OPEN STARTER @anchoragestarters ( unlimited )

Two months or so had passed since Benny had learnt he was basically a bastard - hadn’t been a surprise then, certainly felt like a joke now. He’d gotten the address and contact info of the fucker who his mom cheated with, but had managed to perfectly ignore that impending disaster.

Instead he remained, as ever, doing a shit job attempting to righten his very bad image. Which included trying to be nicer to people and not doing as much booze and drugs. He’d even stopped buying cigarettes. Fine… for the past three days. Worst of all: he’d attempted to sleep around less. Which led to why he was feeling exceptionally cranky today. He worried he was some kind of sex-addict. 

He threw back the double espresso and threw the cup towards the trashcan. It hit the side and fell to the side. He stared at it for a long time.

“Don’t be an ass,” he told himself with gritting teeth and walked over to pick it up again. Couldn’t help noticing a set of eyes staring as well. He wanted to say something rude or obscene, but instead uttered: “Played soccer, not basketball, my throwing skills are shit.” 

Visiting his favorite coffee shop was almost a daily routine. An americano on the side and heavy book about physics on the other. The usual heavy flannel had been discarded during the spring to be exchanged for short-sleeved t-shirts that kept him comfortable during the warmer weather.

The bounce of cardboard on the trashcan nearby pulled him out of his trance and made him turn around to look at the origin of such terrible aim. He finally spot Benny when the guilt was immediately acknowledged, even without a word from the psychic's part.

"Nobody telling you anything, bud." Noah retorted before scanning the other up and down. Oh, he had heard about Benny; with Lou, rumors didn't stay hidden for too long. Add that to the whole issue with Fallon and the psychic had some opinion about Benny already. "What got you all so stressed anyway, hm?"

@thvnderr

WHERE: busy street, anywhere with a lot of footfall WHEN: noon-ish (no specific date, just current) WHO: anyone! ( @anchoragestarters ) CAP: 0/4 (may extend it if i feel like it!)

Min wasn't trying to make a whole trip out of coming here. In fact, he'd only come to this part of town to pick something up for his cousin (who'd argued that, if Min was going to act like their car belonged to him, he might as well do something 'useful' with it) and he was quite intent on grabbing what he needed and getting back out just as quickly. As he strode out of the parking lot and rounded the corner onto the sidewalk, he removed the sunglasses he'd been wearing and moved to put them in his pocket; they were designer, a second-hand throwaway given to him by Tomo and maybe the most expensive accessory he owned. He used them for driving, mostly, because the glaring white of a cloudy morning sky tended to irritate his eyes. Min had always been a little clumsy, enough that he fumbled and dropped the glasses as he moved to put them in his pocket. Frantic eyes scanned the street, busy with people coming to and fro, headed for the various shops that lined the roads, their location not immediately obvious to him. When he did catch sight of them, it was just a moment too late.

"Wait a mi--" CRUNCH. That was the sound of the shades being crushed under the weight of another person's foot. Even from where he stood, he could see that the lens were cracked beyond repair and the frames had twisted and warped. He could swear he felt his organs deflate. "You stepped on them," said Min, his voice sounding miles away. And then, muttering to himself, he added "I mean, of course you did. What else was going to happen? Middle of a busy fucking street, my own bloody fault but---" He looked back at them, voice raised to a normal volume once more. He tried to laugh it off, not wanting to look too much like he was on the verge of losing it, but there was a discomfort behind the laughter that was difficult to ignore. "You just stepped on them?"

Running errands for the Sugar Lounge's high hierarchy had become an usual side gig for Bronx. From picking up props to visiting sick dancers and bring medicine or food. He would even run around town as the owner's personal assistant. Honestly, he felt a bit stupid. At least with the gang he got to bake nice little treats for Cy's children and spoil himself a little between meals, but now? The (current) black haired man trotted around the area as he crossed out chores from his list. Such was the busy schedule, that clever eyes would usually notice shades sliding through the pavement and right under his boot, but his attention was entirely focused on the handwriting on the paper in his hands.. The crack of the glass was barely enough until the voice of the unfortunate owner reached his ears. "Uh?" he inquired, his own index and thumb pushing upwards his own shades to look at the mess under his foot. Ah, shit.

"This is fucking bad luck, dude. I'm so sorry." Bronx sighed. He didn't even try to pick them up, they were far too gone to salvage anything, but he still crouched down to look at the brand. "Oh, these were like... expensive expensive." He pointed out before bolting up straight again. "Are you gonna... make me pay for them or...?"

the resonance of those words, flowing effortlessly from their lips, strikes a chord within her, a symphony of conflicting emotions echoing through her soul. in the contemplative hush that ensues, 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴, pausing at the precipice of her thoughts, deliberates the value of her forthcoming words. her bonds with the bastards resonate profoundly within her, each connection a sacred thread to her existence. she harbors no inclination to blur these lines of camaraderie, yet she possesses an inherent penchant for candor. "you see," she begins, her voice a melodious cadence that belies the gravity of her proclamation, "if you promised me that i’m the only person you called darling, i’d vomit right here and now and it wouldn't be pretty." 

"enter if you must," she concedes, her tone laced with a hint of remorseful resignation. "but do so with the awareness that you may find naught but dust bunnies awaiting your arrival." her apology, sincere though it may be, carries an undercurrent of whimsical resignation, especially once the giggles ensue. "it has been an eternity since i last graced these walls with my presence. one can only speculate as to the mysteries that lie beyond that threshold."

it defies reason how she finds charm in such self-deprecating musings, yet therein lies the enigmatic allure of her character—a paradoxical blend of pragmatism and romantic idealism. "i was scarcely aware that my presence possessed such enchanting qualities," she retorts with a playful twinkle in her eye, a subtle dance of wit and whimsy unfolding between them. “i don’t know if i’ve said directly so, but it’s been a pleasure to meet the new treasurer of our little group.”  a pause silences her mouth, “and yet i wonder, why is someone so charming slumming it up with my tough love companions. is there something you’re not telling me sky?” 

"There is beauty even in the horror of things..." Sky hummed, "but I do admit that throwing up would not be the most lovely sight of the day." He admitted with harmonious laughter and a pearly smile. "But no need to worry your guts; 'darling' is a term I use to refer to most people. A little habit well-inherited from my mother." And so, he pushed forward with the boxes, being met by the sleepy complain of a creaky door and the now disturbed bed of dust on the floor. "Will you be needing help with the cleaning?" the heir wondered after placing the last box inside.

"A double take might be needed, then." He replied with a shorter smile and a soft nod of assurance. Brown eyes traveled over the walls and windows of the apartment. "Have you decided on decoration already or will it be more of an eclectic process?" he questioned once his eyes went back to hers. Love's words caused yet another easy smile on his lips, for their words knocked on doors that guarded many unspoken things. "I am nothing but an open book for whatever it is you desire to ask, dear." LIES. "But to answer your query, I have become friends with people that are part of the gang. Most, if not all of the members are good people and my beloved is part of them as well. I noticed the gang was having some financial problems and I offered to step in temporarily to help them fix this situation."

Letting out a sigh of relief at the revelation that she was in familiar company, Bernadette returned Noah's smile with a small one of her own. "I wasn't looking where I was going either, so it's a little bit my fault too. Sorry," she replied, unable to stop her knee-jerk reaction to take the blame for whatever went wrong. That reflex was still alive and well in the marrow of her bones, a demon that refused to be fully exorcized. But thanks to their years of friendship overseas, she knew that there was no judgment coming from Noah. He'd always been abundantly patient with her as she learned to navigate London's elite social circles, and he'd always offered a safe place to land when she needed an ally. For the support he offered when she needed it most, Bernie was eternally grateful. A more sincere grin appearing on her face at the question, the brunette considered it for a moment, mentally going through the log of books she'd already devoured that year. "Let's see... if you count audiobooks and non-fiction, which I absolutely do count, I think I'm at around... 30 books into my reading goal for this year," she remarked, taking note of the pile of books in his arms for the first time. "Are you researching something? Or did you get a job here recently?" she wondered in earnest, all too familiar with Noah's indelible work ethic.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. A common question thrown her way since the older times when sneaking her out of crowded events and helping out with whatever pushy social situation she had been dragged into. More books kept going into empty spots, some of them earning a quick dust-off with a rag he was keeping half-tugged around his belt. "That's an impressive number; spring just arrived and you already read more books than I did in the past couple of years," he congratulated her with a little smile. "So which one is the favorite so far?" Noah pulled over a little stool so he could reach the higher shelves that were even taller than himself. "I came to help the owner with a creaking desk and they asked me if I could help around with these books. I don't know how good I'd do in a place like this one; ain't reading much of different topics and — oh, could you pass me those three books over there, please? — and I'm taking a little break from research since I got burnt out last week."

# 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁

they were the beacon of kinship in the tempest of her life, the wayward daughter lost amidst the blizzard winds of fate, only to find solace and sanctuary within the warm embrace of her found family in anchorage. amongst the bastards, she discovered not just comrades but kindred spirits—sisters, brothers, cousins, and confidants—bound by the intangible threads of destiny that drew them together despite the vast expanse of their differences. it was the crucible of shared strife that forged the unbreakable bonds that tethered her to them, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of existence. though she had walked this earth for three decades, she found herself seeking solace in their embrace like a lost child seeking refuge in the arms of a loving parent. there were still remnants of her chosen family who remained oblivious to her return after three long months, lost in the throes of their own lives. how was she to gather them under one roof, to share in the warmth of faux familial ties? the prospect of a family dinner at the ivy, though tantalizing, seemed fraught with the promise of dysfunction.

instead, 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 enlisted the aid of a few fellow members, their assistance conscripted into the laborious task of moving boxes up a flight of stairs to her humble abode. with each heave and ho, she offered fervent apologies for her abrupt departure, her gratitude pouring forth. "thank you for this. i cannot express my gratitude enough. and before you ask, of course, I’m feeding you once you put that one down. it goes in the bedroom for now. you can just leave it in the hallway while you think of what you’re in the mood for.” she declares, her voice a melodic hymn of appreciation. she also has plans to bestow upon each of them souvenirs from her travels, a token of her affection and a subtle entreaty for them to accompany her on her next journey. "i’m sorry I tricked you into helping me, but I promise there’s more surprises for you!," she confesses, a mischievous twinkle dancing in her eyes, betraying the excitement that thrums beneath her composed exterior.

Not long had passed ever since the heir had met Love. His rather improvised entrance to the gang had him with hands full from day one and just during her scarce visits, Sky had struck friendly conversation, always offering a bright smile and kind words regardless of the amount of papers or roses he had been holding. "Always delightful to exchange some pleasantries with you." Were his words at all times.

So now, with hands full again but this time with boxes and trinkets, he frowned a little as the result of the effort, but Sky Chun would never complain. The leather jacket resting on recently carried furniture, the impeccable light blue shirt with sleeves rolled up to allow better mobility. "Nothing but my pleasure to help you, darling. While I am certainly enchanted with the idea of some food, I would not like it if you were to get your kitchen dirty so early. You just moved after all." Sky commented after placing a box next to the bedroom door. "Are you sure you don't need me to place this inside?" he asked. "If it is not too intrusive, Love, dear, is this a sign that you will be charming us with your presence more often?" Sky questioned once again with a soft tilt of the head, curiosity permeating through the words. Of course he had heard about the surprise she mentioned, but the last thing he wanted was for her to feel any kind of pressure around the idea of reciprocity.

"Oh? What was your costume? I'm sorry, dear, but now I'm curious." Bronx was quick to ask. Nothing could be worse than the cupcake-guy, right? The ignorant dancer was for from being aware of the traumatic situation experienced by the other; don't mind him, so much hair dye has numbed his sensibility a little.

"Right? The lounge is perfect for that. Sluts usually die first in horror movies, but I'm guessing the killer or killers have a much more serious agenda, rather than hunting me down just because I showed my ass cheeks on stage." Bronx shrugged and reached for the abandoned drink right in front of him. A sip to unadulterated liquor cause da feline little smile on his lips.

"You did? Well, you make your own clothes, babe? The outfit is really good. It could get you a pretty penny around here if you can handle the sewing machine; a bunch of us are usually looking for new costumes and accessories for our shows." He commented before taking yet another sip, but this one longer. Bronx couldn't help the giggle after the flattery came his way. Of course, he enjoyed complimenting others, but receiving the nice words would always be an extra great feeling. "It's just honesty, darling, really. You've got some silver tongue yourself, do you usually compliment people as well or should i feel special about that?" he asked. "I do make people cry, but not just because of my looks; it's a big factor, but definitely not the only one."

Of course his mother was feeling "weak" after Seojun commented about traveling on his own for some days. And of course she had dramatically requested some tea for her maladies. There he goes, the prodigal son with a groceries bag wrapped around his arm, as his boots dented the snow of the curve as he walked towards the car. He had perceived someone at the peripheries, but not giving it too much importance, stopping instead to reply to a text, but the action was quickly interrupted by a brash collision on his back. Of strong body and even firmer temperament, Seojun simply looked back just to see papers flying and someone laying down on the cold.

"gwaenchanayo?" — 'are you okay?' Was the first reaction at the familiar language. Seojun looked ahead and noticed his car parked not far away, then his sights went back to the poor... musician? he had caught on one of the pages, noticing the partitures on them. "Let me help you." The fighter stated as he extended a hand to the other for support. "If you can hold my groceries, I'll pick up your sheets."

Seeing Sky's face came as a strange sort of relief. Karam could not quite say he trusted Sky, because trust was not a thing he gave out too willingly, but he liked him well enough. In so many ways, the two were nothing alike. While Sky's family were vastly wealthy, Karam had spent years on the streets, scraping and scratching just to get by. Sky was bright and friendly and good with customers, in all the ways Karam most certainly was not. Although Karam had not fully made up his mind about Sky, for he had enough strange secrets of his own to know not to take anybody in this town at face value, he was happy to have his company. Karam felt a shallow sigh escape from his own chest, and he was aware now just how tense he had been.

“I was just leaving,” said Karam, glancing briefly back over his shoulder before snapping his gaze back on Sky. “I like places like this. It's good to escape for a little while.” In the past, he might have said he preferred the quiet here, that the city was too busy and hectic, but these days, a heavy cloud seemed to hang over the place. For the most part, people were going on with their lives as normal. Karam was still forced to jump over the same ever-nonsensical obstacles laid out for him by stubborn customers. But, at the very same time, the drone of the city was just so slightly muted by the gloom. Unable to make much sense of it all, Karam had been drawn more than ever to the natural world, a place where he understood the rules. No matter what, the leaves would wilt and fall from their branches and the pigeons he raised on the roof of the apartment block would come and go as they pleased each day. “In any case, I'm fine. This place, not so much.” Any elaboration on that was dismissed as too much work. He shook his head like a wet cat, dislodging most of the dead foliage caught up in his hair, and finally moved to meet where Sky where he stood.

And Sky was right; the sun was sinking ever lower and the sky was rapidly darkening. He thought to ask why Sky might have come all this way, only to turn back so readily, but he decided against it. For reasons he couldn't quite justify, Karam had no desire to talk about the pass. His only interest lay in leaving it behind. He strode on forward, expecting Sky to meet his pace or, at the very least, trail behind. “We've never met outside of work, have we?” asked Karam, abruptly turning to face Sky head-on. "Right now, we may as well be strangers." Although it was not immediately clear, this was Karam's way of being nosy.

"There certainly is wild beauty and mystery to places like this one." Sky looked around momentarily, taking in the crooked silhouettes and the rotting trunks of some trees. There were spots where some wild flowers grew, creating fluid lines full of live against the hard angles of twisted branches. It was not so different from the city, was it? Horrors and tragedy filling out every corner and the occasional moment of light shining through the darkness. A little smile played on his lips at the sudden wave of peace, of ignorance that permeated through the ground of this area. "It does feel good. Relatively comforting grounds hidden from the depravity that has been clouding the city. It is dark solace amongst the daylight damnation that has been drowning Anchorage for some months now."

Coworkers that had not shared much in the past had still found a way to connect through glances and unspoken favors. Sky would always handle customers, coming in even during busy times even if his shift was not scheduled that way. In exchange, he would let Karam assist with more calming tasks such as organizing the store or helping with the preparation of bouquets. It was a silent, yet agreeable dynamic, and even with the heir's talkative nature, he appreciated the moments of silence and introspection he had around Karam.

Sky let the other walk by before following closely behind and finally catching up, the setting sun tainting the day in pink as it welcomed them back into human civilization. "We never have." He confirmed, followed by a hum of acknowledgement at the last statement. "So you feel comfortable in nature?", Sky inquired, a curious gaze of his one posed on his company. "Something tells me you are a person of many talents, yet you work at the flower shop."

( the local library, late march, afternoon ) @anchoragestarters

Strolling through towering stacks of books, eyes wandering high above her head as she attempted to take in all of the titles in the history section, Bernadette wasn't searching for anything in particular that afternoon, waiting instead for a book to call out to her, beckoning for her to take it home. Though she'd dropped out of university only a semester into her collegiate journey, the brunette found solace in learning, even if she had to do it on her own. And with her eyes so fixed on the tomes above her, craning her neck to make out the smaller print on faraway spines, it was only a matter of time before she bumped into a fellow patron, lost in her own head. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she blurted with an apologetic chuckle. Blinking back at the figure, the artist felt the compulsion to fill the beat of silence between them, a hard habit she'd yet to break. "I don't work here, if that's what you're thinking," Bernie informed the other patron, plastering on an inviting smile, hoping that her expression didn't betray how viscerally uncomfortable she was with small talk. "I know the cable-knit sweater sort of makes it look like I do, but I'm just browsing," she rambled in an exhale. "I come here a lot, though, so maybe I can point you in the right direction?"

The current clerk of the store was no stranger to Noah's affinity to helping around and so, it took very little to convince the physicist to drag some boxes near the back shelves and organize some misplaced books. It was until he bumped his back against someone, that he snapped out of his own thoughts, reaching down for a couple of books that had flew off from his arms as the other person blabbered apologies and excuses in a voice he knew of very well. It was until the question when Noah turned around to face her with a little half-smile. "It's alright, Bernie," he reassured her, "it was my fault, I didn't look where I was going." Always the softer tone with her; ever since they met overseas, there was this vibe about her that made him act carefully if she was withing his vicinity. "You would make a good librarian, though. How many books have you read this year, hm?", he asked as he reached down for a couple of books to place them back on their original spots.

Here's a riddle: how do you say I'm sorry and I love you in the same sentence?

What about: you're the only one who ever accepted me for who I am and I betrayed you?

Perhaps it is said in the longing; the endless distance between them that had nothing to do with measurement and everything to do with the hands? Hands — how he'd once grasped hers as her bodyguard trailed them, a mischievous grin on his features and beam on hers. He hadn't hesitated to grab hers, and she hadn't hesitated to tighten her fingers around his grasp. Meaning, I trust you. Meaning, Don't let me go.

Perhaps if Kittiya were less of a coward, she would tell him that she regretted listening to her family. Would tell him that she should've trusted her instinct — after all, he had seen through the glitter and carefully practiced false pretenses; he had chosen to be her friend not for her family nor her wealth — but simply because it was her. Wasn't it the bare minimum that she would do the same? Her fingers curled around the flute of champagne, if only for something else to hold onto.

Perhaps if she were less of a coward, she would say this: I haven't felt like myself ever since I betrayed you.

I don't know what to do with my hands when they're just hands.

"Lynx." There was a pleading in her tone that her family would've frowned upon, his given name sounding unfamiliar on her lips when she'd only ever used his pet name during their friendship. Once, she'd been afraid of going against her family; of what they would say if she defended him. But now? The hatred in his eyes; the poison in his words. Whatever her family could have said — it wouldn't be worse than this. "All those years ago — I was young. I was scared. I shouldn't have listened to them, but—" Kitty choked on the words, gaze moving to the ground in front of them. "What can I do to fix this?" Or am I eight years too late? Please don't say it's too late.

Hers was once a face that represented comfort, hope and a light at the end of the tunnel. "If someone like her can trust me —," Lynx used to think, "then I cannot be that bad of a person, right?" He would tell her of a place he had found, of the best coffee hidden inside a dingy bar that only opens at ungodly hours in the basement of an art gallery. The puppy would grab her hand; hers delicate, soft and taken care of. Meanwhile his was rarely clean, chipped nail polish, rough on the palms and the knuckles; he knew no kindness, but for her, Lynx was willing to learn.

A dynamic that stayed as friendship, even when she owned the sighs of his heart. When he would offer that cup of coffee and wait with expectant eyes as her lips touched the beverage. A big grin at her reaction and stars taking a swim in the dark of his eyes. Hopes and plans were soon shattered when she entered the courtroom. His original confident self was kicked to the depths of hell as she stated her testimony against him. Seven years in a shithole had been nothing in comparison to the heartbreak he felt at that instant.

His name was foreign on her tone, even with the venom spilling from behind his fangs, a spine drilled into his heart at the formalities he was forcing her upon. The warm spark of their past had been stomped on and buried six-feet-down.

Bah. Excuses.

Lynx felt the rage pool in his heart, squeeze it out of any compassion or love he once held for her. Seeing her struggling to speak, looking to the ground would have easily moved him to his knees in the past, but now? "Wow", he scoffed. "You're such a great actor. Tone's similar to the one used at court." No warning before he threw the jab. "Kittiya... Kittycat..." her own pet name feeling like burning iron at the back of his throat "You want to fix this?" Voice in a higher pitch as skepticism spat at the air. "I don't think there's anythin' to fix, doll. Very much picked your side back then. You were scared? Holy shit! The princess was scared!" a dry chuckle left his lips, expression full of amusement before it soon dropped dramatically as he closed the space between them, noses brushing as the permanent sadness of his eyes was extinguished by rage and rage alone. "Well, how do you think I was fucking feeling, hm?" aggressive whispers fanned at her face. "I spent eight years taking care of myself while you were doing exactly what? Ah, right... enjoying your fucking freedom. Burying your rich ass in daddy's money while I cried and rotted in a fucking cage and WHY?! Because the baby was young and scared." Lynx takes a couple of steps back, spitting on the ground that separated both of them now. "Fuckin' liar" the ex-convict hissed, "there's no fixin' this. You can't give me back my time, my plans, my future." More words said between clenched teeth. "If there's anythin' you can do is leaving me the fuck alone. Go the fuck back to whatever fucking hole you crawled out from and for everybody's sake... stay in there."

But I remember you.

"I can guess why," an impolite snort escaped their nostrils. Arlo's hauteur did little to disguise itself, even on the job. Were he not Freya's old friend, she would have spared him the courtesy of the restraint in her words on the seldom occasions that she spoke — that, and the uneasiness that pervaded the atmosphere of the clinical setting. One leg restlessly jiggled as their eyes were already subconsciously planning an escape route, at the risk of pulling the fire alarm and gunning out the bay. The redhead's expression soured, culpable of their own internecine, and their bedraggled hoodie wrinkled as their fingers wound around the zipper and pulled it back and forth.

As he stepped forward, there was the instinctual eyeing of the other human, an ingrained trepidation of true intentions. If he was going to mock her further or not — ah, there it was. Aggravated by the other's verbal prodding, they snapped, "I'm not a cat, I don't always land on my fucking feet, doctor. Just 'cause you got that badge and that fancy degree doesn't mean you get to humiliate your patients, you know." Drop the attitude. Their fingers gripped at the bottom of the bed in the emergency bay, unrefined rage surfacing a cyclone within their amber hues, and they looked to the floor. They were grasping at a cagey remark until his next command halted them in their tracks, and they stood up abruptly. "My clothes? It's my cheek, I'll be fine to stay in these. I don't want to wear the gowns."

No more words were added about the topic of a tied past. While it had been something that had gnawed on his conscience for a long time; eventually the release of guilt had been necessary for survival. Upon encountering Freya back in Anchorage, a wave of relief had hit him and even if the doctor could hardly express it, to see Pixie's face here was a relief as well. So now, he'd be sure to do his job properly.

There was a little smirk present at the acidic retort from his patient as he reached for the stethoscope and a notepad to write something down and then put it back in his pocket. Calm and precise movements versus the raging volcano about to erupt next to him. "I'm just joking," Arlo simply replied, his attention onto them once again. "The hospital is cold and it would be easier for me to check if there's anything else amiss with you." A sigh and a step back; while famously heartless, he didn't lack certain level of empathy, specially with so many patients tended to in the past. "It won't take me more than 5 minutes. I promise. But again, I can let a nurse run the check-up if you'd feel more comfortable. Or we could wait for Freya so you feel safe."

His head lay on the bar top, eyes closed and lightly snoozing away, despite the loud music. Bryn could shut it all out, especially with a few drinks in him. Though now the world was starting to tune right back in as he was sobering. Suddenly lifting his head up he sat up scrunching his nose slightly and looked around before looking over at the man chattering about something, "Ugh." Massaging the space between his eyes before fixing his glasses back onto his face Bryn half rolled his eyes and glances away. Then, turning his head to focus on the male who had come to the bar seemingly to complain.

"Maybe..." Lifting his drink and pointing toward the other, "Keep that attitude though? I bet it will save your life. Hah." Was his suggestion before raising his eyebrows momentarily and then drinking from his glass. Turning his head away he put the glass back down and stretched out his arms along the counter, "What time is it?" Bryn muttered questioningly. Yawning, he glanced around, "What is that," Plucking a Eeyore sticker from his face he gave a look toward it before rolling it up and flicking it away from him. Then scratching at the horse sticker on the back of his right hand, starting to pick at it too. 

Noticing several other stickers also on his clothing. He didn't even want to know what the hell had been going on over the last several hours of his life, "Well," He started, looking at Dae-Hyun again "If I die. I hope it's fun. Like, I get chopped in half by a sword based trap. Or. A meteorite hits me." Bryn shrugs sluggishly, just wanting a really strange and unusual death. Not that he was keen on dying currently. "Or maybe aliens invade and finally end the experiment they've been running on the planet since the beginning." Reaching over he took a final drink from his glass tilting back with it as he finished it off and brought the glass down harsh back to the countertop, "Now that would be really cool."

Eyes traveled to the drowsy one; not really expecting an answer from anyone in particular and certainly not from the drunkard that was just waking up from a clearly wild night. The empath felt a pinch in his head and turned his eyes away from the other before ordering another drink. Dae-Hyun simply grimaced at the recommendation, knowing that a pessimistic outlook was not ideal; but his nature would easily pop out under horrible circumstances like this one.

"It's 2:30 a.m." he informed. Brown eyes scanning the state of the other including the potential early hangover and the stickers all over the skin. "Wild party, huh? Did you get attacked by elementary school students?", he teased after pointing at the Eeyore sticker with his glass.

The bartender brought the drink and the psychic immediately chugged it down, feeling his own senses start to blurry. "A meteorite would be an interesting way to die for sure. Getting chopped... not so sure. I think you'd still feel a shit ton of pain from it, specially if the blade is not sharp." Dae-Hyun pointed out. He chuckled, though, at the idea of the aliens. "So are you an alien type of person?" another thought reached him, a cynical one most likely fueled by the booze he had ingested, "what about ghosts, premonitions and all that shit? Are you a believer?"

𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂 …

 happy 24th birthday dearest BRONX DONG-GEUN  ,

come drop your presents & send wishes if you may                               find out more about character birthdays here !

Oh, Dae-Hyun should definitely be more careful with his words, specially around someone like Dorothy. He felt the acidic taste of guilt hit his tongue when the performer expressed her displeasure. Noah rested back on his seat, relaxing the fingers around his drink and dropping a sigh before looking over at her. He wanted to believe that it had been nothing but a mere accident, a horrible prank played by faith during a night supposed to be filled with scares and frights. On the other hand, every big event that the city had hosted, had been crowned with tragedy. Why did they all keep assisting if they were all nothing but doomed to the worst? "Dorothy..." he wasn't one who desired to pop her bubble, but it seemed just as dangerous that she stayed in the dark about how dangerous Anchorage was. "I'm not really sure it was an accident. Bad things have been happening the past year. It's just too much to be coincidental." Dae-Hyun expressed in the softest tone his own frustration allowed. "Do you move around the city by yourself?"