#ft. jace

[midnightscxre]

@waywordhearts [ Closed starter ]

Calloused palms traveled across the silky surface whose scent did not belong in his private quarters. The thick, sooty smoke of cigarettes smoked in the cramped space the ashy blond man called his bedroom was replaced by fresh air in which the aroma nourished the nostrils and did not disgust them. The sapphire eyes blinked away the fatigue and took in the surroundings. The confusion lasted for a couple of strong heartbeats, until the stupor of sleep was replaced by the realization of where he was. The muscular body tensed, lifting itself into a sitting position, elbows resting on knees as broad palms rubbing the heavy eyelids. Movement made him wince, a habit, instinct -- necessity to survive in the world of horrific crimes the president of ' Devil's stranglers ' chose -- always be on alert, one finger on the trigger and another ready to capture the neck of the enemy. " Hey . . . " Although the tempting shape in front of him was no way near a repellent sight he needs to destroy, nothing he needs to ' fear ', the caution remained for a moment too long.

The usual feeling of irritation that would rise as a tide seeing a ' sweet-bud ' overstaying her welcome back in the motor club was replaced by some strange relaxation, sight of the woman mellowing the senses, silencing the constant worry and driving the everlasting tension in the broad shoulders away. Azure irises fell upon a strangely shaped cup, probably a work of art Jace didn't know how to appreciate since his beverages came either in bottles or disposable paper cups, from which steam was rising, carrying another seducing smell. Rough fingers curled over the prepared drink, bringing it to the smirking lips. " Thanks . . . " a name. A name was supposed to be added at the end of the word of appreciation. A name he didn't know. Was not supposed to know. Jace entered this arrangement with rules chiseled in stone tables - no names, no details, no calls, no talks, no. . . well, nothing but physical pleasure. An exchange that worked perfectly well until the present moment.

Not that the man didn't have an abundance of willing women back at his motor club, but those had nothing to say except for ' yes sir, whatever you wish sir ', like programmed robots in tight skirts -- something Jace didn't find compelling at all. Boring. Yet, no matter with who he shared the sheets for the night, his rules were clear to the other person as well. Not one woman, even those whose heart was broken by the ugly truth, had one bad thing to say about Jace Catto. A man who never hid his intentions, had his cards open -- that he will never be nothing but a pleasure provider. That he can't stay and be the knight in the shining armor. Not because he didn't want to, hell, one of the biggest hidden dreams was a stable relationship that bloomed in a loving family -- white fence, dog, house, couple of kids and a wife. . . a distant dream. Jace saw too many of his fellow men lost their sanity to alcohol, drugs and sorrow after reality slapped them in the face. For criminals like them, there was no happy ending. Family killed, kidnapped, or just ran after they realized how cruel the world of crime is. The man vowed never to expose no one to its horrors.

" I really didn't mean to crash here, darling. No fake excuses. I wouldn't hold it against you if you kicked me out. " soft muscle licked the drops of coffee from the lips. What in the bloody hell is her name? Thought rang through the privacy of his head. Grabbing the crumpled white t-shirt from the corner of the sofa, Jace pulled it over the head and strong arms. Why did he stay in the first place? Man couldn't recall, yet there was no alcohol, or better said not enough of it, for him to use as an excuse -- it was just tiredness and the feeling of relaxation that made him stay. Jace got to his feet, scanning the living room as he approached her, taking a few hefty sips of the divine coffee. " Nice place. You live alone or should I expect an angry boyfriend coming too early from a business trip and have a nice brawl for a wake up recipe instead of the coffee? " Smooth chuckle accompanied the half-joke, because the example happened more than once. . . Finally the feet stopped collecting steps and the much larger silhouette towered over the smaller one. Corners of the lips curling in a smile before the brain even realized it. " Don't take this the wrong way darling but, I think crashing at one's crib and serving coffee demands a name. " crossing his own limits, Jace continued. " I know the deal and all, but ermm. . . would like to express my thanks properly, ye? " Slight Irish accent explained. " Name is Jace Catto. " He offered first.

[theobrowningfd]

@jaceeverett

[castillo-aargon]

✨ + jace !

castillo: If I find one more rubber duck in this house castillo: I will create seventy sock puppet accounts on Yelp castillo: Your 4.7 star rating will drop to a 2.3 castillo: Black Cat Cafe will mysteriously jump to a 4.9 castillo: Your days as Aurora Bay's premier cafe are numbered, child

@jaceberg

[jacenotjason]

moar concept art

characters I haven't really touched in the Opposite au just yet

These were just based on memory so subject to change ppfpft

[italicized-oh]

so I should be writing a conference paper but. instead I am thinking about jace and anger. specifically autistic meltdown rage. like. god. being told what you do looks easy and so why do you complain about it / what could you possibly be upset about you have such Talent such Gift. and just being absolutely furious with nowhere to put that rage except. no. I shan't say

yes I shall say. put that rage in his hole!!

[castillo-aargon]

@jaceberg

Criminal Minds 2.08

[lonelyhcart]

📸 + Sterling

@sterlingxlevin

also have an insta story from june of 2023.

[midnightscxre]

@snfully​​ continued from x

There was always the taboo topic of the wrath dwelling within the usually chilled man. Even the MC gang knew better than to poke the lion, to provoke the vicious dragon from its slumber. Man with golden strands was aware of the demon residing inside his skeleton cage, aware of the devastating damage its rancor can bring -- but the truth was, good intentions and hope were powerless once the devil was freed. It was as if it took complete control of the steering wheel, pumping the nitro of rage into the body that moved as it pleased, not as Jace wanted it.

Hardened man expected some dirty details of potentially turbulent past, maybe a fun story or two he can use to avoid the same mistakes with her, to treat her better as he already was determined to do -- but what he was not ‘  ready  ‘ for, was the gruesome story that injected him with anger, blinding hatred and blood thirsty instinct. The more she spoke, the more his muscular shoulders lowered, almost trying to shield her from the past that already made its damage to her. The agonizing expression on the beautiful face making the head spin with murderous desire to crush the human scum daring to lay a hand on the prettier sex. 

“ What?  “ Hoarse, sharp whisper slipped between the teeth, jaw clenched. Barely did he let go of her when she went for the plush toy, feet moving instantly to follow, rough palm delicately but firmly finding her waist again. Blue irises observing the braveness Amelia had, something that not only amazed him, but made the crave to rip the spine out from the prick that abused her all that more intense. “ That is not enough. Not even nearly enough. “ ignoring the question about the ride, Jace’s hand cupped the rosy cheek with care, head devouring distance between them. “  What is his name?  “ as calmly as he could, Jace asked. 

“ I need you to tell me sweetheart, name and residence. If not the second thing, the first will do.  “ thumb gently brushed over the smooth skin. “  That asshole will get what is coming to him, I promise you that.  Tonight.“ and he meant it, no matter that he just met her, Jace was ready to spill blood for his name, to return the honor and dignity to the cracks of trauma that dared to ruin her past life. 

[midnightscxre]

The eyebrows jumped in sincere surprise, the lips covered with the taste of tobacco and the remains of whiskey from an hour ago slightly opened . "You actually work here?" tone breathed out in amazement. The notions of the gravedigger were stereotyped in his brain. Dusty, scowling, gray-faced, hunched, with a muddy shovel draped over a worn black coat -- definitely not a young, attractive woman with round sapphire eyes. Rough fingers rubbed the chin in wonder. Maybe he shouldn't have made premature judgments, after all, he had seen enough contradictory and shocking things in his thirty years of life to know not to draw conclusions based on superficial observation. Yet, it was still quite puzzling. Fortunately, Jace was drawn to things he couldn't fully explain -- it definitely explained his friendship with Clare, that woman being a constant enigma all his life, and no matter that he viewed her almost like a sister, there was so much he just couldn't understand regarding her choices.

" Well that's too bad, would enjoy a magic show, or could really use a wish. " adding with a another slight grin, man discarded the burned out cigarette, flexing his shoulders. " I don't think it's smart for you to do any more walking. " stating knowingly, head tilted towards her dusty, scratched knees. A second passed before the large shape shifted, moving closer, and thick forearms slipped under her thighs, wide palm finding it's place on her waist. Lifting her like she weighted nothing, feet began collecting steps between illuminated graves and small areas filled with flowers. A few moments were spent in pleasant silence, as the grey optics observed the scenery. Tall thumbs, statues of angels and saints, flickering lights of the candles, tidy gravel paths, shadows dancing on the grave stones. . . all unusually calming. Observing it, Jace had to admit that maybe, slightly, he began to understand Clare's choices to visit such places for mere enjoyment. Well, if he ruled out the grim reality and purpose of this area. " Have a friend. She is into this kind of stuff. . . never fully understood it. " he began casually. " Likes those bloody horror books as well. " It was strange, the way he shared an information with a stranger. President and hardened criminal like him that breaks necks and shoots people dead for not many sins, taking a stroll on a grave yard, chit-chatting about his personal life. But somehow, it didn't bother him.

" Name's Jace. " the blond man offered, looking down at her, secured in his embrace. " Had any sightings, some grave encounters while you were working here? " genuine curiosity masked with humor. Of course there was nothing supernatural. Years of kneeling on pews of an old, rotten church with a drunken priest in a small town ruled by strict religion combined with a hard life filled with tragedy roots out such believes from a person. Specially when his lifestyle was a one way ticked to hell. " I must admit darling, I know this area quite well, never seen you around. "

If it were up to Cindy Berman, she'd never see a dead anything for the remainder of her un-life. The incidents back at camp had been enough blood and destruction and trauma for more than a lifetime, as evidenced in reliving it in her mind after death and rebirth. But unfortunately that was the push and pull of the cemetery. It meant she had to come back, at least from time to time, to essentially recharge. Best to just live next to it, she thought after learning this. The people were nice enough and it gave the displaced woman a place to be. "Bad luck. Right, right- not really a believer in those sorts of things," Even with the extreme bad luck that befell her, the good luck evened it out and made the whole thing a wash. At least that's what Cindy told herself day in and day out. "Rituals? Gods, no. I just work for the caretaker here. Caretakers, whatever. Thankfully those you're talking about aren't here ever day," Faust was annoying enough without seeing him every day. The gesture would have made her blush and stammer in the old days. Even if Tommy and her were still happening, a large handsome man doing such a thing to her was not unwelcomed. There was still a smile but her nerves had cooled as her body had rotted. Like drinking of the earth's reality while six feet under. "I can say with absolute certainty that I am no witch," And yet he could've had one if he found one of the girls, "And I am no fish." Nico. Did this guy know about them? "As for my home, you can walk me there if you'd like. I live on the other side of the graveyard."

[rcdiostcrs]

i feel like rhis would have adored bianca di angelo. another underworldly / dark-powered hunter!!

[castillo-aargon]

✨ + noelle

castillo: I leave for 3 hours castillo: My oldest, my youngest and Jace Bergeron took 100 rubber ducks castillo: And hid them all over the house castillo: I've so far found 57 castillo: Think I can get out of murder charges three times over?

@noellexdriscoll @jaceberg

[reconstructionlegacy]

[ID: A line graph called "Malgus' Fear". The vertical axis is labelled "Malgus' fear of them," the horizontal axis is labelled "Gruntlement with this fear level". The three data points are Jace Malcolm, Satele Shan, and Darth Vowrawn. As the line, labelled "fear," shows, Malgus is slightly frightened of Jace Malcolm, somewhat frightened of Satele Shan, and extremely frightened of Darth Vowrawn. Malcolm is unhappy about this, Shan is mildly dissatisfied, and Vowrawn is extremely smug (gruntled). End ID]

[castillo-aargon]

"couldn't tell you. haven't been since I got kicked out for complaining too much about the service." cas quipped right back before taking another drink of his half-consumed rum and coke. "I'm here because a friend asked me to be here. you know Jasper Morgan? he's been bothering me to come out and be more social for a while now and it was getting to the point I couldn't stop canceling on him." his words struggling over the music (he swore he was going to lose his voice come tomorrow morning).

bright eyes rolled at jace's next statement. "well, you're around me, aren't you?" his tone drenched in obvious sarcasm and a chuckle to truly button his intentions. jace might as well have been his own flesh and blood at this point. an honorary son he had taken under his wing, yet would never hesitate to playfully, verbally spar with. "better then whatever you're dressed as. how did you even come up with the concept as dressing up as a baked potato wrapped in tin foil?" another chuckle following his tease.

closed starter : @castillo-aargon

where : sharky's monster mash.

"Has hell frozen over?" Jace quips as he walks over to the familiar face at one of the distant tables in the back of the venue. "What on earth are you doing here?" he asks, plopping down in the previously empty seat across from Cas, his brows furrowing at the sight of his friend in his typical casual getup. "You look miserable," he chuckles, the understatement not lost on him. "Is this part of the costume or something, sad lawyer?" he jokes, raising his chilled beer bottle to his lips.

[jaceberg]

📸 + Mikey

ft. @mikeyxcallahan

[prettyboy-glowinggold]

Charlie pulled his coat closer to his body as he pushed into the bar. He would prefer to be at home, curled up on the couch watching trashy tv. But he agreed to this, meeting up for drinks with a colleague. Charlie knew he wasn't' the friendliest person around, and people steered clear of him. But Jace, Jace headed straight for him.

Stepping into the bar, Charlie looked around trying to see if he could spot Jace, frowning as he couldn't spot the familiar man. Charlie sighed as he walked over to the bar. Knocking on the bar gently, he nodded towards bartender. "Whiskey, neat please." Charlie said as he looked back towards the door, waiting for the man. Charlie ran a hand through his hair, looking back at the bartender when he heard the glass being put in front him.

Charlie picked up his glass, and took a sip as his eyes drifted towards the door again, just as it opened and familiar face walked in. Charlie raised a hand, to let him know he was at the bar. Charlie faked a smile as the other man walked towards him. "Hey." Charlie said softly as he took another mouthful of his drink.

[midnightscxre]

A trace of a smile appeared as quickly as it disappeared. Yeah, no shit mate. If you were dating, I would personally hand you the ' man with biggest balls ' award right this instant. Biker thought to himself, heedful to the way this lie was formed. Commitment to honor a promise or even warning, knowing the despotic way his redheaded friend handles things, earned a few point of respect from the ashy blond male. Broad shoulders tensed, nostrils slowly releasing the deep breath stuck in the muscular chest on the next statement. Underground fights. Not a bit shocked, taste for the perilous adventures certainly one of Clare's sins. Still, every such guilty pleasure provided on the underground buffet carries a certain price.

Even a mere observer enjoying the illegal show might get in trouble, and the man feared Clare was not just watching from the sidelines. The concern grew the longer Vince went on. Bloodied knuckles and the posture confirmed the mentioned profession, which again was a two edged sward. Capable to protect, but also -- it is possible that he is subject to aggressiveness, unrestrainedness and if compared to Jace, might black out from the rush that anger gives. . . and if the compass of what is allowed and what definitely isn't is even slightly cracked, it might result in a tragedy.

Sudden rise of the blood pressure on the mere idea of Clare getting in the way when this man gets violent got him sick to his stomach. " I really hope you know the boundaries where that talent of yours must not go astray. " Clare is certainly a nerve challenger, getting people on the edge, so having someone easily triggered was not a good combination. Watchful eye would be above Vince, no matter what the man claimed and promised. Trace of rudeness and hostility slipped under the usual death sentence that followed as a result. As already decided, this situation required adjusted approach, and the reaction was natural -- and correct, since Jace trusted the words about Clare being the one spilling the beans. " I'll see that she does. " replying simply, nothing giving away his thoughts.

Whole ox could be roasted twice with the heat Jace placed on the stranger, soaking in every movement, shadows of various emotions traveling along the facial features, unspoken words flashing in the direct, rebellious glare. Tension so thick in the night air that one could cut it with a kitchen knife. Jace awaited the reaction, ready for whatever it may be. A fist, a retuned threat, insult, quitting this situation . . . but a dose of relief came when Vince answered politely no matter the strained nerves. Biker saw something cracked in the man, something locked away and key swallowed, dreading it might be unleashed. Jace's threats clearly caused a crack in that Pandora's box. . . but something held Vince back, restrained, focused. . . and Jace hoped it was the fondness for Clare. " Good. " nodding as he launched another burned out cigarette under the truck, Jace turned to the bull. " We will see how it goes. " Before he could continue, the man was gone, giving almost an uninterested 'excuse' and disappearing into the club. Callused fingers fished something from the back pocket of the jeans, but this time it wasn't candy nor cigarettes. Smartphone pressed on the ear after dialing the number, the other person answered after two rings. " I need you to do something, mate. I want to know who has illegal brawls in the area, not new but going for some time, keeps the fighters on the payroll, probably does not change the bodies often. Also, Vincent Kraus, I want everything, from the damn birth certificate to how many times does he takes a piss. Find where he fights. Probably will be harder, damn circles of those are closed. . . but not impenetrable. Pay off whoever wants to sing, but keep it on the low, got it? Good. " Hanging up, Jace turned to the metal beast.

***

Woman's feet almost got tangled in a sea of ​​speaker cables as she stormed off the stage. Applause went unnoticed, whistling and cheering fell on deaf ears, only the goal of ghosting the stage as soon as humanly possible remained. Hourglass shape dived in the shadows of the storage room behind the wooden stairs, back pressed on the cold wall filled with signatures of the former bands playing, eyes closed shut. It alright, no one heard shit. Comforting the agitated thoughts, Clare had only one name tied to that 'no one'. He didn't hear it, he does not now, he -- . . . is right next to her. Jumping from the noise of his voice, eyeballs nearly rolled out from their sockets, jaw loosened and nearly dropping to the floor. " What -- " Compliment only caused the ivory cheeks to turn strawberry red, disbelief attacking the brain. No. . . he didn't hear it. . . he couldn't have . . . ' It was about me wasn't it? ' Thor's hammer mercilessly hammered at the skeleton cage. Master of pulling herself out of any sticky situation. . . until now.

Lack of experience where the feelings were bare and served on the silver platter delivered her right to the cage of his suspicion. . . no, even worse -- conclusion. Clearing the throat as the pupils danced behind the wide shoulders, staring at anything but Vince's face, Clare raised her chin and pushed the shaky hands in the small space of her leather jeans pockets. " It is just a song. Not even mine. " Best she could do? In this shaken moment, yes. Shameful for her usual trickster performance. " I--I've heard it. So -- have no clue what you talking about. " Tone way too insecure and giving away the ' caught red handed ' moment to sound genuine. Pursed lips and eyes rolling inside the pink eyelids on the new attempt to tease her, but before she could muster another clumsy comeback, she was invited to join him for a drink. Silently the gaze followed the tall figure's departure, sensing the high, nearly joyful spirits that filled the aura. Thickly she swallowed. He was not bothered, not judgemental, but it seemed . . . he was glad.

Was it possible the feelings he held went beyond the simple crave for curves and short time that didn't mean nothing? Butterflies in the stomach basked on the idea, as Clare sensed something she never did before -- euphoria of crushing on someone, like a silly teenager getting their first 'wink' from their 'chosen one'. Before she could overthink it, ruby haired woman found herself in front of a cracked, dirty mirror in the corner of the room, fixing the little make up she had, combing the scarlet strands with sharp nails. What the -- what was she doing? Deep inhale followed. There was no escaping this night any longer, and a drink was the only savior. At least it will take the edge off while she decided to see this evening through without listening to the choir of demons that existed for one purpose only -- to ruin everything connected to the matters of the heart.

Rage was no stranger to the senses, it was a spiked emotion she knew almost as good as her twin. It filled every inch of her existence, nails sinking in the sweaty palms, while the repellent sight unfolded in front of her. The man that was just next to her, expressing his fondness toward the revealing lyrics, being covered in inappropriate and not at all discreet touches. Abhorrence wrapping her with its ropes, choking the morals and delivering only one solution -- bury them both six feet deep. It would be inevitable, no words would convince her otherwise if it was not for the same group of Avril Lavigne's poor copies from earlier, chatting and giggling a meter away, revealing the truth about this situation. " She will totally get him. " " I bet she can, that will teach that redheaded slut. "

It was a miracle that their teeth were not scattered across the floor then and there, but Clare arranged her priorities differently. She pushed her lithe body swiftly and deftly like a stalking panther through the crowd, her focus only on the one blond head with cheap extensions that wrapped around her man's arm like a boa constrictor. A man whose facial expression showed the same amount of disgust. Woman's silhouette materialized behind the drunken woman as a ghost escaping the peaceful grave after being summoned. . . and the dealt with the situation as every vengeful being would. Hard tip of the black boot hitting the plastic heel which broke like a mere twig. A scream muffled by the music escaped from a mouth that reeked of stale beer, when the woman lost her already strained balance, falling to the floor filled with cigarette butts and faded shoe prints. People separated, and a ghostly shadow fell over the unfortunate woman. One sudden movement, fast as the speed of light, caused a painful shriek. . . Tacky pink nails covering the left eye. " I told you what will happen. " Menacing whisper traveled to the blond's ear canal. A crumpled, hairy thing landed in the woman's lap -- a fake,plastic piece of glued eyelashes. . . one that Clare tore from the girl's eyelid. Leaning closer, all the way to the petrified face, Clare's index finger pointed to the other eye. " This one was not yours, but if you don't get your bony ass out of my sight and away from him, next time it will be something of yours. " Pointing to the fake eyelashes then her eyeball, Clare watched the woman trying to get up, but the broken heel made the attempt impossible. Rest of the women were pale as winter's snow, watching their friend pulling the heels off in sheer horror, barefoot disappearing in the crowd.

" Beer Barney, and one tequila. " Turning to the bar as the crowed around her didn't stare at her in shock without blinking, Clare pulled her leather jacket off, flexing the slender shoulders. Barney didn't seem all too stunned, more amused and slightly surprised, watching her than the reason why this nasty sight occurred. After downing the whole glass of beer, Clare tilted her head toward Vince, eyebrows kitting and lips pursed in disapproval while she observed the touched piece of skin. " I would pour some alcohol on that spot, don't know what kind of diseases she had. " Nonchalantly the woman pointed out, leaning over the bar. " So, the bull? "

Answer came from the different pair of lips. " Just getting in. " Pyke emerged from the sea of guests, standing next to Vince. " Here you go Vincent. " Slamming the hundred dollar bill on the wooden surface, the man smiled. " Barney, you are all stacked up for a month. " The news were received with absolute pleasure, as the plump owner placed another reward next to Benjamin. " Here ya go young blood. " A bottle of whiskey, stolen goods he just shared. " On the house. "

The air felt thick with tension while standing there, not expecting the two other men who made their presence known out of the shadows, waiting for their next move. Expression appearing detached as if they didn't bother him, when in all actuality he was fearful for his life. Honestly, he surprised himself that he even came to assist as well, but at the same time felt it’d been mandatory. Like he didn't have a choice. Realizing he wasn’t being brought here to be beaten to a bloody pulp and left for the coyotes to pick on, relief washed over him in waves, yet he still kept a watchful eye just in case. Not that he stood a chance since there were three against one, but he for sure wouldn’t back down. The Irish accent ceased his thoughts, along with the gruff words of the other man who was referred to as 'Tig', and when the truck door opened, side glances were sent towards him in hopes of a negative reaction. Gawking at every ounce of product in awe, they certainly rounded up the good stuff, and a lot of it. Revealing this as stolen goods didn’t surprise him since he had a gut feeling that Jace wasn't a saint by any means, making sure to collect and keep every puzzle piece given so he could put it all together. If Vince wasn’t mixed in with what he'd been in now, a different reaction would’ve been given. One of shock. Fear. And most of all, resentment. Being one of those people to use the police as a threat. Instead, he didn’t give the reaction all of them pined for, much to the disappointment of the crew.

When Pyke acknowledged him without malice, respect was given towards the crew member for acting as if his presence wasn't bothersome, even if the male held a sense of resentment on the inside. "Right. On it." A grin following at Pyke smacking the mechanical animal, grabbing a barrel alongside him and carrying it inside, placing it in its correct spot. When he went back to retrieve the whiskey boxes, the gruff voice of the older man could be heard again. Biting down on his tongue to hold back any remark, he picked up the pace with no hesitation as commanded by Tig, scooping up the box of alcohol and bringing it inside, setting it down on one of the empty tables. Having found some humor in his words. The guy appeared to be cautious around newcomers, so it wasn’t something Vince took to heart. Paul was the exact same way, minus the snarky jokes, having witnessed it firsthand when he brought in new recruits.

When he walked out, prepared to grab another box, he halted at the change in atmosphere. Turning his head slightly, peripheral view caught the piercing gaze of Jace, sending some form of shiver down his spine. Blood running cold. Catching sight of the firearm that hung alongside his hip, nervousness gnawing away like a parasite while he pretended not to see it, feeling as if he were placed under a spotlight when Jace began to question why and how he managed to dodge the claws of Clare. It caught him off guard, he should've expected it to happen, it would've been foolish to think he'd be able to waltz in like some carefree simpleton without some form of confrontation. As mentioned, Clare wasn't one to just let anyone in or allow them to pass inspection for that matter. Muscles tensed and guard rising when the two crew members were ordered to go inside, leaving both him and Jace alone. The silence had been deafening, minus the chatter from the group of people standing far away that echoed through the air, and the occasional owl making its presence known. The man’s behavior was entirely different compared to how it was back at the apartment. No playfulness. No smile. Only a look a lion would give towards its meek prey.

“We aren’t dating if that’s what you’re insinuating. Purely platonic.” Vince tutted with the shake of his head followed by a feigned smirk, playing it off as if his feathers weren't ruffled. It pained him to even say that, but it was the truth, aside from the last part. He wasn’t going to break his promise on revealing the night they spent together or even her involvement with Paulie for that matter, especially knowing this guy meant serious business, the truth would have to be beaten out of him. Once he makes a promise to someone he cares enough about, he doesn't break it. “I know her because she attends fights, which I’m sure you’re aware of. It’s what I do. And I’m good at what I do. I don't do hospitals unless I'm about to die, and she picked up on that. Helped tend to my wounds, it's just a mutual thing we clicked on.” He gestured with the wave of his hand as if it were no big deal. Having picked up on the obvious codes behind their words, there was no sense in hiding his true nature. Plus, he wanted to make a point that he wasn’t some average man, but one who could and would fight until the death if need be. “You know what? I think she’d rather speak for me anyway, so if you wanna know any vivid details about how we know one another then ask her for yourself.” It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic, but it happened to come out that way, what’d been said was mainly to save face. There was no other excuse he could possibly conjure up that would be convincing to the biker, who threw invisible daggers and munched loudly on candy to prevent from breaking bones.

When Jace stepped forward he stepped back instinctively, observing his surroundings in all directions in case his men tried to pull a fast one like a pack of wolves. The side he didn’t want to reveal came out, just a little, loathing the feeling of being backed into a corner like some caged animal. The laid-back side having been replaced with a defensive stance. Jaw taut and teeth practically baring. Hardened stare with a newfound intensity, pupils dilating so quickly nearly his entire iris disappeared like a shark detecting the smell of blood. As if he were prepared to strike, which he wouldn't unless if someone else were to first or if provoked enough, he’d be singled out with the chance of being silenced with a weapon, on top of that losing any chance with Clare in the process. But something that didn’t set right with him were three things: being talked down to, threats against him, and threats against his life. It reminded him of his father, who used acts of humiliation and partook in such behavior. An unintentional trigger given from the sharp tongue and actions of Jace. Unaware of the true occupation of the leather clad man before him, he didn’t think Jace held the same power as Paul. Paul had put him in his place once, and he never felt more inferior, more shameful than he did in that moment. Powerless. He wasn’t going to let it slide, no, not this time. In all fairness, he tried to understand that this man has familial ties with Clare, he was just watching her back as most figures do. Hell, his friend Julian was the same way, having to convince that this was just for Clare's wellbeing. Eyelids closed for a split second, taking a much-needed breath, he calmed himself and responded with a serious tone, boring into the dark depths of the other, accent slipping by accident out of frustration. “We’re clear. I’m a man of my word.” Did he open a can of worms? Likely. But did he regret it? Absolutely not.

Thankfully, before anything else could be said or happen to be blown out of proportion, he could hear the sound of a guitar strum and muffled words said into a microphone from inside. "That's crazy, but I gotta go." Response was dismissive and short at whatever Jace decided to throw at him, putting their ‘stand off’ to an end when he practically disappeared through the back door without a word or look over his shoulder, quickly passing Tig and Pyke in the process while weaving through the crowd of people. What he wanted was to see Clare perform, that was his whole initial purpose in the first place. Not exchanging blows with someone she viewed as a sibling. Nothing else mattered, maybe the booze, but that wasn’t the primary focus. Standing towards the back, broad arms crossing over his chest, anticipation eating him alive. When she began, stomach felt as if it did backflips, full attention on the woman he was smitten by. Not acknowledging anyone else in the crowd, even if a few local attendees gave side glances at the newcomer. It was as if a hypnotist were waving an object back and forth in front of him to put him in a trance. Every word he’d caught on, it’d been as clear as day. Goosebumps forming on his skin, pretty boy. Heart hammering in his chest, electric shockwaves shooting through every vein, and when the song ended, the sound of people's cheers snapped him back to reality with a few blinks. When she finished up, he waited for the right moment and jogged over to where she stood, glancing around to make sure it was just them two. For now. “You keep surprising me, Clare. You were great.” The words were genuine, eyes gleaming with delight as he stared into her own. “It was about me, wasn’t it?” There it was, the teasing being brought back to life alongside the cheshire grin. Even if she were to deny it, he'd play along, knowing the truth was in plain sight. It was obvious from the get-go. "So, I am your groupie after all yeah?" Head cocked slightly to the side, canine teeth biting down on his tongue. Complete switch of behavior, not like how it was outside. "I'm gonna make a trip to the bar." In other words 'I'm gonna seek something strong to ease my conscience due to what I'd happened to experience'. "You can join me when you've finished up. I'd like you to." He encouraged, flashing a toothy smile before turning away and heading towards the bar. He signaled for a round towards the older man behind the counter, who was currently wiping it down because a scrawny man sporting a cowboy hat too big for his head spilled his drink from too much consumption. "Give me the strongest thing you got." Words held desperation behind them. A shot of absinthe was given, and he downed it as if he'd been deprived of water for days, the burning sensation in his throat caused him to shake his head and slam the shot glass down on the wooden surface, pointing towards it for another. The elder man cocking a curious brow alongside a smile before obliging. It didn't take too long before an unfamiliar figure approached him, a woman who looked like the watered-down version of Lita Ford, a disinterested look was shot at her, but she didn't take a hint. "Well, aren't you handsome." She purred flirtatiously, eyelashes batting while long fingernails traced along his bicep, which tensed out of discomfort, practically salivating over him as if he were a piece of grade A top choice meat. A sour look sent towards the woman, nose scrunching up in disgust, she reeked of alcohol. Her arm linked through his, peering up at him to await a response, only to be given rhetorical question spat with clear distaste. "Do you mind?" Shoulders rose to shrug her off of him, as if he were flicking off a pesty bug.