Post by Tracie "Tracer" LeAnn Pearse on Aug 2, 2012 9:50:46 GMT -5
It was strange to be in civilian clothes again. Being surrounded by people became a little suffocating to someone accustomed to high vantage points, with yards between yourself an the nearest life form. Silence became more the way of life, alone with the natural rhythms of your own body, listening to your own breathing flowing in and out. It felt almost wrong to be in the midst of a group of people, even on a slow night like this. She should have been lying on a rooftop with the collar of her jacket raised against the wind, her eye to a scope, tracking something as it moved. There came a time when she wanted to be in the midst of people again, but she was always rigid around them, as if they were the very targets she followed through her scope… and some of them might have been that variety. If they weren’t familiar faces… she really didn’t trust them not to be, anymore. As if the world was only hunters, and vampires. Lycans didn’t really factor into the forefront of her fears, but she was aware of them nonetheless.
In terms of alcohol, she’d consumed very little. Actually, the lady working tonight had made her drink mostly Jack Daniels with far less Coca Cola than usual. She hadn’t even reached a halfway point in as small a glass as it was. Not even a buzz yet. It was hard not to be vigilant at all times. She didn’t trust herself alone here… or, rather, she didn‘t trust the faces she didn‘t know.. Basically all of them. Her muscles were tensed, ready to bolt, but she casually sat at the bar stool facing all the other patrons. She watched a game of pool between men, one of them heavily tattooed. She’d watch him when it was convenient to do so, when he wouldn’t look at her, picking out his tattoos. She didn’t want to engage in eye contact that would make him come any closer than he was.
She remembered a time when she could have ignored a crowd of people, sat in a classroom and focused on other things, other thoughts… but that was gone now. Now, she wondered what lurked beneath every surface.
It would have been nice to be able to get intoxicated, but her acute paranoia meant she wasn’t hailing a cab, not on her life… and the walk home would have been unbearable. She’d become nocturnal now, for all intents and purposes, and she couldn’t help coming out at night. There were always shadows in her new world. Always.
The lady behind the bar was nice… too nice. The blond was actually having difficulty dissuading a male customer. He was abrasive, possibly a bit too intoxicated or high… Abrasiveness was annoying. Very annoying. Especially in the posh English accent he had, which was rather odd for an American bar - it just seemed rather fake, whether it was or not. As a bit of time passed, and the flirtation graduated in vulgarness, Tracer finally looked dead-on at the man. Lycan, vampire, prick, didn’t really matter.
”Dude. Her willingness to talk to you doesn‘t indicate a desire to fuck you. It‘s her job.” It was quiet, steady, and she met his gaze dead-on when he looked at her. He had his eyebrows furrowed, taking a moment to process what she’d said. He didn’t really look annoyed… but did change focus.
“And who might you be? I‘ve never seen you here before.“
He was much louder than the tracker in retort.
”My willingness to fuck you wouldn‘t indicate a desire to talk to you. If it existed.”
With that, she disengaged, and blatantly ignored him until he peeled away to go after another female patron. Apparently he didn’t discourage or take offense easily, and someone would eventually be just the right combination of drunk and/or stupid.
In terms of alcohol, she’d consumed very little. Actually, the lady working tonight had made her drink mostly Jack Daniels with far less Coca Cola than usual. She hadn’t even reached a halfway point in as small a glass as it was. Not even a buzz yet. It was hard not to be vigilant at all times. She didn’t trust herself alone here… or, rather, she didn‘t trust the faces she didn‘t know.. Basically all of them. Her muscles were tensed, ready to bolt, but she casually sat at the bar stool facing all the other patrons. She watched a game of pool between men, one of them heavily tattooed. She’d watch him when it was convenient to do so, when he wouldn’t look at her, picking out his tattoos. She didn’t want to engage in eye contact that would make him come any closer than he was.
She remembered a time when she could have ignored a crowd of people, sat in a classroom and focused on other things, other thoughts… but that was gone now. Now, she wondered what lurked beneath every surface.
It would have been nice to be able to get intoxicated, but her acute paranoia meant she wasn’t hailing a cab, not on her life… and the walk home would have been unbearable. She’d become nocturnal now, for all intents and purposes, and she couldn’t help coming out at night. There were always shadows in her new world. Always.
The lady behind the bar was nice… too nice. The blond was actually having difficulty dissuading a male customer. He was abrasive, possibly a bit too intoxicated or high… Abrasiveness was annoying. Very annoying. Especially in the posh English accent he had, which was rather odd for an American bar - it just seemed rather fake, whether it was or not. As a bit of time passed, and the flirtation graduated in vulgarness, Tracer finally looked dead-on at the man. Lycan, vampire, prick, didn’t really matter.
”Dude. Her willingness to talk to you doesn‘t indicate a desire to fuck you. It‘s her job.” It was quiet, steady, and she met his gaze dead-on when he looked at her. He had his eyebrows furrowed, taking a moment to process what she’d said. He didn’t really look annoyed… but did change focus.
“And who might you be? I‘ve never seen you here before.“
He was much louder than the tracker in retort.
”My willingness to fuck you wouldn‘t indicate a desire to talk to you. If it existed.”
With that, she disengaged, and blatantly ignored him until he peeled away to go after another female patron. Apparently he didn’t discourage or take offense easily, and someone would eventually be just the right combination of drunk and/or stupid.
