all-jacked-up
Jack
xX~RP Blog~Xx
listen up listen up
there's a devil in the church
got a bullet in the chamber
and this is gonna hurt
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Just say “drunk” like a normal ass person.
the car window is foggy from your breath, but you think it is raining. you have no clue where you are or where you are going. mindless chatter from those you know and love fills your ears. the sound of a favourite song flickers in and out over everything else.
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Everytime I ask about alcoholic, your name comes up. Makes sense, I can smell the booze on you from here.
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#this is why i wont drive a car anymore, Buck #the desert is bumpy #riding on the hood to look badass isnt practical #i got shot three times going back for you
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“Gotta gorilla sized man that keeps pullin peoples head off waiting for me at home. Course I got somewhere better to be.” Her motion wasn't anywhere near as smooth, but it was faster, there was booze and it needed to be in her. She barley seemed to grimace at the taste (though even she had to).
“But the booze is here...” She downed some more, and was already preempting finishing it, throwing more money 0onj the table. This time, some of the blood was fresh. She forgot, after a while, to wipe her knuckles. It was why she always wore a black top, though. She wiped them on the front of her tank top.
“...Just don’t trust these people. Buncha kids, run away, dye their hair. One they really figure out it ain’t all raves and they’re eatin dog food....” She gave another angry and suspicious glare at the patron next to her, that clearly had saw nothing. “...they’ll sell ya out for a corn chip off a Dracs dick. And I get shot enough by you people, don’t need the city blowin hole in my too.” she mock-toasted, and downed the rest in a gulp. That was enough of a mouthful to get an actual grimace.
all-jacked-up:
“Whatever’s cheapest and nastiest.” She said, half distracted by trying to decide if the money she found with the blood on it was too bloody. She had to remember to get some kinda wallet, she thought, tossing it on the counter. She’d long ago figured out that nothing at all actually got her drunk, and wasting money on anything good was pointless. It was just a fancy way for fancy people to get drunk, in her opinion. If it did burn a hole in her throat, she’d be fine. She was pretty sure people had tried to ‘cut’ her drinks with actual turpentine. To save money, or kill her, or both.
“Pretty sure you just said…” she squinted and cocked her head just a touch like she was trying to be sure “you said money? Yeah? Ya left half the alphabet outta that so the fuck knows. Here’s a glittery hair tie just in case.”
Halfway through a pause that, almost certainly would have been followed by something unpleasant, someone knocked into her, enough to slide her forward on her seat (shed been off balance enough for her weight to shift). The hand that braced itself on the edge of the counter, in an instant, sprouted metal claws. They came fast, with a sound, metal and meaty. And were gone, back inside the hands again as quickly as they’d come out.
Jack took a quick look at the people next to her, mostly enjoying the scene and their friends, nobody had seemed to notice. The only thing that marked that they had been there was blood between her knuckles.
“Booze, cup.” she pushed the money at him, getting back on the stool. “You people wait for pre-tips or somethin?” Jack sounded just a bit more, rustled in her insults this time. The way she looked around now was less annoyed, more angry, maybe paranoid. Like she was just waiting for someone to say something, and she hoped she got her booze first.
Oh, good, the terrible zone alk would do nicely, then. He turned away to get the bottle as she continued on–it wasn’t like he really needed to hear her properly to know she was probably saying some rude thing or another, like half the kids he’d grown up with–and turned back in time to see a flash of metal from something retreating… under her hand? Into her jacket? (It was hard to tell, with the lights set up the way they were, and only part of his attention on her.)
“Y’got somewhere better t’ be’n wait a hot second fer me t’ pour?” he prompted as he fetched a glass from under the counter (instead of addressing what could very well have been something sharp and pointy). Despite his commented, Omens poured a little bit more carelessly than he usually would, just to fill the glass up a little faster.
“Here ya go.” He placed the glass on the bar, hand sliding over the money and drawing it back to him in one smooth motion.
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one thats gunna be hugging the toilet for the next week. some of that shit was expired.
a 260lb wild animal just ate all our food. is there some kinda general store out there? what do you people use as currency? glitter?
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“Whatever’s cheapest and nastiest.” She said, half distracted by trying to decide if the money she found with the blood on it was too bloody. She had to remember to get some kinda wallet, she thought, tossing it on the counter. She’d long ago figured out that nothing at all actually got her drunk, and wasting money on anything good was pointless. It was just a fancy way for fancy people to get drunk, in her opinion. If it did burn a hole in her throat, she’d be fine. She was pretty sure people had tried to ‘cut’ her drinks with actual turpentine. To save money, or kill her, or both.
“Pretty sure you just said...” she squinted and cocked her head just a touch like she was trying to be sure “you said money? Yeah? Ya left half the alphabet outta that so the fuck knows. Here’s a glittery hair tie just in case.”
Halfway through a pause that, almost certainly would have been followed by something unpleasant, someone knocked into her, enough to slide her forward on her seat (shed been off balance enough for her weight to shift). The hand that braced itself on the edge of the counter, in an instant, sprouted metal claws. They came fast, with a sound, metal and meaty. And were gone, back inside the hands again as quickly as they’d come out.
Jack took a quick look at the people next to her, mostly enjoying the scene and their friends, nobody had seemed to notice. The only thing that marked that they had been there was blood between her knuckles.
“Booze, cup.” she pushed the money at him, getting back on the stool. “You people wait for pre-tips or somethin?” Jack sounded just a bit more, rustled in her insults this time. The way she looked around now was less annoyed, more angry, maybe paranoid. Like she was just waiting for someone to say something, and she hoped she got her booze first.
all-jacked-up:
Jack stared at him for a very long time. Her face didn’t seem to convey anything but tired annoyance, but it still managed to express sarcasm through it.
In all reality, she was debating the merits of slashing through the bar, and whether it was worth getting tossed out of the only bar that would serve her in what seemed to be 3 entire zones. And then she’d leave with nothing but the after taste of Koolaid Man jizz. With an eye movement that looked like she was actually physically fighting an eyeroll, and just about lost, she blinked.
“Alcohol.” She said finally, like that was something that had to be specifically stated here. “You take money? Cause Im all outta glow sticks an’ acid…” She was pulling crumpled up bills from the city out of her pocket when she gave him a side glance and a once over. Making it obvious that she intended him to know she was looking at the tattoos.
“I think I got some glow in the dark star stickers in the car, though.”
No shit. “I figured that, sweets. Y’got a kind in mind?” He could always pour from the bottom shelf zone alk no one else seemed to be able to palate, see if she was content to just try to burn a hole in her throat, he supposed. But it was his job to ask.
“Ha ha.” Like Omens hadn’t heard that one before. “Cash ‘s th’ currency in most places. ‘s not any different here.” And he didn’t exactly appreciate the implication otherwise.
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Jack stared at him for a very long time. Her face didn’t seem to convey anything but tired annoyance, but it still managed to express sarcasm through it.
In all reality, she was debating the merits of slashing through the bar, and whether it was worth getting tossed out of the only bar that would serve her in what seemed to be 3 entire zones. And then she’d leave with nothing but the after taste of Koolaid Man jizz....Andhe hadnt mentioned any head-removal incidents, maybe this wasn’t one of the ones Bucky had destroyed her chances of getting booze at. With an eye movement that looked like she was actually physically fighting an eyeroll, and just about lost, she blinked.
“Alcohol.” She said finally, like that was something that had to be specifically stated here. “You take money? Cause Im all outta glow sticks an’ acid...” She was pulling crumpled up bills from the city out of her pocket when she gave him a side glance and a once over. Making it obvious that she intended him to know she was looking at the tattoos.
“I think I got some glow in the dark star stickers in the car, though.”
Zone fucking four, Jack thought. She’d driven miles to find a bar she hadn’t been banned from. She had left Bucky back at the bunker, she needed to attempt, and fail, to get drunk. The man didn’t do ‘crowds’. She loved a good bar fight, but his punches…well death usually got him banned.
Oh, good, it was Starfuck Boys bar. Her bike idled outside for while, while she contemplated going in.
Buck had definitely been banned from here. Although, in his defense, you don’t use the urinal right next to someone else when there’s other ones. Theres a rule about that, she was sure. He felt awkward. He pulled peoples heads off when that happened.
One bad 90s rave song and she’d start throwing punches, her always grumbling internal monologue said, as the bikes engine went silent, and she made it for the door.
At least she had the smallest advantage of not being spotted to quickly; half the people there had stupid colored hair. It always made her horrified that they thought she was like them. Good god though, she needed alcohol.
She bumped her way through the crowed, making the most effort she could to do the bumping. Generally, she wasn’t the one that stumbled. She had 221 pounds on her side.
The kid on the stool next to the empty one Jack slid into left in a huff when she snatched his near-finished drink and downed it, responding with a tired sneer. The bartender was taking too long to get there, and it had been a long ride.
She grimaced immediately, and looked at the glass like it was full of mold.
“The fuck was that!?” she yelled after the kid she took it from, who flipped her off. She missed him just by a bit when she chucked the glass. “If thats the taste yer lookin for, go blow the Koolaid Man!” she stopped yelling, trailing led off into grumbling when the kid disappeared in the crowed “fuckin….tainting perfectly good booze…Is this a self serve or does anyone pissing work here?” her voice picked up again…it always did.
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a 260lb wild animal just ate all our food. is there some kinda general store out there? what do you people use as currency? glitter?
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Zone fucking four, Jack thought. She'd driven miles to find a bar she hadn't been banned from. She had left Bucky back at the bunker, she needed to attempt, and fail, to get drunk. The man didn't do 'crowds'. She loved a good bar fight, but his punches...well death usually got him banned.
Oh, good, it was Starfuck Boys bar. Her bike idled outside for while, while she contemplated going in.
Buck had definitely been banned from here. Although, in his defense, you don't use the urinal right next to someone else when there's other ones. Theres a rule about that, she was sure. He felt awkward. He pulled peoples heads off when that happened.
One bad 90s rave song and she'd start throwing punches, her always grumbling internal monologue said, as the bikes engine went silent, and she made it for the door.
At least she had the smallest advantage of not being spotted to quickly; half the people there had stupid colored hair. It always made her horrified that they thought she was like them. Good god though, she needed alcohol.
She bumped her way through the crowed, making the most effort she could to do the bumping. Generally, she wasn't the one that stumbled. She had 221 pounds on her side.
The kid on the stool next to the empty one Jack slid into left in a huff when she snatched his near-finished drink and downed it, responding with a tired sneer. The bartender was taking too long to get there, and it had been a long ride.
She grimaced immediately, and looked at the glass like it was full of mold.
“The fuck was that!?” she yelled after the kid she took it from, who flipped her off. She missed him just by a bit when she chucked the glass. “If thats the taste yer lookin for, go blow the Koolaid Man!” she stopped yelling, trailing led off into grumbling when the kid disappeared in the crowed “fuckin....tainting perfectly good booze...Is this a self serve or does anyone pissing work here?” her voice picked up again...it always did.
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