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"Soo how many broken glasses are coming out of your paycheck tonight?" Kevin's ever sarcastic voice rang out from behind her as he passed by with a tray of finished drinks, perfectly balanced in one hand. Show-off. It was only Emily's third day working here and somehow, he expected her to be full-on pro at this. Sure, she might've embellished her level of expertise during the interview but could you blame her? She needed the job and the tips paid well enough to keep the lights on. Even if all she was good for so far was screwing up practically every order that came her way.
Stifling an eye-roll, Emily tried to keep her voice light-hearted, "Oh you know, probably the same number of girls that you slept with in highschool sooo...none." She flashed him a proud smile over her shoulder, one he did not return in the slightest as he disappeared through the kitchen doors. Yikes. Probably not the best way to get on his good side but, even though Emily was pretty sure he never had one to begin with. Shaking her head in amusement, Emily grabbed a rag from the station, blew her hair out of her face, and started wiping down the front counter to pass the time. She took a quick glance around the space. The night was winding down so there weren't many people still hanging around the bar; just a group of men at the far end of the counter talking way too loudly about the football game from last night. And one of them, she noticed early on, had been staring at her for almost the entire evening. She forced herself to shrug it off though. At least the creeps usually tipped well.
The bar. To Theo, the place was a second home, somewhere he took solace in nearly every week since he’d arrived in Warwick. Back in Brazil, he and his brothers were always frequenting the local pubs, it was where they congregated with the natives and laughed in Portuguese after downing their third caipirinhas in the hour. Now, it was the closest he dared to get to human society, a few nights a week if even that. Coming here for forty years, he’d seen the place go through renovations, drunken brawls, and changes in management; he’d carved his name in the wooden counters and when those had been replaced by granite, he’d etched a small ’T’ with his pocket knife in its fresh stone as a way of marking his history in the one place he’d become such a stationary part of.
Did he know others like him, that swung by the bar just as often? Yes; and he took careful measures to avoid them. The less that knew about what he was, the better. Theo had yet to accept what kind of monster he was, choosing instead to suppress that side of him as much as he physically could handle, trying everything from self medicating to quarantine in the mountains- nothing ever worked. True to the hour, the minute a full moon arose, Theo would turn, and he would go for a kill only to wake the next morning with no memory of how he had gotten here, clothes in shreds and blood streaked across his cheek. The animal inside him was a savage one, and had ruined everything that Theo used to be. Now he was merely a gray shell of his past, empty and desolate.
Luckily, this bar had booze for that; Theo took to the bottle more often than he liked, but it eased the emotional pain he suffered, particularly before and after each new moon. Today was such occasion, just a week after he’d blacked out and wound up some place in by the lake alongside a mangled carcass, this time, a human. It was his first human in years, a boy, and Theo hadn’t felt the same since Tuesday. It was now Friday, and after a tiresome day of downing trees and dragging lumber, he was in desperate need of a drink. He hadn’t slept for days, his curly dark hair was matting, he hadn’t shaved in some time, and his eyes were dark around the edges. In other words, he looked like shit.
Climbing onto his usual barstool, Theo rapped his knuckles on the counter to get the bartenders attention. It was some girl he didn’t recognize and who, if he was being honest, looked far too young to be in a bar to begin with. “Beer.” Theo interrupted her friendly greeting with his grunted demand, his slouched dirt streaked figure drumming fingers on the counter with impatience.
(view spoiler)
As soon as Emily heard the chime of the door opening, she paused and let out an exasperated sigh. Considering it was already half an hour till closing, Emily hadn't been expecting anyone else to come in tonight. She figured that was some universal common courtesy; sparing employees the extra effort by not coming in at the last minute. Clearly someone hadn't gotten the memo. She could hear their fingers tapping non-stop against the counter, trying to her attention. For a second she considered just throwing one of glasses in their face but decided against it. Rude customers were apart of the job description. She signed up for it. So, quieting the urge, she forced herself to turn around and greet them. But with just one look at the guy, Emily was nearly frozen in place. She wasn't sure what she had expected. Even on day three, Emily had seen her fair share of lonely men and troubled drunkards around here and she guessed that anyone who came in this late for a drink probably was going through something. And that's what she tried to tell herself in order to keep from gawking at him. But she couldn't help it--this guy looked like he'd been dragged through hell and never really came back.
She didn't know whether to feel sorry for him or to call the police. Right now, it was an unsettling combination of both.
But still, she managed to plaster on her dimpled grin and start off her scripted greetings before he cut her off abruptly. The corner of her lip faltered, clearly caught off guard by his tone. Any initial feelings of pity towards him were dissolving. Quickly. Jesus, what was this guy's problem?
"Umm..o-okay." She stammered out, mentally kicking herself for the shake in her voice. She cleared her throat and managed a small smile, still trying to keep up the polite front, "Any beer in particular you'd be interested in?"
Did Theo feel sorry? After forty years of the same old shit, he didn’t. Normally he kept his manners at a tolerable decency, something that could pass off as acceptable in public settings such as this one, but not this week. He wasn’t in the mood to play nice, when he had other, more pressing things on his mind- one of them being how in the hell he was going to keep doing this every moon. Locking himself away in the woods so that he didn’t discover newfound abilities in the public eye, avoiding attachment to anyone he could possibly care about because he couldn’t tell his secret, waking up some mornings covered in someone else’s blood not recognizing the brutally murdered body, or bodies, next to his. Theo was ready to die, because if this was what his future entailed, he didn’t want it.
For the first few years Theo had had faith that some cure would come around, that maybe if he continued to resist his transformation that the monster couldn’t consume him. He wouldn’t let himself be this hideous creature, or cave into the violent tendencies that overwhelmed him more often than not. Yet, as of lately, he was slipping, letting go of the faint ghost of what used to be Tèo. It was too excruciating physically and mentally to keep convincing himself that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The mind games didn’t work. His future was bleak. His parents were likely dead or on their way by now, his family having forgotten their two lost sons who had ventured out into the world forty years ago and never come home. There was no way for him to go home, and the supposed curse hadn’t been broken for centuries. Not a single soul left this town and didn’t return within days looking bent out of shape.
Theo had been unfairly punished by this fairytale shit, and he was angry. He almost considered some days stepping outside the town limits, to get a taste of whatever the hell this curse could do to him, because what was worse than being a beast trapped in a cage forever? Theo had trashed his liver with booze, threw himself off cliffsides, and tried all assortments of narcotic overdoses. He went through a phase when he became addicted to testing the limits of his body. Every time, he healed; every time, he walked away without a scratch, not a single bone out of place. That had been a few years ago, and now Theo had settled for grumpily carrying out the rest of his sentence in Warwick’s eternal prison, one beer at a time.
He hardly took notice of the falter in the girl’s soft voice, instead his hard dark eyes narrowed at a particularly rowdy circle of men in the corner booth. In addition to his unfortunate bloodthirst and tendency for murder every new moon, heightened hearing and sight became the norm for him and made public places a bitch when he wanted to mind his own business. The group cackled over a few pints, cards being tossed onto the table by their greedy, beefy hands. He caught the eye of one before he could look away, and the mans eyes glinted with something he didn’t like.
The girl asked him about his beer, and Theo returned his attention to her with an exasperated look on his face. “Make it a shot,” he snapped, “the strongest shit you have.” His temper was short, even shorter with an empty stomach and the boisterous guffaws of the pigs in the corner. It was only a matter of time until he popped, but for now he ground his teeth into his skull and scowled at the bartender. "Keep them coming," he grumbled when the first shotglass was slid across the table on a napkin, his hand shooting out eagerly for it.
Theo downed it in a single gulp, a shadow crossing his face as the aftertaste settled on his tongue. "Why is this shit fruity?" He demanded while she started on the next, setting the shot glass on the counter a little more forcefully than he had intended. "Are you even old enough to work here?" There was a cold edge to his voice, colder than he knew was appropriate, but damn, his blood was boiling. His usual guy would have already set a plate in front of him with shots lined up on the counter before he even stepped foot in the bar at his scheduled ten pm, who was this kid?
Ask anyone who knew her, Emily was not someone who easily lost her cool. Sure, she got irritated every once in awhile but rarely did she ever let her anger spill out for the whole world to see. No, her anger had always been something she directed inwards, with no one in harm's way but herself. Ever since her mother's death,--though Emily much rather preferred the term murder--she figured life to be more manageable that way. Tolerable, at least. And it was fine, she was okay. She was always okay. Even when the urges came, like right now--as every word came out the guy's mouth, her nails dug further into the tough skin of her palms, aching to pierce the surface.
But a voice in her head, a voice that could only be her mother's, always seemed to stop her. It was a temporary relief. An anchor. Although sometimes, she couldn't tell if it was meant to steady her or leave her to drown. Lately, it'd only been doing a pretty decent job of driving her fucking crazy. Hence, another reason why she needed a job; it served as a much needed distraction.
Well, at least it was when testosterone-fueled bastards weren't making things inexplicably difficult. It didn't take Emily long to figure out how men around here practically got off on bossing around a female bartender. And it wasn't anything she couldn't brush off as being nothing more than harmless, bourbon-induced teasing. However, in this guy's case, him being a raging jackass had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol. And therefore, it made it even harder for Emily to excuse, much less ignore.
Don't let him get to you. Don't let him get to you. She tried to take a few mental breaths before addressing him with a smile still on her face. Although now, there was a bit of a sour note behind it. "What's the matter?" She asked, dodging his question with feigned concern as she poured him up another shot. She slid it towards him with a little more force than necessary, her smile turning noticably more smug, "Rough night for Wolverine?"
Theo froze, stonily silent as he returned a skeptical glare across the bar counter. Wolverine? The hairs on the back of his neck were bristling, his fingers curling into a fist on the cold granite countertop. Did she know-? Was she one of them, the poor cursed bastards who couldn’t leave town? He couldn’t discern whether or not she was cursed, and she didn’t smell like wolf to be one of his kind. How had she known, and what was she trying to get at here?
Unsettled, Theo shut his mouth, harrumphing with his elbows back on the counter. Despite his rabid bad mood, it was enough to keep him quiet for a little while. If she knew, there wasn’t anything he could do about it now, and it wasn’t as if her knowing was exactly a threat. He had nothing to lose.
“None of your business,” Theo mumbled with less of an edge, eyeing the shot glass in front of him suspiciously. Was there something in it? Once the bartender turned her back on him to reach for something under the counter, Theo threw his head back and let the cold contents slide down his throat. It hardly had the kick it used to, but then again, maybe it was just her inability to mix a proper drink. With a long night brewing ahead of him, Theo made himself comfortable watching the game above the counter on the flatscreen, anything to keep his mind off of the raunchy conversation he kept getting snippets of every few moments.
The clink of a glass, then laughter; Theo kept his eyes glued to the soccer game. It was funny, some of these players were young enough to be his grandsons. “Hey, sweetheart!” A drawling voice came from off to Theo’s right, and a quick glimpse confirmed that the drunkards were oggling the bartender. “I uh, spilled my drink,” the same man hooted, earning a round of cheers when the girl sighed and left her station with a dishrag.
Emily's brows furrowed slightly at his defensive reaction. Alright, now she positive that something was seriously up with this guy. She doubted someone like him would be that fazed by a bit of harmless name-calling. And it's not like anything was stopping him from investing in a decent razor or carrying himself in a way that didn't look like he had this fight to pick with just about anyone who tried to talk to him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this dude was not the type of company you want around. And judging from the scowl that was practically etched into his face, it was safe to assume he wasn't exactly looking for the company anyway.
Still, her senseless need to relieve any and all offense on her end took over. As usual. "Sorry I...it was just a joke." She apologized with a half-smile. Emily took away the emptied shot glass and quickly scrambled to fix him up another one. Meanwhile, her mouth seemed to rattle on by itself in order to fill the awkward silence, "You don't actually look like Wolverine," she continued, "Well like, maybe a little? But not in a bad way! Kind of like that rugged, tough look from the origin films?" Shut up shut up shut u-,"But not the second one, definitely the first. I know that's not the most popular opinion but if you read the comics, the first one is way more accurate and actually does the characters justice. But, um, that's not the point. The point is uh---the point is..." Kill. Me. Now. "...Wolverine's actually pretty cool. Soo...yeah. Oh and here's your...here." She finally handed him the shot and averted any and all judgemental looks he was probably giving her. Well, that was just great. She probably looked like a fucking psycho with a weird infatuation for X-men. Mentally kicking herself, she opened her mouth to apologize-- again--when the guys at the end of the bar called her over. Looking over at them, snickering and smacking each other on the shoulder, Emily had a feeling that the spill had been more than a little intentional. And in any other moment, she probably would've just told them it was okay and left it alone but at this point, she was grateful for any excuse to avoid talking to this guy--even it meant dealing with another set of assholes. So, shaking off her current state of embarrassment, Emily hurriedly found the mop and made her way around the counter.
The spill was right in between the bar stools where two of the men were seated, still laughing as if there was a joke she clearly wasn't in on. The other one with the staring problem was leaning against the edge of the bar with a beer bottle dangling from his fingertips, watching her. One of men cleared his throat and turned in her direction with a reddened face and a lazy grin that was anything but friendly. "Right here, sweetheart," he pointed towards the spill right in front of him, "Come on now, I don't bite." His buddy next to him busted out laughing and Emily imagined how funny he thought it would it be if she jammed this mop up down his throat but she refrained from asking him. Barely.
Mustering up a fake smile, she walked forward and started mopping up the spill in silence. She could practically feel the weight of their drunken eyes on her, roaming up and down. It was a miracle the mop didn't break in half considering how tight she was gripping it. "Ya' know, when Mike here told me there was a pretty new bartender working here now, I coulda' sworn he was bluffing. But man-" The red-faced man brought his gaze to her chest and back up again, leaning forward enough that Emily could smell the bourbon on his breath, "-aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
Five more minutes, Em. Just five more minutes and then you're off. She fought to reassure herself but that didn't stop the guy from snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her towards him. She'd been expecting some form of unsolicited touching from one of these guys and to be honest, she wanted an excuse to smack them across the face; but the aggressiveness in which he grabbed her sent a spike of panic through her body. For a minute, admittedly out of alarm, it took a second for her brain to catch up to her limbs and move to get out of his hold. But he was twice her size and it took little effort for the burly man to just yank her back into him, chuckling with his buddy at her attempt.
Suddenly, she could feel someone standing right behind her and she realized the man who'd been staring at her all night wasn't standing near the corner anymore. Her mind was reeling with a million ways to get out of this situation--months upon months of training her body to fight back--and yet, she still managed to underestimate how utterly paralyzing fear can be.
Even if the girl had made charming attempts to buffer what he now understood was an insult, it didn’t help his mood any as she had begun to rattle off facts about some comic book film he had never heard of. Rugged, tough? Theo didn’t necessarily think the scruff of his face and unkempt snarl of his curls was exactly what qualified him to be called Wolverine, but her incessant babbling had confirmed that she knew nothing of his… condition. For now, she was oblivious, unless by some uncertain turn of fate he turned right here in this bar. Having just growled and hunched over his elbows, Theo tried to not pay her much if any attention after that, accepting his third drink graciously. She was just a bartender, one he might unfortunately be seeing more often than he’d liked if his usual guy had changed shifts, but he had no intentions of becoming her friend by any means- even if she thought Wolverine was cool.
She went off to take care of the schemed spill off in the corner, leaving him with room at last to breathe. The game was dull, and his team was losing sorely to the point of disappointment. There wasn’t much he did that amused him anymore, after nearly seventy years of life it was difficult to stay entertained. Humans were petty and their presence irritated him, but that went also for any supernatural he encountered anyway. Without a social life and no way to get the hell out of Warwick, this is where he spent his hours- trying to get wasted. He may not have exactly cared for his bartenders and the staff he saw more often than he ought to have, but deep down somewhere was an appreciation for their company and the countless nights they were here to satisfy his insatiable taste for liquor.
That being said, it didn’t sit well with Theo whenever there were loud, fat, rude patrons in his bar. The game became of no interest to him, even if he feigned watching it while he eavesdropped on the conversation that unfolded. By the way she kept her head down and her eyes to the ground, he could sense the dread in her shuffled feet. The assholes in the corner wasted no time making her uncomfortable, their heavy raspy voices slurred over every syllable while their lazy eyes traveled across her body. Theo turned his head to watch, silently seething at the men’s slimy intentions. He may have had no qualms about being callous and harsh to her, but harassment stood in a very different place for him, especially since his little sister had been a victim of such sick harassment.
With some deeply ingrained obligation to protect the girl, Theo quietly stood from his stool, mulling over what he’d even say to them to get them to leave. He didn’t do words, not very often- his fists usually did that work for him- so it wouldn’t come as a surprise as every muscle in his body rippled at the sight of a man’s arm curled possessively around her hips with his face close to her neck. The girl was paralyzed by panic, her mop grasped tightly while those hot foul breaths puffed against her cheek.
It all happened so quickly. Just as one of their grimy hands were slipping around to her backside, one of the seated men went flying backwards off of his stool with a bang. One of the five men gave a shout, throwing a beer bottle at Theo’s head, but he let the thing shatter against his skull without a single flinch. Narrowing his eyes, Theo paid no attention to his perplexed bottle assailant, instead his eyes narrowing at the man who currently held his bartender captive with a look of confusion. “Hey, get lost-“ the pink faced man had begun to say, but Theo wound an arm back and let it fly. His fist made contact with the man’s nose, an earsplitting crack sounding as the man staggered back and released her with a panicked yelp. “My nose- you bastard-” he shrieked holding his face, dropping to his knees as blood dripped mercilessly from between his fingers.
The rest of the men were uneasy, the girl hugging her broom at the counter as she watched the scene unfold in horror. Theo should have left it alone, but the animalistic rage inside of him couldn’t help itself. His heavy footsteps followed the man and his pathetic whimpering crawl across the bar floor, where he had nearly sought refuge to the closest booth when a set of calloused hands gripped his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Theo was hardly gentle in turning the sniveling man around to face him, pinning him by the shoulders to the wall with a bang that rattled the picture frames. The man’s arms came up to defend his face anticipating another punch trembling under the piercing pain of Theo’s unforgiving death grip. “Listen, you fat fuck," I don’t ever want to see you or your buddies in this bar again,” he hissed venomously inches from the man’s face, his fingers adjusting around the collar of his worn flannel.
The bar was quiet, save for the whimpers. Coward. Theo gave him one last rattling shove, before forcefully letting go of his wrinkled shirt. It didn’t take long for the five of them to clear out, with a few of Theo’s “friendly” reminders, but the last one staggered out and let the door shut with the chime of the doorbell to leave the place in silence. It was just Theo now, the bartender having escaped his mind until now. How much of a mess did he look to her now? Did she still think he was cool, for being so violent? It had left him with a small sense of satisfaction to hurt someone in the name of justice, pent up frustrations taken out on that drunken lot to leave him feeling slightly better relaxed.
“Can I get some ice?” Theo smoothed his fingers through his hair, avoiding her eyes and brushing past her to resume his seat at the far end of the bar counter without waiting to hear her response.
It took several moments--or maybe even longer, she couldn't really tell--for Emily to process whatever the hell had just happened. What had just happened? Her mind had completely checked out for the most part and the instances after she'd been frozen petrified, like the fucking coward she was, had played out like some Tarantino film on fast forward--just brawling men, bloody noses, and of course, the unsuspecting anti-hero. It was definitely an odd turn of events. Just a little while ago, Emily would have been fine with idea of never having to see Mr. Ray of Sunshine over there ever again. He was probably the most miserable man on Earth― or at the very least in Warwick―and his surly attitude certainly wasn't doing him any favors. Not to mention, the way he downed four shots in the span of a minute was more than a little concerning.
But nevertheless, the brooding stranger had taken down three grown men and sent them running with their dicks caught between their legs― all with his own bare hands. And Emily didn't know whether to be grateful that he intervened or scared shitless at the ease at which he'd done it.
Fuck. What if he was Wolverine?
Honestly, it would explain alot but right now, Emily didn't feel like encouraging any of her ridiculous comic book theories. All she wanted was the feeling of that prick's arm around her to go away and for this hellish night to finally come to end.
With her heart still pounding fervently in her ears, Emily almost didn't hear the guy's question before he brushed right past her. She lifted her head slightly and watched him walk back over to his stool without so much as a scratch on him. Ice for what, exactly? He barely gave those men a chance to lay a finger on him. But nevertheless, she forcifully blinked herself out her stupor and went behind the bar to dig up some ice from the coolor. It was the least she could do. After wrapping up it up in a cloth and handing it to him without a word, there was a deafening silence that hung in the air between the the two--one that neither of them seemed eager enough to fill. Though Emily was grateful for the sound of TV that was playing out the final minutes of the game, it seemed it a bit out of place after what had just happened. And before she could even think about it, she found herself turning it off. Which definitely didn't make things any more awkward.
"Let's be honest, there was no way the Ravens were winning that one." Emily said with a humorless chuckle, her eyes more focused on the remote she was fidgeting with in her hands. She had no idea what to say to him. Maybe thank you? That seemed like a good place to start.
Now if only she could get her mouth to form the words...
"Soo...what you did back there? That was uh―preeetty awesome." Nice job, Em. You already sound like a complete dumbass! Ugh. Needlessly clearing her throat, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gestured to the ice pack in his hands, "You sure you're okay?"
Wordlessly, the bartender meekly ducked behind the counter and rummaged in a cooler with her back to him. It wasn’t quite fear that rippled off her skin in waves but perhaps apprehension at the idea that he was capable of such violence. Confusion still was knitted between her brows, her lips turned in a frown. No questions asked, just the way he liked it; there was nothing he could have said even if she wanted him to that would explain the way he was, or why he was so aggressive with a loud group of drunks. If anything he could blame his unreasonable strength on the alcohol, after all he had downed more than a few shots just prior to pinning a two-hundred pound sack of waste against the wall.
The game still buzzed on the flatscreen above, and to avoid any other unpleasant conversations he feigned interest in the otherwise hopeless game. He wouldn’t admit that he felt guilty for harming those pigs, even if they did deserve it- he had let the monster win again tonight, for the second time this week. Progress was unravelling too quickly. The beginning had been easy, the first time he had turned. He had still felt in touch with his normal, human self, with Thèo, even after hunting down animals and slaughtering them with his own teeth. All this time later, Theo wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. Was this it? Was this all that life had to offer him, an eternity of remorse and self pity, of shoving perverts into walls?
Exhausted by this prospect, Theo slouched on his elbows at the bar. The girl had folded some ice cubes into a towel and brought them obediently to him, setting it across the counter and staring as if expecting him to say something. She lingered there and he said nothing. The ice hadn’t been for bruises as she’d presumed, but to chew on, as he found that it soothed the aching in his jaw from this week’s… festivities. A killing spree, really. Being knocked in the face with the back of a hysteric man’s hunting rifle would do that. He popped a cube into his mouth so it bulged in his cheek, his tongue pressing against its cool surface. He had been pretending to watch the game until she would leave him, but fate would not have it be so.
Then, the screen flickered off. She opened her mouth, and out poured a bunch of fucking nonsense. His gaze slowly averted from the television, his dark eyes settling on the girl fidgeting in front of him while he gnawed on his ice. It wasn’t like he was actually invested in the game, but now that she had turned it off, he was irked. Her chuckle was not returned, silence falling between them for a good minute until she addressed the elephant in the room. He didn’t flinch, hoping to break her with his intimidation as it usually went, scare her away so he wouldn’t have to humor her with a facade of friendliness. That might have been the old Theo, always one for a warm conversation, but he wasn’t having a second of it.
“I’m fine,” Theo grunted, breaking eye contact and picking up another ice cube to chew, anything to make him look preoccupied. It was refreshing that she didn’t seem upset with him like most would have been. She had chosen instead to ask if he was okay and a dozen answers had floated through his mind. No, he had wanted to say, I turn into a fucking wolf and eat things, and I can’t leave town what the fuck do you think I’m okay-
“What’s your name, kid?” Theo murmured slowly, nodding his head her way. "You're new." It wasn't a question, because he knew she wasn't the usual worker. Frequenting the bar often enough he knew this place inside and out. He had been an asshat earlier for giving her shit, as a female bartender especially she put up with far more than she needed to. The rational side of him was returning, even if for a brief spell to keep him civilized.
As expected, all she managed to get out of him were a couple of words laced with nothing but pure indignance. Emily didn't even know why she bothered. There was no point in trying to be civil with someone that clearly wasn't capable of doing the same. She usually tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, a habit that's been proven to backfire on her more times than she can count. But then there were moments, such as this one, that reminded Emily that sometimes, there were people out there that just hated the world.
And maybe there was a chance that there was more to him. But right now, Emily wasn't exactly inclined to figure it out.
She decided to collectively ignore him while she finished closing up the bar--though the grating sound of him gnawing on the ice wasn't helping in the slightest. Why couldn't he just leave already? And her frustration only worsened when he ended up asking for her name―as if she wasn't even old enough to have job, let alone be working in a bar. And did he really just call her kid? Seriously?
Emily couldn't help but let out a short laugh under her breath before finally turning to face him, "You know what.." She stepped forward so that she was leaning against the bar and leveling her face with his; the prior stammer in her voice replaced by a sudden firmness, "For some reason, I think you got this idea in your head that it's okay to go out and treat people like you own the place. The whole condescending jerk thing you got going on?"-she gestured at him with a wave of her hand-"you really have that down-packed. It's just that..." Emily's voice trailed for a second as she tried to collect herself. Telling people off had never exactly been her strong suit. Re-thinking her words, she let out a huff of air and continued, "Look. I appreciate you stepping in for me back there, I really do. But how about we just..spare ourselves the obligation of getting to know each other. Sound good?" She met his unwavering gaze with a pointed look of her own right before walking off to the other side of the bar to put up the rest of the chairs―a small but satisfied grin settling across her face.
(view spoiler)
It was a fucked up world he lived in. He never could please anyone, especially not himself, and the one, the one time he tried to be sociable in this hell hole of a town, he got bit for it. Theo had felt a shred of obligation to cut down on his fiery temper for her sake, and what did he get in return? The girl had leaned across the bar counter, hands planted firmly on its surface as she looked him dead in the eye. A bold move; he was shocked by her complete personality overhaul from ten minutes ago. He hadn’t perceived his attitude as anything condescending, but clearly he was mistaken. The bartender dismissively huffed at him and asked- nay, insisted- that they never speak to one another.
Now, normally Theo wouldn’t have had a problem with her request. That variety of irritable words were what he usually armed himself with whenever he put himself in the general public sphere, and it never failed when he paired it with a scowl. Ever since he’d been in Warwick, the thought of socializing and meeting people made his insides curdle. So how come now, as she turned her back on him and collected glasses from further down the counter to set inside a plastic tub, he was intrigued? Humans were a boring species, he’d come to find, but his little bartender was something else. It wasn’t every day that he met someone pint-sized and full of mean words.
Theo ignored his injured pride, unsettled now that he was the one being cast aside. Stubbornly, he said nothing in return, chewing loudly on his ice in an act of defiance. What did he have to prove to her? He had already been both a jackass and a gentleman, and she had expressed her non-desire to associate with him at the bar after he’d asked her name. Perhaps his conversational skills were far more rusty than he’d remembered, and asking for one’s name was no longer an acceptable topic. Theo’s ice melted in its washcloth and pooled in a cold puddle while he watched her bustle about the place, wiping and dusting and mopping it all down at an impressive speed. Most of the time the bartenders he knew moseyed about with the game on the screen, pausing frequently over a mop bucket to squint at the score around closing time. She was different.
It shouldn’t have bothered him that she was giving him a cold shoulder, but while the minutes passed in silence, that’s all he could think about. His ice was liquid now, the bar had formally closed a while ago, but he still sat rooted to his stool with his elbows on the counter. In his mind swirled dozens of comments he could say, anything from his most embittered remarks about how he’d done her a favor only to be pushed away, to the anxious question of what he had done wrong. Yes, he had been a dick. But yes, he had beaten the shit out of one of her customers. Didn’t it all void itself and make up to a second chance?
The girl had begun lifting chairs from the far end of the bar seat-down onto the countertop, one by one progressing his way. Was this a subtle cue to get him to leave? For some reason Theo had a hard time willing himself to stand up and leave the place; it felt wrong to just abandon her here this late at night to clean up. If what he was smelling was right, those fat shits could still be close by, loitering in the parking lot to spring an attack on her the moment she locked up. Decidedly, Theo stood with the scrape of his stool. In a similar but quicker fashion, he followed suit, flipping the stools onto the granite and moving down the line where he met the bartender in the middle.
Before she could say anything he pushed up the long sleeves of his heathered gray work shirt, stacking other chairs the way he’d seen the other bartenders do it for the forty years he’d been here until closing. He ignored her quizzical looks, and when the chairs were taken care of, he bagged the trash and piled it by the door for later. "You want help with that?" Theo finally leaned against the inside of the bar counter, his hip pressing against the cool counter while she pushed restocking boxes of liquor around with her foot. Not willing to take no for an answer as well as piss her off to whatever extent he could, Theo hoisted the cardboard box onto his waist and diligently held it for the girl while she restocked the shelves and fridges with glass beers.
She was an interesting girl, to say the least. Pretty, too. He had seen countless women come and go, messy one night stands with strangers never to amount to anything. Having a future for him was cursed, especially with humans, but something in his gut told him that he would be seeing a whole lot more of this girl if he kept to his usual drinking hours. Even if she had expressed being disinterested in being his friend, his introverted hermit self was inexplicably drawn to her for reasons he couldn't understand.
His irritation radiated off him in waves and Emily was practically basking in it. It's what he deserved. Sure, deep-down, she'd been scared shitless of saying just about anything to criticize his behavior considering what happened to the last few guys that pissed him off. Emily was also more than aware that she had no idea what this guy was capable of. But in spite of the unease she felt around him, it'd be a lie to say he didn't intrigue her at least a little. And the reasoning behind it was beyond her. Quite honestly, she had expected him to leave after what she said--maybe punching a couple of holes in the wall on his way out. Emily couldn't quite put it into words but let's just say that when she looked up and noticed that he was still sitting in the stool, crunching on the ice just to spite her, a part of Emily wasn't as bothered by it as she wanted to be. Maybe it was her curiosity getting the better of her but she couldn't help it. Something about him jarred at her and it left Emily's prior distest towards him waver into something else. As far as what it was, she had absolutely no idea and frankly, she was far too tired to even begin figuring it out.
Shrugging off her cluttered thoughts, she began stacking the surrounding chairs on top of the bar with a bit more speed than usual. She wanted to get out of here but more importantly, Emily wanted him out. At least she thought she did. She still hadn't come to a solid conclusion about that. But thankfully, it looked like she wouldn't have to reach one. Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw him rise from his seat but when he did, to her a surprise, he wasn't heading towards the door at all.
Instead he was...helping her?
It was impossible for Emily to mask the confusion on her face as the guy started stacking the chairs with her, working his way down until he ended up right beside her. And before she could utter a word, he was already walking away, putting the rest of the chairs up and piling the evening's trash against the wall. Emily watched him in silent discontempt.
It didn't make sense. He didn't make sense, she thought. Did she give off some sort of damsel in distress signal or something? Not even the kindest person in the world would stay this late just to help her close up and it's safe to say that he was far from that. So why was he?
The question lingered in her mind as she turned away from him and went behind the bar to restock the fridge. The case of beer she needed was situated underneath the bar top and Emily bent forward to pick it up only to realize she lacked any and all upper body strength. "Dammit." She muttered, standing back up with her hands on her hips and with a sigh, she proceeded to try and kick the case out. And Emily was doing just fine--well, maybe not fine--until, of course, Hero of the Year suddenly appeared beside her and asked if she needed his help. Because apparently that was his thing now. Barely acknowledging him with a glance, Emily continued her unsuccessful attempts to get the box out with her foot until the guy came over and, as if she wasn't embarassed enough, lifted it up like it weighed nothing. Emily stared at the crate in his hand for awhile, looking both shocked and like she wanted to knock those bottles right out his grip. Her eyes finally shifted to his face and it immediately dawned on her just how close they were standing. She was forced to look up at him and the longer she did, the more she felt her glare faltering.
Were his eyes this brown before? She could've sworn they were darker. Emptier. More angry. Oh god, how long had she'd been staring at him?
Tearing her eyes away, Emily cut through the silence with a forced cough and grabbed a few bottles from the box he was holding. She walked past him in a sudden haste and opened the fridge, grateful to be met with cool air that calmed her now reddened face.
"You know if you're trying to make me feel bad for what I said, you might as well just leave already." Emily said, finally speaking to him. She placed the drinks inside the fridge while she tried to focus on how much of a jerk he was and not the color of his eyes.
⠀It wasn't often that the demon-witch found herself here, at the bar. Not anymore, anyways. Since becoming a teacher at Warwick and following a new path, Kikyo Winchester never did things like this. Mostly in fear of her students seeing her (even though they weren't suppose to be at an establishment like this). Today was different though; the anniversary of her mother's death. Kikyo would never forget that horrific day - this being the same day that she would ultimately plunge herself into darkness. The demon-witch would go on wreck havoc across the lands, she would kill relentlessly and steal every innocent soul she could get her hands on. Her name alone would strike fear into many; something she hasn't forgiven herself for even today. Whatever gentle nature she once had from her mother, had been snuffed out and pure evil had taken over.
⠀These days, Kikyo would often have nightmares of that past-self. Deep down, she knew that it still lived deep within her, waiting to be summoned again. The woman vowed she would never allow herself to be like that again, she would rather be dead before she did. Letting out a sigh, the raven-haired woman set her martini glass down on the bar. She currently sat at the bar, in one of the barstools, with her ankles crossed and deep in her own thoughts. She had come here alone, which wasn't much of a surprise. She just wore a pair of black skinny jeans, a dark red off-the-shoulder shirt, and some black wedges on her feet - nothing fancy. As usual, her black hair fell across her shoulders and face in waves.
⠀Kikyo had only been here for about thirty minutes or so, making herself comfortable at the bar. She wasn't exactly sure why she picked here to be at, but it felt like the best choice. For right now, anyways. She had no intention in making friends, or meeting up with anybody. The demoness twirled the toothpick around her glass before picking it up and popping the green olive into her mouth, chewing it quietly. "Another martini, ma'am?" a voice interrupted, causing the woman to advert her red eyes toward the bartender who stood smiling at her. "Yes, please," she responded, giving a weak smile in return. Thirty minutes in, and she was already on her third martini.
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Troy was taking his well-deserved break from.... well, life. After having to perform so many spells for people and himself, while also trying to gather information, and let’s not forget his twin brother that sometimes could get very annoying, Troy really need a drink or two to bring down his stress level. So here he was at the bar, walking up to a stool and asking the bartender for three rounds of shots. He didn’t find himself here much these past for months, at least not alone. Yeah, this would be the place where he found his hookups, but then again so would be the club. He was a “young” man after all.
He gave the bartender a small nod as if to thank him when his drinks were presented, and then reached out to take a hold of one. He brought it up to his lips and tilted his head back, welcoming the burn. As he did so, he caught sight of a familiar face from the corner of his eye. With an empty glass and a smirk on his lips, he turned to the young lady. “Well, isn’t it Kikyo.” He looked over her, finding her the same as he did centuries ago. It was hard to forget a well-known face, especially when you’ve been stuck in Warwick for your whole life.
If he were to be honest, he wasn’t actually honored to meet her again. If anything, he kind of found it as a joke, one that he plans to enjoy. “Is all the rumors true? Did our devil queen join the good side?” He asked a look of disgust in his eyes.
After only waiting a minute or so, the new martini was set in front of her. Kikyo gave a light nod of thanks to the young bartender. She gently wrapped her fingers around the skinny glass, lifting it and bringing it to her red lips, taking a small drink of the alcoholic beverage. The taste was bitter, but was something she was use to - the familiar burn going down her throat. A kind of numbing factor. The demon-witch didn't drink as much as she use to it, being a school teacher and having an everyday job that revolved around kids; you don't drink all the time. Her scandalous days were also over, it seemed.
Hearing a chilling voice from beside her, Kikyo pulled her glass away from her lips and averted her blue gaze toward the source. It took her a split second before she fully recognized, but when she did, she wouldn't exactly say she was delighted. The demoness remained silent for a moment, merely just studying the male before her. It wasn't because she didn't know what to say or was scared to speak - mostly wondering if it was worth it. "Troy," she finally spoke, her voice steady and clear as she spoke to the fellow warlock who sat beside her. She began to wonder why she hadn't seen him earlier - were her senses beginning to fade, as well? Surely not, Kikyo was still as threatening as she was a year ago.
Furrowing her brows toward the male's statement, Kikyo shrugged her shoulders. It was rare for the woman to run into anybody she knew from years ago, it was mainly only other immortals or other demons. Warwick was a pretty small town, and word got around fast, but not a lot of other Lucifer followers ended up here. "Hm, didn't realize I was liked so much. Do they really talk about me that much?" she questioned, a light smirk playing along her devilish lips. "To answer your question; yes and no. More like I've decided to retire, none of us can torture souls and kill for fun forever, ya know. I've just..... settled down, is all," she answered, pondering her words as she went.
"What about you? Still causing trouble, hm?" she asked in return, focusing her soft gaze on the male before her.
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Troy wasn’t even sure if she would remember him, and if she did, would she get him confused with his twin brother, because that really bothered him. But she remembered, which assured him that he didn’t need to worry about not being known around town. After all, there weren’t that much powerful warlocks in Warwick.
Waiting for her to say something, Troy changed his attention to the glasses before him. He picked up his second glass and drank it quickly, enjoying the warm feeling that followed it, before drinking the third and last shot he had. He cleared his throat, all ready feeling the sensation spreading through his chest and to his body. He really enjoyed drinking, and enjoyed the bruning sensation with it. It was sad that it wasn’t as strong as it used be when he first started drinking centuries ago, as sad as that sounds.
Finally turning his full attention to Kikyo, he couldn’t help but laugh at what she said. “Like you? Everyone is actually embarrassed at your sudden “retirement” , sweetheart. Especially the underground demons.” He tells her as he leaned his side onto the counter. “And I don’t blame them. You were kind of almost a legend, y’know, without dying yet.” He tells her. When he was asked about himself, he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You already know. I can’t help it. I’ve kind of switched it into more helping others cause trouble. But it’s all still satisfying.” He gave a half-hearted shrug.
⠀Eying the male before her, she watched carefully as he downed his second shot, shortly followed by the third. Going back to her own drink, she proceeded to take a small sip from her martini, preferring this over just shots of alcohol. Maybe in her younger days she might've choose the shots, but not today. Honestly, she really didn't even drink alcohol all that often in the first place. Her new job required her to be there early in the morning and stay for hours on end, so drinking really was something on the back of her mind. Even during her free time on the weekends, she found herself doing more school work like grading and whatnot.
⠀Listening to his words, Kikyo clenched her jawline, keeping her eyes averted away from the warlock. Deep down, she knew he was right. That didn't change the fact that his words bothered the hell out of her and she had to resist the urge to strike. "Like I said, things get old real quick. I just didn't feel the same anymore," she commented plainly, already wanting to change the subject. "But if any of them wanna say something more, let them know I haven't forgotten how to put them in their places," she growled lowly, a fire inside her igniting for a split second.
⠀Breathing in deeply, Kikyo settled her nerves. It was then she finally lifted her eyes to focus on him once more, immediately picking up the sudden look in his eyes. "You? helping? those are words I never thought I'd hear in the same sentence with you," she told him, a faint smirk playing along her soft lips. Even if it was still something that caused trouble, it was still a slight surprise. It seemed they both had changed in their own ways. "What are you doing in Warwick, anyways?" she then questioned, raising an eyebrow.
⠀For all she could know, Troy could've been in Warwick this entire time but she had no idea. She really hadn't paid attention to things like that.
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Troy chuckled. She may have changed, but she still seemed to get annoyed like she used to. However he could never get the concept of doing good and caring about people. Even if being bad and causing trouble did get old, you don’t just go to that. That was one thing they would never come in terms with together. But he had to admit, she still looked as bad ass as she did years ago.
When she joked about what he said, he rolled his eyes at her and ran a hand through his platinum hair. “Very funny. The only reason I’m doing that now is that it gets me money. You already know art doesn’t do that well.” For Troy and his brother, they really enjoyed painting and causing trouble, so they used both to make a living out of it. Painting for people and companies, while also performing spells and what not for people that wanted trouble in exchange for money. It seemed like a win-win. Plus it helped that they still had money left from passing centuries.
“Is that some kind of joke? You know I can’t leave this hell hole.” Troy said, obviously pissed. He turned to face the counter, resting his crossed arms on it. He knew that he wasn’t as well know like her, but to not even know he was cursed here, well it made him feel like he was nothing, and he hated when people did that to him.
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⠀A light smirk danced across the woman's lips as she watched him roll his eyes, likely not amused with her comments. That was nothing new, though. Kikyo wasn't a fan favorite, especially to other demons or witches/warlocks. Then, she had no problem hurting or torturing creatures of her same kind just as much as humans or other supernatural. Sure, it was well known how much power she held and she might've been a favorite regrading that, but nothing else. Kikyo didn't have many friends, even to this day. She had always worked independently most her life and planned to keep it that way. There was room for playful banter and all that other stuff here and there, but when it came down to it, it was better for her to be alone.
⠀"Sure, you've got a point there," she responded, tapping her nails against the glass of her drink. He wasn't wrong, helping others with stuff they couldn't quite accomplish by themselves came with good payment. It also came with other consequences, of course. Most beings like them didn't seem to care about those, though. Except maybe Kikyo, preferring to cut any ties she might've had immediately. Again, her and Troy were opposites in several aspects, that was obvious. There was very few topics they could probably actually agree on, but Kikyo didn't have the energy nor interest to care.
⠀The demoness gave the male a side-glance at his sharp response, anger flaring in his tone, she quickly noted. This didn't seem to wavier her, though. "Ah, that's right, my bad," she said, another smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her bitter-sweet personality was still there, it seemed. "Allow me to rephrase my question, then. Why are you at the bar on a Wednesday night?"
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Troy stared at bottles of liquor before him that were sitting on the counter behind the bartender, waiting to be used. It was almost like him and his brother. Even thought they’ve been warlocks for some time now, and they were pretty strong and well known, they still craved to be even more popular in the group of wolcoks and witches. Basically, he wanted to be like Kikyo, but he would never admit that, especially to her. She would just show off with that annoying smirk of her, like the one she had on now.
“What, a guy can’t come to a bar to get a drink?” He asked turned his head to glance at her again, his face indifferent and his arms still crossed before him. “I was in the mood for something strong,” and a new place to disappear too, he thought the last part to himself. But really, he didn’t have a real reason to be here. “I could say the same about you. From all the places in the world? Why here?”
