as though he had to exemplify his words, he bows a little, “ please—  ” ford makes a show of waving his arms around, showing the two seats near them. “ allow me to spoil you with the cheap drinks this place has to offer. ”

[frdbooth]

ladies can be little a evil. as a treat.