vcnombrock-blog

[vcnombrock-blog]

“We should go somewhere safe, Eddie. We can only make the effect of the toxin less, we can’t protect you completely.” The symbiote won’t stop arguing with him about his continued presence on the streets--particularly after a nasty episode starring what he was certain was really his father. New York City goes to hell on a regular basis, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen it this bad, where people were literally so far gone that they were ready to tear each other apart--people who don’t deserve it are going to get hurt if he doesn’t do something, and that’s always been where the line existed for him. He doesn't care if drug dealers and bigots tear each other limb from limb in some kind of terrified hallucinatory state--he’s firm on that. “Just give me whatever you’ve got my darling, and I promise you we’ll make it out of this. I may even let you feast before the night is out.” 

He struggles with a man who thinks he’s drowning, webs a woman to a wall when she sees the symbiote’s teeth and thinks he’s a dog that going to attack her, but he’s not fast enough to stop a small mob from forming in the middle of the street. He ducks into an alley and lets the symbiote rescind, baring his face for the moment. It’s dangerous, and he can already feel a modicum of panic welling up inside of him, but he needs a second to breathe. “Do you think our venom could counteract whatever is in the air?” He asks, but the symbiote’s answer is drowned out by the sudden appearance of another person. 

“Let me guess,” He drawls as the symbiote covers him again, bares its teeth. “You're afraid of spiders.” 

[vcnombrock-blog]

Eddie’s not really a fan of bars--his life may leave a lot to be desired, but he’s still too smart and in possession of just enough self esteem to be the kind of person that drowns his sorrows at the bottom of a shot glass. That’s not even touching the fact that alcohol doesn’t exactly mix with the symbiote, and it definitely doesn’t like it when Eddie’s in closed, crowded spaces. He’s just in need of a place to lay low until the CEO of the supposed nonprofit he’s investigating goes home for the night, and this particular bar seems quiet enough. “I know you don’t like it, love. But it won’t be for long.” He says quietly, when he feels the symbiote pulling at him. 

He picks a seat at the end of the bar, away from the majority of the crowd that are milling around--there’s a younger guy nursing a beer with a scowl on his face, but Eddie would wager that he wants to talk to this guy as much as this guy wants to talk to him. He’s apparently wrong in that assessment however, as the guy speaks up when Eddie sits down and starts fishing for the paperback he keeps in his camera bag. “Yeah, okay. I don’t drink, I’m literally only interested in this seat. So, thanks for the honesty feelings hour, and no worries.” He opens his book and makes to start reading, steadfastly ignoring the symbiote’s suggestion that they make the bartender pay for his rude behavior later. 

It was one of his last shifts of the week and Bobby was finding himself getting bored of the constant streams of customers that bombarded his quiet little bar. School was getting to him, his job was getting to him and right now it seemed that everybody in a fifty mile radius was just determined to annoy the young mutant. 

His eyes rolled. Feeling a presence enter his personal space. Taking a long swig of his drink and mentally preparing himself for what was possibly about to go down, good or bad.

‘’Look, before you ask I’m on break, so if you want a drink you’re gonna just have to ask one of the guys behind the bar- sorry in advance for the sucky service due to the lack of me. now can you piss off?’’  Bobby huffed as he gripped at the icey rim of his beer. Not even bothering to look up to who he was venting his frustrations onto. He was barely functioning on a lack of sleep and a diet of alcohol and iced lattes, along with having to battle his own personal demons, so you couldn’t exactly blame him for being a little cranky.