#𖤐⋆.˚ judith buxton : exchanges.

[chillpills]

“ you got me there, ” a hesitant pause as teeth grazed her tongue, stained a purplish hue from a handful of skittles. while she might’ve appeared collected, inside her head an imaginary rope was being pulled to-and-fro in contemplation. should she say it ? no. yes. no. yes. a back and forth for what seemed like eternity despite only seconds being lost to silence. “ rommanibal lecter. ” instant regret at the quick-witted wordplay might’ve been expected from others, but jude embraced it with a chuff of a laugh. short-lived given the immediate shift in tides. she was skirting somewhat uncharted territories now, an innocent attempt to peel back another layer to the onion of a man. complex, stoic, a touch stand-offish. truthfully, he reminded jude of shrek — which, essentially, made her donkey. it wasn't a wrong assessment either. she could be annoying, she could be a bit much; but she liked to think it was just persistence. if she hadn't attended that initial meeting and sat beside him, she probably never would've been sitting across from him now. granted it wasn't an easy triumph. would've hit him with a 'it's good to talk about these things', but she'd rather not exhaust a statement spat like a broken record during meetings. instead, she simply sat back and listened. 'have ... had' — his slip-up didn't go unnoticed, but all jude could do was offer a soft smile. “ you. ” she finally chimed in, finishing the statement roman left to linger, with a playful roll of her eyes. “ yeah, yeah. i get it you were a catch back in the day. ” obviously she knew who he meant, but she wasn't going to force it out of him and she definitely wasn't about to have a heart-to-heart while somebody told me by the killers softly played in the background. now if angel by sarah mclachlan was queued up then it'd be an entirely different story. “ so, d'you have a favorite song ? of your own, i mean. or in general too, m'always eager to scrutinize. ” she teased.

When Jude first wandered into the support group, Roman had — like with everyone else — kept his distance. He listened to people’s stories, he shared what he felt comfortable with, then he was out the door by the time the group-leader said ‘see you next week’. However, it was like the younger woman just knew that Roman wasn’t keen on group conversation, and slunk around him like a cat who's next target was someone with severe animal dander allergies. And at some point, he must have gotten soft, soon not telling her to fuck off immediately, reluctantly accepting gas-station junk food and thus her into his life. Roman rolled his eyes, catching the Snickers bar with just a slight fumble — the right hand laid out as dormant as ever, the left hand not used to being used actively — and after holding his glower toward her for a moment, began to unwrap it purposefully, not ripping it into shreds. “Isn’t the whole point of that character is that he’s an American psychopath? Surely a better comparison to me is Hannibal Lecter or Sweeney Todd?” Whilst he didn’t appreciate her dramatic flair for cleaning up her rubbish, at least she did it so he bit his tongue, though he let out a groan as Jude’s questioning led back to the band. “You know I don’t enjoy talking about that stuff.” A beat. “We have…had one song, ‘idyllicynism’ like a composition of idyllicism and cynic? That a few people moshed too, if we ever bothered playing it, but supposed most people were just lusting after —,” He waved his hand, unable to say Harrison’s name.

[chillpills]

“ see ya, suckers ! ” the hollered parting echoed as jude sprinted away. one would’ve thought she was outrunning law enforcement at the lightning speed she was going; but no, just a herd of young children once huddled around a game of cards. was it cruel of her to hustle some rugrats ? sure, but she’d argue it was deserved considering those very same rugrats were constantly trying to talk their way out of warmups during practice. she had no use for their ‘bets’ wagered, would only return them come the next game; but she'd be lying if she didn't find amusement watching them freak out.  wind whipped through disheveled locks as she glanced over her shoulder — watching until they became just a blur in the distance. then it hit her, literally, body-to-body collision sending her stumbling a few paces back. in the time in took for jude to come to it, the other was already on their feet. “ i – shit, ” a step forward and then the snap, eyes dropped only to discover an lone item crushed under jude's heavy foot. “ fuck. ” she took a knee to gather the broken pieces. beyond salvageable. “ i'm so sorry. i can replace it. ”

Open Starter: @bluestarters

There was something about the woods that still called to her even to this day. Juno couldn’t pick point what it was. Maybe the helplessness of it all. The idea that going into the trees could end up in never coming out. Just like her. Just like her. Just like her. Just like her. She couldn’t stop building a life around the woman in the woods. All her books depicting thoughts and ideas of what could have happened. What her life could have been like. Did her friends and family missed her? Did she even have any? Why was she involved in? Juno snapped out of her trance as she collided with another being and her belongs fell to the ground. Quickly she ducked down to retrieve them, barely forming out an ‘excuse me’ taking blame for the joint mishap - she often was in places she didn't belong. Why shouldn't the sidewalk be the same? In her distracted estate Juno couldn’t tell whether the words came out or if she spoke them in her head but she straightened up once her items had been gathered. "You're okay."

[chillpills]

“ taurus rhymes with forest. ” kind of. regardless, jude bypassed a greeting altogether to accept the challenge with ease, her and her spaniel coming to a rather abrupt halt before the oh-so admirable leonard katz. had it been anyone else, she would've been reluctant, would've tried to claw her way out of conversation like a caged animal, but no not this time. the topic was right up her alley too, something that kept the mind engaged and thinking. she liked that. “ forest like an ideal home for bugs. bugs like the beetle. the beetle like the beatles with an ea- not a double e. the beatles have a hit, hey jude. hey jude is the prominent part of the chorus. ” she could’ve stopped there, deemed the sound the iconic song, but it seemed a bit too ... egotistical. besides, she had already reached a conclusion, she just had to get there, follow his lead and come full circle. even if she might not've been doing it right, even if all she had to do was make a sound to begin with. “ chorus, another word that rhymes with taurus. taurus like the bull. bulls have horns so i think it'd be a honk. ” teeth caught her bottom lip, space between her brows growing smaller as they shifted in contemplation. “ not like a honk-choo honk-choo of a middle-aged man snoozing in front of a fraiser rerun and definitely not an obnoxious one you’d hear from a lifted truck driven around by some dickhead who’s overcompensating either. i’d say it’s more of a goose-like honk. cartoonish. maybe even what you’d hear if you squeezed a clown’s nose. kind of unexpected from a sign represented by a symbol notoriously known for being tough and aggressive, y'know ? ” so caught up in her own train of thought, it only dawned on her that her little sidekick wobbled her way onto the golf cart and parked herself right by the man's feet when jude glanced down at her own. “ sorry about lady, ” slight tug on the leash yet she didn't budge. “ she's been trying to cut our walks short lately and i think she's trying to tell me something, ” a prolonged beat before, “ what about her, though ? she’s an aries. what d'you think that sounds like ? ”

open to all, set on a random street wherever

Leonard knew just about everyone in town, an impressive feat. Almost everyone that was, except for the people who were so new that they barely unpacked. Or they were exceptionally unsocial. He was engaging in one of his favorite activities in the world: politely accosting people on the street. Lounging in his decked out golf cart, Leonard gestured the person passing over to them. "Come be part of this new tik tok trend I've started." Despite having over a million followers on his sporadically used account, Leonard still referenced the app as two words. "You have to make the sound best associated with your zodiac sign. You see, I'm a Leo. Leo like lion. Lion like cat. Cat like Katz. Katz like Leonard. Leonard like Leo, my zodiac sign. The sound, you may ask? Slam poetry."

[chillpills]

“ pretty sure if i robbed a bank i wouldn’t go around flaunting the wealth, s’like if i were to win the lottery. i wouldn’t outright say it, but there would be signs. ” she wasn’t exactly sure what the signs would be if that were the case — she never really sat down and thought about it. probably start with something silly to chase that initial high, like a blimp just because. maybe even an entire hotel mini bar because one would have to be in possession an amex black to afford a water bottle out of those things. don’t even get her started on the nuts, she still remembered the field trip in fourth grade where she ‘accidentally’ charged $12 to the school for a little tin. “ nah i uh — ” she hoisted herself up onto the vacant stool beside him despite the selection of open ones she had the pick of the litter of. “ rightfully just took a portion of those blue-haireds social security collections over there. ” subtle nod towards the corner, little huddle of men still shuffling cards while she placed the one in her hand on the bar top. “ you ever play ? ” glasses eventually hit the wood with a clank, gentle nudge sliding his over. “ m'jude, by the way. you new ... or somethin' ? ” corner of her lip curled into a grin as she tossed his initial wording back at him.

The bubble of irritation swelling in his chest deflated at that, swallowed by the air of obvious mischief which radiated from the newcomer. Mild discomfort took its place as she slid in beside him. Did no one get the concept of personal space anymore? If it hadn't been for her order he might've grumbled about that, but who was he to turn down a free drink? After all, he thought to himself, she clearly has enough cash, enough that he didn't even feel bad about his initial snappishness... or, at the very least he could ignore the twinge of guilt that tugged at him as curiosity took over. "You just rob a bank or somethin'?" He asked gruffly, brows furrowed as he took in the stack of notes in her hand.

➥ @chillpills

[chillpills]

“ am i allowed to ? huh — let me consult with the owner first. ” soon enough, she was stepping out from behind the counter and making way for the sunglass carousel. why ? for the reflective rectangle jutting out from the top, sizable enough to study her own expression, caught a glimpse of him too. “ hey, so, i know you’re extremely busy, but would it be okay if i threw this guy some freebies ? thinks he’s gettin’ set up and he claims he's some lawyer so i don’t want to risk it. ” going this far for a bit and potentially making a fool out of herself in the process ? she really was bored out of her goddamn mind ... or was she lonely ? although she’d never outright admit it ( often taking pride in finding comfort in her own company ) there were moments where she craved conversation. something that went beyond the simple hello, goodbye. something that didn’t make her feel like an npc on someone’s side quest. it was unfortunate that micah had to be on the receiving end. once the curtains closed on her act, she turned back around. “ doubt any customers are gonna start swinging on me if there's one less watermelon chupa-chups to choose from anyway. paid for or not. can't say the same for strawberry. the better flavor. ” a beat. “ bags are to your right if you need one. ” a lazy point was thrown at the stack of plastic patterned with crimson thank you’s; and while she could’ve returned to her post, jude turned down an aisle instead. “ so you're really a lawyer ? ” there was a tinge of disbelief in her question. one tossed over her shoulder as she pried a small circular tin from a shelf, illustrated cat printed on the label. and then, revelation struck, albeit delayed. had this been a cartoon, a giant exclamation point would've started flashing above her head. “ weissberg. weissberg law firm. shit. makes sense. sorry. i honestly thought you were joking. i mean, you don't — ” she trailed off. it wasn't because she caught herself making judgements she silently vowed not to; but due to an awareness once lacked now slapping her directly across the face. she realized it'd been the most she'd said that entire evening. she also realized that he probably wanted no part in this conversation she was trying to keep alive. no, no, she knew he didn't. after all, he'd spelled it out for her moments prior: 'i'm kinda in a hurry, hope you understand'. and for a moment, jude felt like she was back in the shoes of that same little girl that chewed her brothers' friends' ears off — a little girl seeking a friend. a look that could've been rendered as embarrassment skillfully disguised itself as one of frustration for the task at hand; pad of her thumb continuing to pluck the tin's tab with little luck. “ jesus christ. ” a deflated breath. “ i know your suitor's waiting or whatever, but d'you mind just opening this first ? ”

micah blinks at the girl, takes a quick moment to let the statement pass because he wasn't trying to rob her! but he doesn't argue, doesn't even flinch when she makes yet another disconcerting pop inside her mouth. his silence acquiesces to her point.

he does display his exasperation for the subject of his purchases (why can't she just ring up hit shit like a normal person?)— sighing, shoulders visibly rising and falling, at the adverse reaction he receives where he thought he'd thrown her a bone about his... activities just to shut her up so he can go on his merry way. instead, she probes further into his freak, and instead of telling her that none of these items have anything to do with each other (or with him, for that matter), he his credit card remains unswiped, patience worn thin. he doesn't tell her yet that none of the things he'd tossed onto the counter have anything to do with each other.

"that's on a need-to-know basis." he says about the pen; head tilted slightly as his weight shifts to one foot. he taps his index finger on the blunt edge of the counter impatiently, wondering when this nightmare of a conversation will end. but then she offers to give away all this stuff away for free, and where micah could've taken it and ran, the gesture does capture his attention enough to ask, "are you even allowed to do that?" he looks up, makes eye contact with the omnipresent cyclops god sticking out of the wall. "you're not tryin' to frame me, are you?" he narrows his eyes at her. was it boredom? a rebellious act against her boss? a random act of kindness anticipating some karmic event? what was her angle here? "'cause i'm a lawyer," he adds, like the statement should speak for itself. it also happens to be the single stupidest thing he's said since stepping foot on illinois soil two days ago. a record-breaking feat, really.

[chillpills]

she’d been sprawled out on a bench. well, half of the bench, the other side occupied by all six foot something of her company. a weathered baseball, stitching frayed from years of use, mindlessly alternated from one hand to the other as jude sat in contemplation. “ whatever you do, don’t get something in a foreign language unless you actually know what it means. i remember reading ariana grande got japanese script that turned out translating to barbecue grill. ” in yet another gossip magazine during one of her late night shifts. for someone who swore up and down that they were trash, she did seem to read quite a few of them. “ and don’t get someone’s name. ” usually led to the downfall of a relationship, but she probably didn’t have to explain that one. “ would be pretty sick if you got one of those american traditional hearts with mom in the middle. ” was she joking ? hard to say. “ y’could get an ear piercing too. put one of those dangly earrings in and invest in some leather chaps. a full biker gang fantasy. ” and there it was, the joke, a small laugh catching the tail end of the statement. “ no, but honestly, it depends. i mean … what d’you like ? ”

Starter for: @chillpills

Location: Park

August was glad that Judith was willing to hang out with him. He didn't know many people here and he knew that she might be the person willing to offer some advice to him. "I'm looking to get a piercing and a tattoo so I wasn't sure if you'd be willing to help me come up with some ideas or if that's not in your expertise then I understand and then maybe you can still help me come up with somethiong." He suggested to the other.

[chillpills]

brainteaser discarded like yesterday’s news ( technically, it was ), pen thrown onto the counter with a careless rattle once realization set in. it couldn’t have been, could it ? a narrowed gaze settled on the customer, just long enough to put any doubts jude had to rest; but she knew it was him. features kissed with age, though he still had that boyish youth so often mean-mugged by a competitive little girl staring him down from across a diamond. when her brothers let her get a couple of hits in, that is. “ thanks, junior. ” nickname, she so vividly remembered, rolled off her tongue in casual greeting. felt a bit weird to say, like it did when she first used it as a kid — was only following suit really, parroting the boys in an attempt to fit in at the time. she eventually stepped out from behind the counter, scuff of soles on freshly mopped linoleum an afterthought as she made a leisured stroll down the aisle. one adjacent to the wall of refrigerated displays cases where he stood. “ i'd go with the ramen, personally. unless you're into crisped cardboard with a dusting of cheese. ” a head tilt, corner of her lip curving into a grin — as if she were waiting for realization to strike him too. then again, maybe it wouldn't.

THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING strange about gas stations, liam decided. mostly it felt like it was a place frozen in time, somewhere you shouldn't stay for too long. to liam it was a means to an end, just a small break in his journey. today it was because he couldn't be bothered going to buy groceries at an actual grocery store, tired of all the pitying looks given to him while he was just trying to buy bananas. so, gulp 'n' go seems as good a place as any, even though he felt seventeen again, trying to trick old rodney into selling him cigarettes. he wasn't there though, instead replaced by a girl sitting stiffly behind the counter. as liam was contemplating between frozen pizza and cup ramen for either lunch or dinner ( both ) she spoke up suddenly, making him jump. "murder," he replied, looking around to make sure she was in fact talking to him. "the answer, i mean. it's .. it's a murder."

[chillpills]

      “ ups and downs of high school basketball — wait, ” the space between her brows grew smaller as she shook her head. “ i thought that was the line the ginger spewed out in that twin peaks knockoff with the girl who literally played shelly ? ” riverdale. to be fair, she hadn’t seen that either, and judging by the absurdity of clips that somehow infiltrated her twitter feed, she had no desire to. seriously, how did it go from a show about a missing kid to musical numbers ?  “ um, actually, ” all she needed to do was hold up an index finger and push the imaginary bridge of non-existent glasses up to really amp up the rebuttal. “ i'm not uneducated, i just chose the superior show. the cohens and the coopers ran circles around the scotts. ” she pried her annihilated straw from her polished drink to sink into the fresh one, one sip and the thing was halfway gone already. “ was wholeheartedly convinced i'd find a seth cohen in high school, closest i ever got was my sophomore year lab partner. pretty sure i scared him off when he saw me hulk out in gym class once — and y'know i never got the whole anti-marissa train. i just think she was misunderstood. ” a shrug came before the oh-so dramatic scoff. “ do you have new york times app money ? shit's like ... ten dollars a month. i just snag a paper from the gas station, an owner perk. ” pen finally jotted the answer down before she slid the paper out of sight. “ thank you for treating me to lunch, by the way. god, whatever will i do to repay you ? ” sarcastic lilt as she cracked a smile.

"You're kidding, right?" Lainey asked, lowering herself into the chair opposite her cousin. She plopped the number tent in the middle of the table and slid a full glass of water over to Jude. "One Tree Hill? Lucas Scott?" she prompted, waiting to see if a lightbulb went off in Jude's head. "You fucking bitch, don't make me feel old about this!" Lainey said, laughing. "He wrote An Unkindness of Ravens about the ups and downs of high school basketball, or whatever the fuck the quote is," Lainey waved her hand. "Point is... it's a murder of crows. And you are woefully uneducated on early 2000s TV, so... get on that." Lainey propped a leg up in her chair, taking a sip of her water and peering over at Jude's still-unfinished crosswords. "There a reason you don't just use the New York Times games app like everyone else?"

[chillpills]

      “ because i’m protecting my peace. ” to the best of her ability, at least. why exert her energy on something she wasn’t worried about ? and no, she wasn’t sick despite the fact that it'd been out of character for her. she should’ve been just as rowdy, if not more than the other patrons glued to the television; but, she knew the game would end in new york's favor. had a gut feeling. granted that gut feeling came with a study of patterns. regardless, she’d been so sure she even made at a bet with a man slumped in the corner — if the yankees lost, she’d have no choice but to have a couple of their pints tacked onto her non-existent tab. one she should’ve opened given the amount of cherry cokes tossed back. “ look at me, leon. lock in. ��� index and middle fingers v-ed to point at her eyes then his. “ dodgers took two wins yesterday and friday, yeah ? 2-to-1, 11-to-3. this is their last game against the yankees and they’re gonna get sloppy because they already think they have it in the bag. they’re just bein’ cocky now. ” a beat. “ i'm not a psychic but if glasnow’s pitchin’ and grisham’s up to bat next, he’s gonna send that ball flying which’ll bring verdugo, judge, and him home. three runs for new york. ” she took the pause from her spiel as an opportunity to jot the answer he so swiftly provided down. “ and if they do win, you might need to keep an eye on blondie over there in the corner. think he might gang of crows me if that's the case. ” clicker of the pen tapped at the bowl of discarded peanut shells, indicator of a much needed refill; but at what point would it be considered an abuse of a complimentary gesture ? it'd been maybe her fourth, fifth serving. “ please, sir, some more ? ” spoken in a twangy english accent like that of the very person she was mimicking, oliver twist. “ and maybe another cherry coke while you're at it; but, ” always a but with her, “ y'think you could be a little more generous with the maraschinos this time ? i mean, c'mon are you trying to ration them in case an apocalypse strikes and there's nothin' left ? ” she teased.

"murder," leon distractedly replied to jude, eyes transfixed on the match, at oshea's. the yankees were currently losing against the dodgers, and leon was ready to throw a chair at the television. "come on you fucks!" his fist hit the bar, annoyance evident in his features. it seemed like his sentiment was shared with a few regulars who loudly groaned at the results, watching their favorites fail to hit the ball satisfactorily once again.

it was a slow sunday afternoon, with not many patrons besides the regulars and a few others who seemed to like sports. it was pretty sunny outside, so having any kind of revenue today was really a blessing for leon.

sighing, leon turned his attention to the young woman sitting at the bar across from him during commercials. "why are you doing crosswords? the dodgers are winning."

[chillpills]

“ a murder. ” she parroted, brows furrowing in thought. “ huh — you know, i’m not really surprised. just feels right, y’know ? makes sense. ” crows being a symbol of death, death and murder went hand-in-hand. it was kind of clever, in a way. “ if i’m gonna be honest, i do too. the majority of the time i end up pissed off. i don’t know how people find these therapeutic. ” placing the unfinished puzzle beside her, she directed her attention on her newfound company. “ i feel like whoever makes them is some pompous, ” asshole. she wanted to say, but she was quick to catch herself before she did. even though she was notorious for having the mouth of a sailor, she’d never let it slip in front of a child. at least, she tried not to let it. there were times here and there, during games especially, where the occasional hell would echo, but that was that. alright, maybe a shit too. “ person with a superiority complex that takes pleasure in watching people fail. same with that new york times connections game. you ever play it ? ” the babbling of the little girl beside her eventually caught jude's attention and she couldn’t help but smile. “ she’s cute. what’s her name ? ”

Imogen found herself and her daughter at one of the small parks, sitting on a blanket and having a picnic. Not that her daughter was actually eating anything but just picking at the food and playing with the few toys that they had brought. They had just gotten through with playing on the playground and your girl was tired - more so with knowing she had been in town for a month and couldn’t find the courage to face her past. She had been in her own head when she heard babbling and then another voice close by. Her head snapped up at the question as she thought for a minute before smiling. “They’re called a murder.” She only knew this from a book that she had read before. “I don’t know exactly why they’re called a murder but they are,” she said as she looked at the paper in the other persons hands. “I hate crosswords. I feel extremely dumb when I can’t complete them, you know?”

[chillpills]

the exclaimed response from the woman did earn the duo a few looks of bewilderment, an older gentleman in particular resembling carl from up ( and likely just as grumpy ) shot a glare in their direction to which jude responded with a shake of the flimsy newspaper. wave of acknowledgement on his behalf nipped any concern in the bud, even shut down further stares from a few other patrons. such nosy people. funny how they turned at murder but not when jude was calling into a void. an immediate smile caught the corner of her lip though, attention drawn to focus right back on the willing participant. “ murder ! thank you ! ” she penned it in without an inkling of doubt simply because of how confident she sounded. “ i've been goin' at this for so long i think my toast was starting to grow mold. ” a jest as she dropped her gaze, eyes scanning the page as if she were searching for the meaning of the word unfamiliar to her. “ i'm going to be honest with you, not sure what ornithology means. ” she wasn't necessarily ashamed to admit it either, “ but here — ” she slid the doodle-filled crossword across the counter. “ you tell me. ” two taps as she sat back. “ have one word left, if you're interested in tryin' to solve it. unless, i'm interrupting your flow. ” a nod at the laptop sat in front of her.

If there was one place Nilay could go to and get some work done for a few hours, aside from one of her offices or the library, it had to be Rise 'N' Dine. Between the calm environment, the options of breakfast foods, and some rather decent hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon dusted on top, it was one of her favourite places to be at while doing work concerning her content creating. Editing a video or photos on her laptop seemed different, better, while worked on at the breakfast joint. And that's what she was doing on: editing some photos for her Instagram and figuring out what to do for the caption post. The historian was humming along to the music playing over the speakers, taking a few bites of her hashbrowns, before looking up. "Hmm?" She chew slowly, registering Jude's question for a moment and eyeing the crossword, before swallowing. Sitting up as she excitedly remembered the word in English. "Oh, murder!" Okay, maybe she shouldn't have sounded so excited. Her cheeks blushed as she cleared her throat and said, "It's, uh, a murder of crows. Is your crossword ornithology related?"

📜@chillpills

[chillpills]

it was as if she’d just won the lottery and, in a way, jude sort of did. call it luck, perhaps fate, her opponents — regulars that gathered ‘round to try their hand — would call it cheating. it even got to the point where there'd be an attentive eye that remained unwavering as she barreled through games of kitty whisk, poker, and go-fucking-fish. arguably one of the easiest in history and yet people who talked a big game couldn’t even catch a win. time after time, however, they wound up short of any proof that she’d been rigging the system. she was just that good. after a few hours of annihilation, she found it best to tap out … let a new victor be crowned, though she hadn’t walked away empty-handed. an ace of hearts mindlessly weaved through her fingertips as she thumbed through the fat stack of cash in her other, so thrilled at her earnings she hadn’t realized her trek to the bar was closer than expected. so close, in fact, her body met the back of … huh, who was he ? “ shit, sorry about that. ” finding her place beside the enigma, she managed to wave the bartender down in record time. “ can i get a jack and coke and uh — ” the playing card shielded her lips from the other, body leaning in, “ another of whatever it is huff-and-puff is downin' ? ” spoken in jest, she didn't even try to keep her voice low despite the efforts gone into being 'discreet'.

➥ location: o'shea's ➥ status: open starter (capping at 5)

It was quiet at the pub, that's why Jack liked it. Unfortunately, 'quiet' didn't necessarily translate to 'peaceful'. He'd shown up tonight with the simple aim of getting out of the house, planning to tuck himself away in a corner and nurse a couple of drinks somewhere that wasn't his couch, effectively escaping the feeling of the walls closing in on him at home. It'd been a long week and he didn't particularly feeling like dealing with other people—not that he usually felt like it anyway—but in typical fashion that lack of desire seemed to tempt fate. As he leaned against the bar ready to order another drink he felt somebody jostle him from behind.

"Hey, you mind?" he huffed, turning to look at them. "Personal space here."

[chillpills]

“ even after this bountiful lunch i’ve gone out of my way to provide ? ” she quipped. if an assortment of snacks snagged from the station was considered such, jude had brought forth a feast fit for a royal. granted she was the one mowing down on the majority — bag of chips were torn open before she even managed to situate herself. it would be a miracle if a single crumb was left to share. however, a few mismatched candies were fanned out along the countertop for the taking, because if there was another thing her mother instilled in her ? always deliver options when faced with uncertainty. that and never show up someplace empty handed — even if, in this case, said invitation was nonexistent and her presence was probably, most likely, a hindrance. “ relax, patrick bateman. ” free hand plucked a snickers bar from the lineup, but rather than keep it for herself, a flick of her wrist tossed it in his direction instead. “ you're not you when you're hungry. ” slogan for the infamous treat recited through a shit-eating grin as she quickly jotted the answer down. with one dramatic swoop, she bunched up some wrappers and pulled herself up onto her feet. as if to make a point, she hovered over the bin and discarded them one by one. wasn't long before she was back in position, pen in hand. “ murder of crows would be a pretty sick band name. could picture them selling out underground venues with fans heavy into moshing. you ever get any moshers at your gigs or was your fanbase more ... beatlemania-esque ? ” translation: sobbing girls who would likely pass out if the roman daniels even glanced in their direction.

One of Roman's earliest memories from his childhood was when Ophelia, about seven years old, noticed an injured bird in the back garden of their house, and brought it in to nurse back to health. It had been a small thing, just a little sparrow or so with a bent wing. Their housekeeper had warned them that it was unsanitary, and if you brought in one stray, you'd only bring in more.

He couldn't really remember what happened to the sparrow, or if there were any repercussions to the incident. But he did remember the housekeepers warning, and tried his best to heed it.

So how he had somehow adopted the company of someoneone who was essentially an overgrown teenager, hanging out in his music store during his lunch break of their own free will was an ultimate mystery.

"Murder." He answered, tone clipped, going through his mail for the day. "Like what I'll commit if you don't pick your bloody litter up when you're done."

[chillpills]

“ coming into my place of business, ” it still felt weird to say even after seven years of ‘ownership’, “ carrying out a botched grab-and-go and then proceeding to tell me what i shouldn’t do ? ” another snap in protest. she didn’t let up, not yet, but she wasn't mad. she simply ... gained perverse pleasure from getting under his skin; but she was only doing it to cure her boredom really. there were only so many shitty tabloids she could thumb through — had actually just finished up an article about ben and j.lo's alleged divorce and how matt damon was seen leaving his pal’s house sans wedding ring ( which could mean nothing ), evidence sitting by the register. that and it also had to do with him being a fresh face. there was an intrigue there. “ very ballsy. ” one more snap before she chipmunked the minty wad, the least she could do. jesus, it was too easy. the talks of his plans ? just fuel to add to the blazing fire. “ so, i was right. you are in for a wild night. ” she quipped. how quick she was to take the info, mull over the items, and piece together an asinine scenario in her head needed to be studied. perhaps she could put the skill to good use in the future, or right then and there. “ can see where the cards might fit into the equation. i did hear strip poker was making a comeback. ” she didn't. even so, had it even left ? she wasn’t sure either. “ those too, ” the candy and lighter. food and fire were turn-ons to some and she wasn't one to shame. however, “ i gotta ask though … ” she looked him dead in the eye. “ where exactly does the pen come into play ? ” an attempt to bite back a laugh was made, but a dimpled smile appeared instead. one that wasn't forced like many she sported. “ tell you what, since i'm feelin' generous, ” and since she figured she put him through enough — poor guy, wouldn't be shocked if he took the pen and stabbed her. “ consider this stuff my gift to you. just uh ... don’t come back and try to sue me if the condom breaks. m’not liable for that. ” should she have mentioned such a fear ? fuck no, but it was too late.

micah lets himself be berated by the girl (with his own guilt, of course), keeps his hands firmly on the edge of the counter as he patiently waits for her to finish. she catches him off guard with the lewd pop! she makes with her gum and he promptly pulls his hands back, crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive maneuver, shooting her a look of annoyance. and then comes the crude comment. she definitely saw him take those condoms with him when he'd hoped desperately she wouldn't notice (hence, the other purchases) and he glances over his shoulder past the glass windows that could use a little windex, towards the bathroom. "i- what? n-no! that's... gross, i didn't-" he shakes his head, gesturing to the still sealed pack of rubber. then he realizes that any attempts to explain himself is futile; she looks like she's already having way too much fun with this. and he can't blame her. there's not much by way of entertainment this part of town and this time of night. he should feel sorry for her, having to work this late, but he won't. not out loud.

and anyway, he's too tired to try and make a case.

another pop! and his shoulders betray the cool and calm demeanor he's been trying to uphold. "can you actually... stop that?" he narrows his eyes, winces a bit, like he's somehow trying to be careful reigning in the vexation in his voice. somehow, she seems like the type who'll probably do it some more, but he has to try. a sharp exhale, and then, "look, i'm not gonna steal from you. and i wasn't tryin' to steal from you. i am, however, tryin' to get laid, but that doesn't look like it's gonna be happening anytime soon when all my stuff's still here, you know?" he says, yonkers accent getting thicker by the word the more annoyed he gets. "anyway, m'sorry, i don't mean to be rude..." and he finds the name patched over her shirt. "...jude." god, why does that sound so funny right now? "but i'm just kinda in a hurry. i hope you understand."

[chillpills]

      the station felt like an untouched relic — retro signage hanging on by a hope and a dream, defaced playing cards thumbtacked to the wall behind the register, and old photos thrown up to crowd the remaining space. the radio still had that annoying tinny static despite many-a-fix; and if you looked close enough, you’d find names carved into a table tucked in the corner. one that sat lottery-obsessed elderly, card shuffling kids, and bored teens every now and then. some would argue the place was dated, others would defend it as character. she favored the latter — did as teen, did now, and would likely be around to when she was old and grey. because much like that very gas station, jude was a permanent fixture in blue harbor.        she'd come to terms with that over the years, knew nearly everyone as a result and could even differentiate who was who by the sound of their footsteps without sparing a glance. call it a talent. click of heels at 7:30 announced lisa, a housewife too scared to pump her own gas — probably had to do with the fact that her first and only attempt led to a dropped nozzle, a spewing outpour and a slam of the emergency stop. clunky boots at 8:45 welcomed thomas, a construction worker sneaking in to buy smokes before returning to the missus, hushed confessions of a vice he ‘couldn’t quite shake’. 10pm's arrival, however ? a nameless mystery. one she'd solve as soon as he — wait. he left. he fuckin' left. robbed her right before her very eyes. a blink of disbelief. he'd rendered her speechless. a rarity. so imagine her shock when the culprit reappeared. “ oh you'd like to, huh ? ” spoken as soon as the pen joined the pile. “ did a booming voice of a higher power strike you down and say you’d begin to cough in three days if you didn't ? you chicken out ? ” gum tucked between her molars rolled to stretch along her tongue before a sharp inhale echoed a snap ! “ or were you under the impression you could test 'em out first ? little try-before-you-buy in the bathroom ? ” attention remained on the unkempt, gaze one of amusement rather than judgement. she wasn't one to talk anyway — stood with a perpetual frizz she couldn't quite tame donning a mechanic's shirt two-sizes too big, 'jude' stitched into a patch above her heart. “ take it you were satisfied with the product ? ” look, just because she wasn't judging him didn't mean she couldn't fuck with him a little. “ quite an assortment you’ve got there, ” a glance at the plastic, “ weissberg. ” surname punctuated as she snapped her gum and eyed the additional items, couldn't help but linger a second longer on the cards. “ looks like you’re prepping for a real wild night. ” she didn't ring him up just yet, elbows dropping onto the countertop instead. “ you sure you don't want a do over ? maybe try and make it down the street this time ? last chance. ”

closed starter for jude buxton @chillpills, gulp 'n' go. april 26, 2024, 10pm.

he's been living with the same dread since he was about nine. has learned to be domestic with it in his head, really, in a nice little house, with the picket fence and central heating and everything. comfortable. and yet, he never seems to be prepared when the dread comes, even if he's in the middle of buying condoms two blocks away from a busty redhead waiting for him with a chest tattoo and a tongue piercing — punk rock jessica rabbit? was the opening line, and that was somehow amusing enough to lead to a late-night arrangement in the rougher part of town. blue harbor's very own rock bottom to oak gardens' glove world, where his father is hosting him for the foreseeable future.

but the little square dude is a braver man than he is. he's six feet with an english degree and he's falling apart. grabbing purchase on the ice cream freezer, he tries to count a sparse selection of off-brand drumsticks below him just to try and calm himself. but despite his best efforts, he can still feel the floor moving away from his feet, his physical body untethered from any grounding source.

"fuck, fuck... fuck," he hisses before deciding to throw his body against the glass door, the chimes screaming at the girl behind the register to announce his exit. he makes a beeline for the one bathroom outside, kicks open a cubicle, but even with his heart in his throat and the air around him getting dangerously thinner, he chokes out a laugh at the notion that of course the toilet doesn't have a fucking cover. pacing backwards, he leans against the discolored sink, dried... stuff and other unidentifiable fluids crusting up along the ceramic. he needs to be close to the ground. squeezing his eyes shut, he foregoes his disgust for gas station restrooms and situates himself on the floor beside the sink, forehead against his forearms as he attempts to regulate his breathing.

and it must be fifteen, twenty minutes later that he unclenches his fists and a slim pack of durex falls out.

shit.

—

"hi, i'd... like to pay for these."

the shiny white plastic bearing his name is slid across the counter next to the condoms and a bottle of room temp water. his clipped curls are slightly disheveled. one side of his collar is sticking out the wrong way and the sleeves of his hoodie are folded up in different lengths. he surveys the various items on the counter and hastily decides to throw in a neon yellow bic lighter, a watermelon-flavored chupa chups, a pack of sour trolli gummies, a deck of bicycle cards, and a blue pen into the mix. he tries not to make eye contact with the cashier and instead draws his attention towards the headlines on yesterday's paper sitting on the magazine rack nearby.