ℬooker ̶Deωitt ♠ (
alternate123) wrote2014-10-13 02:48 am
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Entry tags:
SPIRITS ➨ d r i n k o l o g y
gin, maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon juice |
Feel free to meet him at the bar; comment with subject: CHARACTER | RP GAME/NONE GAME RELATED | OPEN/CLOSED
Last update: October 13, 2014
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"Any meds he needs, I can get." Which was one of the perks of working at a pharmaceutical company. Adam had never abused that power before, but he would for Isaac. He'd worked there long enough to know how to make drugs go missing with no one noticing, and no one would ever suspect the chief of security. Even if they did, it was worth it. Isaac was worth it.
He looked over at Booker and reached over to place his hand on the man's shoulder. "You up for this? No harm if you want to keep your nose clean on this one, and no hard feelings."
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He wasn't going to be an asshole but he was thinking that a measly licences for nursing wasn't anything to cry about. But Sean wasn't rough like the rest of them, Sean was a clean-cut kid, as Adam described, just too good and that's the only reason one might have to be cautious of him. Too good. Shit if he's known anyone like that for a long time. Probably not since he was a kid, a young kid. Because teenagers weren't worth a medal anymore. Pissy, emotional, entitled bastards.
"How old is Sean?" He found himself asking before he shook his head realizing his thoughts carried out through is lips. "Never mind.. he's old enough.. and Jax would be a good man to keep him in line."
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Isaac was something else, he was just a fucking adorable big teddy bear. With a very nice smile too. Adam let his mind wander a moment on that smile before he picked up a chicken wing and started sliding the bones out from the juicy meat. "Security's light on Mondays, I thought we'd go then."
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It was a few hours later that Booker was beginning to show signs of well-rounded drunkenness. "Her." He said more with breath than voice. "Family is going to move out of New York.. husband and remaining son.." He was explaining a case he had not too long ago in which he was hired to look into a hit and run case. He found the man, watched the family bring him to justice and then heard the family's resolve: "Run'n away, I reckon.. n'from the pain." His head was much lower on the bar, slightly swaying from left to right and his hands occupied with one gripped to the bar and the other to his drink. As if both would keep him upright.
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"Pain goes with ya, wherever... you go." This was Adam's deep thought on the subject. He was turned around so that his back was facing the bar, and his elbows were resting up on it behind him, and his head leaned back. He stared up at the ceiling lights, enjoying how they danced before his vision. "No matter. Always there."
Adam blinked a few times behind his lenses and lowered his chin to stare out across the bar. They were the only ones left, which wasn't unusual. He nudged his friend in the side with one elbow. "Hey, you call the cab? I's ain't called it."
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He pitied them, the family trying to build a life around their void as if their son would someday be totally forgotten. He couldn't, or wouldn't, see it any other way; they were leaving to forget him.
"Huh?" Booker blinked over to Adam then quickly to the bartender. "Right..." He slid off his chair, steady but ungracefully all the same. He went to the phone booth and sat himself down before he picked up the receiver. For a while he listened to the dial tone, finding an annoying comfort in it's hum but soon it beat with distress and he had to hangup the receiver and pick it back up to reset the tone, this time he didn't hesitate to call the operator for a cab. The number he couldn't recall, no matter how familiar.
When that was finished he leaned on the wall, inside the booth, and closed his eyes to the sound of the receiver hanging up again. His hand then dropped to his lap and he blinked his eyes closed. Anna..
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He finished off the last gulp of a whiskey he had ordered earlier and he pushed himself up to stand. Adam moved in a wavering line toward the door, not to leave but to retrieve his trench coat. With a momentary struggle getting his arms into the sleeves, he snapped the high collar up into place and moved over to the booth and began pulling Booker out with a supportive arm under the other man's arms, around his friend's back.
"We don't haves to go home yet if don' wanna." Adam helped Booker toward the door, hoping some fresh air would liven them both up some. That's when Adam got a, so he thought, brilliant idea. "Elizabeth'd still be workin." She was a waitress at one of those posh establishments uptown, some rich man named Loki owned it. It was a gentleman's club, where the waitresses wore the pleasure of Loki's whims and always looked amazing for it. Booker and Adam had gone there on a case late last year and this one waitress had taken an interest in Booker. Booker didn't seem to think so, but Adam saw the way she looked at him.
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Elizabeth.
A sweet girl in a lion's den--if he were just talking about men it was more than they were worth, a lion. But the gentlemen's club was still accommodating for female patrons and he wouldn't necessarily categorize the fairer sex with men. Sure they had their own ways of viciousness but men were capable of such depths for the fairer sex.
"M'drunk.." Maybe too drunk.
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Once in the cab, Adam relaxed with his head leaned back and eyes closed. The cabbie asked where to and the name came easily to his memory. "Club of Tricks." He'd worked there a few years back, as part of working for Loki in general. Adam had been head of security for Loki and a few of his properties, including the club. Elizabeth hadn't worked there then, but Adam came and went off and on over the years and that one time when he'd first met her, Booker had been there too. The chemistry between the two had been thick almost from the start.
He smiled to himself as they lulled and rocked with the movement of the vehicle. Maybe tonight the two would finally admit they liked each other and do something about it. "Christ."