Hackneyed (Open.)

[Gregory Strickland]

This place had too many young people. Not only that, too many young people that were giving him looks that he knew all too well. He just wanted to have a couple of beers, he wasn’t hurting anybody, although the last young man who had asked him how he killed his gay lover, almost received a beating. Greg preferred a verbal joust instead. “Watch the news more carefully kid, in case you didn’t notice, I was acquitted, and if you keep talking about my husband with such disrespect, I’ll tell that nice barista over there that you’re a minor.” He certainly wasn’t one to back down from what he believed.

Greg sighed, taking up his bottle of beer, the cool liquid touching first his lips, and then seeped down his throat. He was withering away at the hands of this small brown bottle. Well not just this one per say, but many that looked quite similar. Puckering his lips together, his dull blue eyes surveyed the patrons of the bar, trying to see if he noticed anyone. He had come here to remain unnoticed. He had called Sean about a week ago; the psychic didn’t even know he was here yet. Hell, he hadn’t even unpacked yet.

The truth was, the last time he had actually seen Sean, he had bailed him out of jail. Then, he didn’t look half as bad as he did now. So, he was avoiding his friend, and reintroducing himself to an old one – Alexander Keith. Greg approved of this old habit, as it was better than trying to find pot in this small town, and cheaper too. Besides, the thought of smoking up alone wasn’t all that appealing. He hated being alone, living alone, every room he stepped into just another room. At least Josh’s old house didn’t hold any memories. That was the only silver lining.

[Dr. Nathan Reed]

((I'm sorry, I'm going to dump Nathan in here since the thread's been open a while and it's calling to me.))

Nathan didn't mind that the place was full of young people. Actually, he quite enjoyed recognising underaged patients, walking up to them and folding his arms and tapping his foot in a most unimpressed manner. The beautiful mixture of shock and fear with just a hint of guilt from some of the more timid ones was amusing, but he wasn't just scaring the kids because it was fun. What kind of doctor would he be if he didn't tell the little ones to go home and sober up? Shepherding a pair who had almost certainly used someone's powers to get alcohol - there was no way anyone would have thought they were old enough otherwise - he tutted and clucked and pointed out that it was lucky it was Nathan who'd caught them and not someone with bad intentions. Someone sort of like the doctor, but not being the doctor. Someone with, dare he even think it, less morality.

Challenged by one as to why he was here, getting drunk when it was so terrible for your health, he smirked. "Because I'm old enough to make the decision to destroy my liver," he said, pointing to the door. "Now run along before I get security to throw you out."

He wasn't sure they really believed his threat, but they left anyway, sulking and moaning under their breath. There was no doubt in his mind that they would simply influence their way into some other club but he wasn't going to chase them around all night. After all, he wasn't really out here to chase the little ones out of the clubs for the good of their health. Although, watching them for twenty minutes or so had allowed him to see just how many were gravitating towards one lone blond at the bar. What was it about blonds?

This particular blond did not seem to welcome the young people and was apparently having a little difficulty. There was a buzzing for a while among the youth after the first one had approached, too, something about scandal and death. When he came to think of it, he did sort of half-recognise some features in the older man's face, or what he could see of it.

Though he didn't often read newspapers or take much of the news seriously, he did recall the headlines plastered all over the front pages, and the subsequent recent apologies embedded deep within the middle pages. Like a decent human being, he probably should have left him alone, but it wasn't like he wanted to talk about the incident. And besides, who came to a crowded bar to be alone? So he approached the blond and took a seat, smiling as warmly as he could, mentally reminding himself not to mention the headlines.

"I could suggest something else to drink, if you wanted some variety," he said, crossing one ankle over the other and leaning with one elbow against the bar. "Or I could just buy you the next one."

[Andrei McQueen]

Paul had been facing the counter, already on his sixth bottle, for about half an hour now. Or is it my ninth? He can't really be sure. He stopped counting when his blind date said he'd forgotten something in his car and never returned. He knew it would happen, and he just let it did; just like how everyone else walked out on him. He thought Pilot Ridge was more accepting of people with his situation. I guess not all of them.

It was obvious Paul wasn't interesting enough, or was too interesting? I guess, telling him I have pixie wings when he asked if I have powers, wasn't such a good idea. He let his glasses fall half way down the bridge of his nose as he rubbed his throbbing forehead. It was hurting, but he wasn't sure if it was because he had too much to drink, or because he remembered what he said. He can't even be sure which of the two was the less stupid act. As long as he drowns them both in alcohol, everything would feel better. Wait... That doesn't make sense. Well, nothing in the world does.

Paul was always the most reasonable one, but he was always like this every time he gets stood up or something like this happens. He knows he'd have to give Kanda a good kick on the shin for setting him up with a jerk, but only after he sobers up. Kicking while drunk would always end up with a miss and his ass on the floor. Especially, if it's with Kanda.

He turned his head to the side, just to see if he knows somebody, or anybody he is simply acquainted with, to help drive him home or anybody's home. It doesn't matter. He could always leave the car and have his brother get it in the morning.

He glanced over this guy with his amazing ocean eyes fixed on his bottle on his table. He looked quite familiar. He can't really be sure if he's someone he'd seen on the paper or if it was someone he personally knows. Working for the local paper introduces him to a lot of faces but none of them really last long. He was about to try to remember if the guy was listed under homicide headlines or lucky lotto winners. He would have stayed away if it was of the former but then he realized, death is inevitable, and so, it doesn't matter. Instead, he stopped trying to remember and continued with his current drunken state.

Do I dare walk up to him? No. After what just happened to him, he doesn't want to push his unlucky streak. Besides, the guy seems to be having troubles of his own.

He heard a new voice over the table of the blond. Paul raised his brows, rolled his eyes and chugged down the remaining content of his bottle before ordering a new one. At least someone's getting some action. He thinks.

[Gregory Strickland]

Greg had fended off a few more teenagers, before he returned to his people watching. He noticed an older gentleman doing almost the same thing he was – threatening the younger kids to get out before an official had to be called out. He understood the want that teenagers had to be in here, he was one of them at one point in his life. But hell, if they wanted to have a few drinks, the least they could do was stay under the radar, things weren’t really fun if you got caught.

The blonde smiled to himself. How many times had he been caught in his life exactly?

A small smile was on his face as Greg took another sip of his beer, the very man he had spotted earlier approaching him. He wasn’t really interested in tag teaming on the youngsters, and while he didn’t want to be bothered, at least he wasn’t being harassed about the past, nor was the face a very young one. Not that it was old either, it was a pleasant surprise.

There was another man a little ways away from him, who, after announcing he had pixie wings to his date, had been ditched as was drinking probably more than he should have. Greg didn’t feel bad for the guy, everyone had their own problems to deal with. Personally, he thought the man did the right thing by being himself right off the hop. Kudos to him even. The blonde caught pixie-wings’ eye and gave him a small, friendly nod. He wasn’t alone in this world, nobody here was.

Greg might have gotten up at that point to go and cheer the other guy up, seeing it as an opportunity to forget about his own problems momentarily, but the first guy had approached him first, and it would be rude now to walk away. And who would turn down a drink?

Looking down at his bottle, and then back to the man, Greg decided that this topic was far better, and more ambiguous, than the one he had been harassed over all night. “Both sound wonderful,” he said, “you can suggest, I can agree, and then you can buy it for me if you so please.” The blonde could still be charming, it was in his nature, despite how his heart was still hurting. It felt like it would always hurt, and never be repaired.

[Dr. Nathan Reed]

Of course he'd noticed the poor young man who, moments earlier, had been left by the uninteresting company he'd come in with. He couldn't fail to notice the look and the nod the blond had given the other, and as he took his place next to the older stranger he wondered if, perhaps, he had managed to snatch the blond's attention from the young and lonely creature at the table across the way.

Well, he was nothing if he wasn't occasionally thoughtful.

"Oh, I please," he assured the blond in what could have been a murmur, giving him a smile and making sure he held eye contact just long enough. Not too long, or he'd look like the creep he was. "Tell you what; I'll order three and we can go over to that table -" He indicated where the boy was seated. "- and keep that one company; what do you say? No sense in any of the only lone wolves in the place being left out, now, is there?"

Attracting the attention of the bartender, he ordered their group three of what he considered to be a safe drink - a simple vodka mix. He would have chosen one of his favourite cocktails but they weren't all to everyone's liking. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time he'd ruined someone else's evening by choosing something that was bad for them. It was just a good thing that he was a doctor. Allergic reaction to coconut... who'd have thought?

((Ick, sorry, this is kind of terrible.))

[Andrei McQueen]

Paul was over at the bar, fixing his gaze on the mirror behind the bartender. He wasn't really fond of eye contacts, let alone with his confidence slightly trampled when his date ditched him. He wouldn't be able to hold any decent conversation with his current predicament; and the amount of alcohol doesn't seem to help either.

He was looking at everyone. Well, not directly. He was looking at everyone's reflection. It was better for him that way. He thinks. That feeling different from the world and seeing the world differently --lets say, through a mirror-- would make him feel that he's canceling out the 'different' and be 'not different' like everyone else. He closes is eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose for the line of thought. Who would like someone who thinks like this. It was one of those things that reinforces his doubts in finding someone.

Paul saw the reflection of the man, who sat with the blond, approach Paul's reflection. He wasn't really sure what was happening, or what was going to happen, or what just happened to lead him to this situation. He wanted to disappear and avoid any mishaps and awkward conversations with anyone because he knows he isn't thinking right. He wanted to leave but his feet was asleep, his knees felt weak and he knew, any attempt to move out of his seat was sure embarrassment.

Paul was still facing the mirror, shifting his gaze to the blond's reflection, who was still unsure of his next action. He caught his eyes. Beautiful. Paul's vision was already obscured, but looking into those eyes felt like looking into the clear sea. He got lost in them. Paul looked at them enough to glance over it's wonderful inhabitants but deep enough to hide it's monsters. He was captivated. He wanted to know more, but he wasn't in the right mind. He blinked out.

It was an amazing experience for him. The differently shaped bottles filled with different colored liquids illuminated by the fixed lights behind them played an array of colors. The blond was standing in the middle of his line of sight and everything else became a blur.

Paul rubbed his palm over his face. It's not good to think of someone this way.

sorry for being late..
-bee-

[Gregory Strickland]

“I agree completely,” Greg said, that charming smile falling all over his face again. “We all already have something in common,” he said, taking the drink the bartender handed him. “This should be fun,” he said, taking a sip of the drink, looking the older brunette in the eye, the vodka slipping down easily. Years of alcohol consumption, and often overconsumption, had given him an immunity to most beverages, not that he didn’t enjoy them, naturally. He took the third drink and rose, making his way to the younger man who had been ditched.

“I’m Greg, by the way, and thank you, for the drink and the company,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. He was terrible at lying, and he really did want the company, anything to take his mind off of the elephant in the room.

Once they arrived at the younger man’s side, Greg smiled politely and sat in the middle of them, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t because he liked the attention. “I’m Greg, you can thank-” The blonde cut himself short as he set down the two drinks, and looked back at the brunette over his shoulder apologetically. “-this handsome devil over here for the drink.”

Nice save Greg, nice save.

The man who had been ditched, seem quite out of it, and the blonde was completely unaware of the trance his blue eyes had put the other in. “You alright over here?” He asked, patting the man’s shoulder as though he had known him for years. Greg only had a couple beers in his system – which could handle much, much more. Nudging the drink closer to the younger man, Greg couldn’t help but flash a smile – he had always managed to convince people to do things that probably wouldn’t help them in the end. He was all about the moment.

Catching the eye of the bartender, Greg was enjoying this unlikely trio, and he waved his hand around the three of them. “Another round,” he said, and once the bartender was busied with the making of the drinks, he made eye contact with the older brunette, “and this time, it’s on me.”

[Dr. Nathan Reed]

The doctor nodded and smirked, managing to hold back some mistimed and quite possibly over-the-top innuendo about having fun. A little early in their encounter for that nonsense, he felt. Give it a few minutes.

"Oh, my apologies," he said upon realising that he hadn't even thought to give the lovely stranger a name to out to his devilishly handsome face. "Although I'm not complaining if that's what you'd rather call me. It's Nathan. Nathan Reed." The younger man was in a complete daze, and it didn't take a telepath to figure out exactly what it was that captivated him so. He smirked and shook his head ever so slightly, so that it wouldn't be too obvious that he was kind of amused by the situation.

"And what do we call you, pretty one?" He addressed his question to the one who'd been ditched but didn't think he was going to get much of a response. Well, he was likely to be ignored by the little one in favour of the good-looking blond but wasn't that just the story of his life? It didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the company. At least until he got bored and drifted away to some other corner of the bar. After all, he'd only gone to them to keep them both company. He'd leave them be if he had to but for now he was quite happy being the third wheel of the world's strangest and most intoxicated tricycle.

Allowing another Cheshire cat grin at the blond, he clasped his hands in front of him. Oh, Greg was a smooth one and Nathan liked very much. "Alright," he murmured, clasping his hands on the table. "I do prefer mine in a glass but I can't say I'd pass up the opportunity." Oh, ouch. Even for you, that was bad, Nathan, he chided himself.

[Andrei McQueen]

Paul shook himself off of his daze and snapped himself back to his seat. He haven't spoken anything since the two gentlemen approached him and staying silent might seem rude. His current tipsy state will most likely slur out his words. Paul clears his throat.

He turns his head and sees the blond beside him and the brunette on the farther seat. Be polite. He smiled. Thank them for the drink. He raised his glass. Don't just hold it. He bottomed it down. The vodka scraped down his throat and he winched his eyes for it. He wasn't used to drinking but he thinks it's better to start now than sooner.

After relieving himself from the alcoholic drink, he introduced himself. "I'm Paul." It had been long since he met new decent looking people. He was surprised that he wasn't awkward when he said his name. Not that not being awkward is a good start; he earned good friends because of those moments. He hoped these two would be the same. "It's nice to meet you, Greg, and Nathan."

When both Nathan and Greg approached him, Paul already speculated the reason why. He knew half the room overheard his conversation with his date and it was obvious they were there to cheer him out. He was thankful. His new acquaintances knew of his reasons being there, more than he knew of theirs being on the same room, and so he asked. "So, what brings two handsome men here?" He already had a hunch of it being the same as to why he was initially there but, since they both approached him, their reasons might be more different than he thought.

Yes, he just met them, and yes, they are still strangers, but being here, and having these new faces enjoying the time with him, he doesn't feel to be as different as he did a few minutes ago.

[Gregory Strickland]

Greg’s smile faltered for only a moment, but his eyes visibly dulled. Without only so much as introducing himself, the older brunette had managed to remind the blonde of the very thing he wanted to forget. “Great to meet you,” he offered, although a small part of him found it ironic that he would have drinks with a man, who shared the same name as his murdered husband. Part of him wanted to tell this guy to get the hell out of the bar, thinking it was some kind of joke the younger kids had put Nathan up to, but surely the man before him was too old for that. And if he wasn’t, Greg would leave all on his own.

He took the next drink and clinked his against the other two. “Paul, Nathan,” he looked between them, “nice to meet you.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows before drinking, eager to get the substance into his system. He sighed, passing the bottle back and forth between his hands, smirking at Nathan’s reply. “It’s a free drink, I figured you wouldn’t say no,” he said, a flirtacious wink being sent to the older man. What was he doing? It was the alcohol, and perhaps the fact he felt inclined to flirt with someone named Nathan. This was very strange.

He put his arm around the younger guy, giving him a squeeze. “We’re here because we can be, and there’s plenty of things to forget that alcohol can assist with,” he chuckled, setting down his empty bottle and sighing. “I’m here to make a new face for myself,” he looked to Nathan, “but I can only speak for me.” Hmm, he was still rather eloquent for his fourth drink. A few more and he might turn either into a sobbing baby, or a riot. Either way he wouldn’t remember.

He was still wearing his wedding band, something he wasn't planning on taking off any time soon. He wasn't ready for anything romantic, and probably wouldn't be for some time.