Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 23, 2006 10:47:55 GMT -5
[[ehhem... -clears throat- the point of this thread is to get EVERYONE involved and cause serious dramatic issues. so post! thank you -begins-]]
Most people, after working a 14 hour shift would be too exhausted to do anything other than go home and crash on their pillows. Most people would wake up the next morning, and follow the same boring routine. Most people, weren't Carrie Martin. In fact, there is only one Carrie Martin with the perfect combination of spark, stamina, and spontinaity to leave work with more energy than she left it. Only one who was crazy enough to slip into a pair of skinny jeans, green polka dot pumps, and a little green "Kiss Me, I'm Not Irish but still Damn Cute" t-shirt of Aimee's (which was a risk all in itself) and look like she was from Hollywood, not in a hospital, elbow deep in infection and disease. The Bar wasn't meant for flashy outfits, it was a more subtle thing. A wear what you like. Besides, Carrie liked dressing down. The only Carrie Martin whose blonde curls needed no pulling or teasing to look adorable, and who tonight, only wore enough mascara to make her eyes really pop and still look amazing. The one and the same Carrie Martin who worked at St. Mungo's, and therefore partied at The Bar after work.
In fact, ask anyone around, it was Carrie and her favorite accomplice Aimee who founded The Bar in all its glory. They made it was it was, in an essence. The ultimate party. A swinging hang out. Shift after shift they would dance, seduce, and drink to their hearts content, until you couldn't tell where Carrie ended and Aimee began. It was a magical thing, that happened without the use of wands or spells, but instead, was cast by the auro of fun and crazy expections that they had brought to it. Carrie could practically see the tea lights dancing before her eyes as she twirled in front of the vanity she had goaded Aimee into buying with her, before grabbing her favorite tiny black purse and exiting the flat in a haze of perfume and essence a la Carrie.
And while walking to The Bar was such a trivial thing, so very, 'muggle-esque' Carrie enjoyed it, and chose not to apparate over like every other over zealous fool who would be buzzing to come to The Bar. With in the hour that Aimee and Carrie had set the date to hit The Bar like 'old times', the entire hospital had found out and was sure to be packed. Darcy had found out with in the minute, and from there it spread like wild fire. A pleasent, teasing smile traced Carrie's lips as she approached it, and her body was humming with anticipation. It wasn't the drinking or even the partying that made her molecules sing. No, it was more that this was where Carrie belonged. Her life was a freaking blur of events, all controlled by fate, of course, that all added up to moments like these. Pure ecstacy. She had already decided to deny no one tonight, for who was she to say no? All the men who worked at St. Mungo's were attractive enough, and sure to grant her a good time. And if they didn't, she'd make her own fun. Something she was famous for.
Pushing the double doors open with emphasis, she looked around and put on her fiercest pout. She had left on time, taken the long route, and yet she still managed to be the first one there, from the hospital, at least. Other men and women milled around her, dancing closely and drinking until their beer bellies hung out. Slinking over to the bar, she refused to sit down, but instead leaned over the wooden bar and smiled at Sam, the ever cheerful and all-knowing bar tender. He smiled back. Oh, if he wasn't a muggle...she smiled wistfully, waving her fingers at him.
"Hey Sam!"
Carrie's cheerfullness leeked out of her, flooding every direction. It was contagious, apparently, because Sam sideled over to her, leaning on his side of the bar, towel draped on his shoulder and gave her the biggest smile; which was something to take notice of. Bar tenders weren't exactly notorious for their smiles and cheerfulness. No, they were more of the Go-To guy. Go-to him for drinks, for advice, and for money for the cab ride home. But Sam always said when Carrie was around, she brought it out in him. If Carrie had been one to blush, she would have.
"Big party tonight, princess?"
He nudged her arm, before leaning down to get her a glass of her favorite drink. A shirley temple. With a cherry in it. Actually, no matter what drink it was it was her favorite, so long as it had a cherry in it. She nodded, her blonde curls falling over her shoulder. He was about to hand it to her when she started another pout, being the queen of faces and all, and he stepped back with a playfull sigh, moving a few feet down the bar, and sliding her drink across the counter top, just like in old western films. She caught it with a little squeal, and some of her drink splashed out over the rim, spilling on her hand. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she sucked off the sweet tasting liquid and smiled at him.
"Now that's not fair, princess. What do I get in return for making your day with western moves like that?"
He was messing with her.
"Oh, but it is fair! The fairest of fair! The Snow White of fairs! You get to watch me dance, now!"
She smiled, sauntering off in the direction of the jukebox. Sam had a small stage in the back, which no band had ever played on. It was all for show. Occasionally he got a DJ, but rarely. Carrie liked the simplicity of the bar. Less va-va-voom and more comfort. Carrie closed her eyes, randomly selecting a number on the muggle music maker, letting fate once again have a hand in her life. Sure enough, it was good dancing music. The title read 'No Sleep Tonight' by The Faders. Carrie had no idea who they were, but she liked the title and the fast passed music which now sung around the bar. She danced her way through the small crowd forming, her drink held high above her head to avoid spillage, and stopped once she hit the stage. Only Carrie, right? Stepping up onto the small raised platform, she smiled coyly, looking around at the few St. Mungo's employee who had shown up. She tapped the mircophone to make sure it was working, before pressing her perfectly poutable lips onto it.
"I haven't started drinking yet tonight," she said, gesturing to the still full glass "But if no one gets up here to dance with me I just might have to."
She pout on her cutest pout, swaying her hips in time with the music. Only Carrie Martin.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Post by Tatum MacNamara on Aug 23, 2006 12:15:58 GMT -5
Tatum MacNamara came from a place where drinking was best left to professionals. The village that had cradled her in her formative years had only one pub, and apart from the occasional over zealous rendition of 'Danny Boy' or the spill over of fiddles from someone's wedding revelries, it never had music. The pub had been the heart and soul of the town, the place the residents, most of whom made their livliehood upon the sea congregated, swapped stories, caught up on current events. She hadn't visited the place in years, but she was certain that if some strange urge did ever draw her home, the pub would be the first place she would visit.
Growing up as a makeshift deckhand upon her father's ship, there had been a bar at every port, and for the most part, they were variations of the dark wood and low lighting of the bar in Bantry Bay. All that varied was the language spoken by the bartender and the currency exchanged for the beverages. In many ways, though she has seen so much of the world, Tatum felt she had really only ever been one place. But fortunately all of those places had beer.
Tonight, however, the Irish lady was drinking martinis. Straight up and dirty with a few olives tossed in for nutrition of course. She had always heard olives were high in . . . something. When she had first come to London and began coming to 'civilized people's' bars, she had discovered the drink, and now preferred it most of the time because it only took a small number of them to bring about a pleasant haze of inebriation that was so critical for the times she lived in. She had just ordered another when a woman whose t-shirt made both her eyebrows raise climbed onto the stage.
The witch worked from Mungo's. Tatum recognized her easily enough and had always fancied her to be the kind of woman everyone knew at first glance even if only by aura and reputation. The Irish witch, by contrast, was the sort one grew to know. Where the blonde wore her good time Jane persona on her sleeve, Tatum kept hers tucked in a pocket for special occasions. But when she let it out . . . Merlin have mercy.
There was a moment's contemplation about whether or not to join. Tatum rarely came to this bar, particularly because most nights she simply wished to drown herself in drink amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces, but tonight she had resolved to go and see how her colleagues and friends from work spent their free time. And she certainly wasn't going to do that by hanging about on the proverbial sidelines, now was she?
"Hold off on the next round please," she smiled to the bartender. "I've had enough already te make an arse o'meself."
That said, she began toward the stage, letting the upbeat tempo bring a sway into her narrow hips. By the time she ascended the stairs that led to it, she was of the opinion that this was the most brilliant idea she had ever had. And so her black booted feet planted next to Carrie, she smirked a hello.
"Consider me at yer service. Part o'a public service te combat alcoholism, if ye will." She gave the witch a little wink and then turned away slightly, letting the music take over as her own inner good time Jane poked a pair of mishevious eyes out of the back pocket of her flared jeans.
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Sean Andrews
New Member
Healer-in-Charge
Whatever gets you through the night
Posts: 46
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Post by Sean Andrews on Aug 24, 2006 0:13:06 GMT -5
Sean wasn’t a cheap drunk, an easy drunk, or a drunk, but he was drunk. Or at least half drunk, on his way to becoming rip roaring what-the-hell-did-I-do-last-night-drunk. Sean loved drinking, loved every aspect of partying, and the bar scene. He could quite often be seen down in ‘The Bar’ or in any muggle bar having a good time. He also quite often drank to much, and by often read almost every time he went out. Ah well, bad habits die hard.
When the word that Carrie and Aimee, and therefore the whole hospital, were to be hitting the bar Sean’s first thought on the subject was, Yes. Then he realised what he would be getting into. It meant a night, at the bar, drinking and dancing, getting all sweaty, and not being able to touch or be with Aimee, in fact barely being able to talk to her. Better off to stay home with the wife. Which was just what he had planned to do, he had even brought Cassandra a bottle of her favourite wine home. He had planned for a perfect evening. What he didn’t plan for was Cassandra being in one of her moods. From the moment Sean stepped into the door he could feel the ice coming from his wife. Dinner was a silent affair, Cassandra barely drinking her wine, Sean on the other hand downed 3 classes before Cassandra left the table for her study.
He then made up his mind that he was going out to ‘The Bar’ tonight. Wife or no wife. Whether he was going to be able to be with Aimee or not, it didn’t matter. It was time to go out and get completely fucked out of his face. He showered and dress quickly, in jeans and a plain black dress shirt left half open with a black tee poking out under it, then peeked into Cassandra’s study to ask if her if she’d like to join him, though he already knew the answer. “No Sean. I have work to do, and I’d like to look at least half alive tomorrow morning. You can go with you want. I wont be waiting up for you though” He nodded and ducked out of the room , exhaling. The tension between them was getting unbearable. It was nothing like the wonderful sexual tension he and Aimee shared. This was the soul sucking, oxygen stealing tension.
When Sean entered the pub he was already on his 6th fag in 20 minutes. He was there early far to early. In fact the pub was barely filling up for the night, and there was no from the hospital in sight. But that didn’t stop Sean. He made his up to the bar, and started his night by downing 3 whiskey shots in a row, before ordering a double of rye and coke. He lit anther smoke from the still lit cigarette, the tenseness of his failing marriage was getting to him tonight, not that chain smoking had anything to do with that, that was just Sean per usual.
He use to think that maybe if he tried harder, and if Cassandra tried less, lightened up a bit, that maybe they could save their marriage, but with each passing day, it seemed less and less likely to happen. The honeymoon was very over, those days nothing more the memories that Sean was revisiting less and less. Aimee filled Sean’s thoughts more each day they had together, and during the days they had together he was happy. Sean was seemingly becoming an unhappy man, something that he had never really been before. He was once a carefree young lad, still an asshole, but generally happy. His job invoked a sense of pride, and purpose in his life. His marriage to Cassandra was playful, and full of joy, being newly weds was wonderful. It was spend trying to please the other, the little things that made each other happy.
Sean set down his drink, motioning to the bartender to fill it yet again.
”You should slow down fella, your gonna be sleeping before the party starts”
“Whatever. Just keep the glass full”
Sean half slurred his words though, surprise!, a fag. He waited until his drink was filled before leaving the bar stool, and venturing into the men’s bathroom. He could feel himself on his way to becoming intoxicated, but he was quite there yet. He entered the bathroom, and was greeted by the great big cloud of pot smoke. He laughed to himself, out loud, mind you, and proceeded to urinate fag in mouth and drink in hand. Classy. After finishing what he had to do, and washing up in all that, he walked down to the stall were the smoke was coming from. A bunch of guys were all crowded into the stall, sharing a large joint. They appeared to be about 10 years younger then Sean, but one with shift looking eyes spoke.
”You want some? It’s muggle grown, and outta this fucking world man.”
“Fucking top.”
Sean laughed, but took the offered joint, inhaling deeply, feeling the sick sweet smoke furl down into his chest, and lungs. He stayed in the bathroom until the smoke had been passed around a good 3-4 times. They he stood, laughed again at the boys, and left the men’s room, draining his glass as he went.
Back into the bar, he could see he had disappeared to the bathroom for longer then he thought, as it was quite full, and he recognised many face from the hospital there. One of those being Carrie Martin. Oh fucking joy. Just what he needed, oh well maybe it would be different here out of the work environment, highly doubtful but possible. The other face he spotted in the crowd, was none other then Tatum. At least now he wouldn’t be alone in his drinking binge tonight whether Aimee showed or not. He was about to make his way over to Tatum, after a quick pit stop at the bar, when he saw her going over to Carrie. Fuck, now that meant he had to acknowledge her.
He had his way over to the two dancing girls, the dancing area was slowly filling up as everyone filled themselves up with booze. Sean smile like a mischievous little boy at the girls, running a hand though his hair. He was fully aware, that he smelt like cigarettes, booze, and now pot, and yet he wasn’t aware, didn’t really care.
“Hey Tatty! You look top!” He shouted above the music. Then acknowledging Carrie.
“Hey Martin.”
See he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Ok he was, but you know, he was half drunk.
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 24, 2006 3:20:09 GMT -5
-PokesMol- Shall reply here also lovely. And Carrie and Aimee can dance! Woot.
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 24, 2006 6:57:19 GMT -5
The first time Aimee had drunk alcohol she was thirteen and had spent the remainder of the evening opening and closing the fridge to fits of her own giggles. It was over the years she built her immunity, becoming more and more used to the taste in her mouth that she had once coughed and spluttered at as it burnt the back of her throat going down. Alcohol had never been a big issue in the Kensington family home. In fact it had been so readily available to them growing up, none of the children had ever felt remotely uneasy when they asked for their parents to buy them some for the upcoming party. Lydia’s parents were owners of a vineyard. They lived and breathed wine for an early age but the temptation had never struck Aimee until later high school when all of a sudden life had gone from dolls to boys and alcohol was your ticket to another world. But even then it hadn’t been wine.
When Gen’s boyfriend of a year had left her broken hearted the three older girls had shared a bottle of vodka as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was there, that Gen had found comfort, the door of another dimension opening to her where she could laugh without reason, where Aimee and Charlotte would laugh with her. In that sense it was hard to believe that alcohol was a depressant but the after effects that plagued the three the next morning were enough to discourage any more late night drinking games, for a while at least.
Now several years older than thirteen, and well past the giggle games of high school Aimee fancied straight spirits over pre-mixed drinks. She could drown Cruiser after Cruiser all night and feel no effects but give her a bottle of vodka or tequila and watch the pretty girl dance.
The instant Aimee pushed The Bar door open she was charged at by memories.
Dancing with Carrie, swaying hips, warm breath, slurred words, the tempo beat drowning out the sounds, the cheers. They’d never been shy at The Bar, there was simply no need when you looked the way Aimee and Carrie did, when you moved the way Aimee and Carrie did and when you got the male response Aimee and Carrie did. They’d drink and drink until their fingers weren’t connected to their brain leaving them unable to pick up the shot glass, the bottle, the alcohol.
When Aimee drank she felt lighter, free as through the chains that held her to reality at ground level had been unclipped allowing her to soar to the sky. When Aimee drank she could forget. In this alternate universe there was no bad, no accident, no judgement, no failure. She was whole, complete and she laughed as though the world could end the day after and she’d die happier than she’d ever been. That was what she was looking for tonight. Aimee knew there would be people from work, she knew that there would be consequences and regrets and a pounding headache the day after. And Aimee knew she had responsibilities to tend to tomorrow but right now, tonight she didn’t care. She truly needed this, to feel so different from the girl she now was, to step into that other world and dance and drink and forget.
Tonight she had dressed for fun, for action, for success. Her hair free in loose brown waves, her eyes darkened by mascara. She wore her dark blue top that dipped in a V to her cleavage over skinny legs after having spent over twenty minutes searching for her green Irish shirt and concluding that she must have forgotten to wash it. Though she could have sworn she’d only washed it the day previous.
It wasn’t until she entered The Bar and caught a glimpse of Carrie on the stage that she realised that perhaps she’d been right all along.
The music thumped an endless beat, words churned in the crevices of the instrumental, weaving and humming, dipping and sliding amongst the beat of the drum and the twang of the guitar. The consistency in the music was a comfort for those who found their surroundings alter from familiar to a wonderland over the progression of the night, or rather the digestion of alcohol. With every glass everything looked just that little bit brighter, illuminated by a brilliance entirely its own. With everyone in her range of sight, bearing a smile so large, it was hard to believe that alcohol was a depressant. But from experience Aimee knew not to be fooled.
Moving to the bar and smiling widely at Sam she nodded as he put down two shots of vodka in front of them. In an instant they were gone and so was she, with a friendly wave and smile, moving towards the platform where Carrie had been joined by another woman, someone she recognised as staff. Weaving between bodies she moved her hips to the beat, taking the long route between male bodies, pressed between them, the smell of alcohol close to her ear. Aimee laughed as she finally climbed onto the stage, and came up behind her Carrie.
Her mouth reached to Carrie’s ear, from behind and a smile stretched across her face.
“Dance with me.”
Her hips were already swaying, moving to the beat, her body close to Carrie’s from behind like it was only natural, sexual. She could smell the alcohol, the sweat, the foolish. And then she could see, over Carrie’s shoulder to the other woman she recognised from rounds at St Mungo’s, they’d finally met that day with proper introductions. She flashed her a smile and her eyes drifted once more to a man. It was him. Sean. Mouth open slightly she shot him a daring glance, her head felt already slightly lighter and she craved that burning sensation.
Just another drink, another moment, another breath. Anything to keep this moment lasting.
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Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 24, 2006 8:00:50 GMT -5
awwww...these are some lovely posts -snicks- shall I go or hold out for others? -tilts-
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 24, 2006 8:04:45 GMT -5
GO. GO. GO. GO. Others can jump in whenever they want. -Snugs-
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Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 24, 2006 11:30:42 GMT -5
Carrie loved to dance. It was a second nature, at this point. Almost all of her movements, the way she walked, the way she moved her hands, was all a languid thing which resembled something like dancing. She loved getting wrapped up in the music, spinning and spinning, but still in control. When she waved her hips, she kept the glass of alcohol over her head, still not having taken a sip. It was weird, how she didn't even need alcohol anymore to get that buzz. And oh, how delightful that buzz was. She was laughing, enjoying the attention as several pairs of eyes bore into her, on lookers watching in facsination and wonder. She had that affect on people. Her eyes were closed as another dance-happy girl sidled up next to her, and when she opened her eyes she wasn't alone. She recognized the girl from St. Mungos and smiled, before remembering what shirt she was wearing. The girl seemed to have the same thought, and they shared a laugh, complete strangers, but it didn't matter. They were at The Bar, nothing mattered. "Yes, alcoholism, would be bad!" She said above the loud music that still played on, and snickered, taking her first sip of the Shirley Temple and smiling as the sweet liquid filled her mouth. Using her other hand, she fished the cherry out an popped it in her mouth. She turnedm waving to Sam at the bar, the cherry stem sticking out of her teeth. He laughed and waved back, knowing that she would be back for more cherries before the night was over. In fact, she was just about to jump off the stage in her quest for more cherry shaped happiness when she felt a hand on her back and an all too familiar voice. Aimee! Wow, she had actually shown up. She immidiatly felt remorse for thinking her best friend would blow her off. Bad habits die hard, and all that melarky. She smiled a smile that lit up the room, and spun around, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course, lovely. Your my preferred dancing partner, anyway."
She dipped and turned so she was in time with her best friend, like siamese twins they moved, enticing and seducing anyone who was watching. She could only imagine how it must look to an outsider, what with Aimee's dark locks and Carrie's bright blonde ones, their bodies practically entwined as they danced in a way only best friends would. She laughed as the Jukebox switched songs, some muggle thing she didn't recognize, but it had a nice beat. A slower one. She relaxed her muscles a bit, swaying her hips a bit more loosly, letting her gaurd down. Which was a mistake, of course, because now Sean Andrews had arrived. If the music had still been blaring and she had still been lost in her Aimee-Carrie routine, she wouldn't have heard him, wouldn't have even noticed him. The funny thing was, she didn't care. Her face didn't falter, and she didn't lose beat. She did notice the look Aimee was giving him, briefly, before it flitted away and Aimee continued on ignoring him. Carrie ignored the look, taking it for nothing, before positioning herself to get a better look at Sean. It was weird seeing the Healer-in-Charge out and about outside hospital walls. Awkward. He seemed to out of place, like he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Aw, hey Sean! Aren't you happy to see me?"
She smirked slightly, refusing to be put off by him tonight. Save the drama for the work environment, tonight she was going to have fun and not let some little rain cloud named Sean Andrews put out her ever shining light. She wrinkled her nose at him, taking another swig of her Shirley Temple. Almost gone. She pouted a bit, but wasn't feeling quite ready to leave the stage and her lime light to get another drink. The familiar glow was beginning to surround her and she howled a bit in delight. It didn't take much to get Carrie drunk, because she was such a tiny person, and because she was so willing. She liked how the layers disappeared when things got hazy. And maybe Sean look nicer when she was drunk, instead of his usual 'stick-up-my-butt' demeanor. It would take more than a Shirley Temple to acheive that, of course, and until then she was high on life, and loving every second of it.
"Aims! This is uh..."
She gestured to the girl next to her, who was still nameless. Oops. She giggled a little, grabbing Aimee's hand and using it to spin herself closer to the mystery Irish girl.
"Whats your name?"
Carrie wheeled around again, and Sean was still standing there, even more awkwardly than before. He was doing some weird shuffling thing that was to be mistaken for dancing. She stiffled her laughter, polishing off her drink, so as to give herself some reason for what she was about to do. Carrie could be a little crazy...ok, a lot crazy, and was known to be reckless. And what she was about to do was as reckless as things got. She was going into the lions den. Sighing exasperatedly, she beckoned to Sean and pulled him up onto the stage. He already seemed to know the other girl, so it wasn't as awkward as she would have guessed.
"Ok, Mr. Grumpy Gills, dance with us. I can't stand to watch you do that awkward shuffle thing all by yourself for one more second. Here. Dance with them, I'm going to get more to drink."
Shoving him closer to the Irish girl and Aimee, she hopped off the stage, menuvering around the many dancing bodies. Sam already had a shot glass out for her to down, and she did. When she had reached the bottom of the glass, she felt something bump her nose. Opening her eyes, she realized he had stuck a cherry in the bottom. She laughed, throwing her head back, and smiling, before taking off back to the dance floor. She had only gotten a few steps before an extremely good looking muggle grabbed her arm, beckoning her to dance. She raised her eyebrows, grabbing him around the neck and dancing about thirty seconds with him before taking off, afraid to let anyone be alone with Sean Andrews too along without getting eaten alive. Her blonde curls bounced as she made it back to the stage, and squealed happily as two guys pulled her up. The Bar. Such fond memories. She swayed her hips, dipping low, grabbing Aimee's arm from behind and wheeling her around to dance again.
"See? I can play nice."
She said, referring to how she had invited Sean to dance with them. She didn't know if it would last the whole night, but it was worth a shot.
[[meh...kind of random post]]
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Post by Jack Bowler on Aug 24, 2006 14:07:40 GMT -5
Fresh off from his shift at work Jack lingered in the men’s locker room taking the time to shower and get dressed. Word had gone around through the healers that some were meeting at the bar after work for a little bit. After some coercing by one or two he’d agreed to make an appearance. Jack wasn’t much of a drinker in that he rarely allowed himself to get to the point of being labeled as drunk. A drink or two were enough for him to fit into the scene. And by the time anyone noticed him still holding a familiar glass they were already too drunk to care. Or remember.
He made his way down the cobbled walkway of the hospital and out onto the paved sidewalk in London. He wound drunkenly through the crowd of people without the help of alcohol thanks to the sheer number of them swarming at rush hour. The bar stood off not far from where he crossed the street. Several patrons dipped inside before he reached the door and pulled it open to slip inside.
He paused at the entryway glancing around for anyone he might recognize but from his spot there were too many faces for him to examine. He made his way to Sam at the bar and leaned against the counter until the man saw him and came over.
“Well now this is an honor,” he boasted polishing a glass dry with a stained cloth. Jack grinned leaning more on the counter.
“Honor… curse. I’ll let you decide once more before the night’s over pal,” he said in his friendly tone. “How about one of those house special drinks you cook up for me so well?”
Sam nodded grabbing a glass off the ceiling rack an turning towards several shelves stacked with alcoholic bottles. While Sam worked, Jack’s gaze moved along the crowd looking for familiar faces. Eventually he found several up on the dance floor clustered around one another.
“Here you go.”
He turned back to Sam and took the drink laying down a coin to pay for it. “Much obliged,” he commented turning slightly to face more of the crowd. He raised is glass to his mouth watching the others around him.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Post by Tatum MacNamara on Aug 24, 2006 19:01:02 GMT -5
"Yes, alcoholism, would be bad!"
If Tatum had been staring too long at Carrie's shirt it was the fault of the martinis. There was something very odd about those abroad and the love of St. Pattys Day and all things Irish. Not that it bothered her, but it certainly did make her laugh, particularly when it seemed she and Carrie shared a thought about it.
Always being the friendly, outgoing sort, she was poised to interrupt herself when Sean appeared beside her, reeking of chemicals both legal and otherwise. She took his compliment with a grain of salt, thinking that more than likely he would tell the girl in the corner with the lipstick on her teeth and those odd orange leg warmers the same thing.
"I can smell, er see, yer evenin's well underway," she greeted him with a smirk, moving a bit closer so she wouldn't have to shout too loudly. "An I'm assumin we're good enough mates that if ye had anythin fun left in yer pocket, ye'd share. Aye?" Giving him a playful prod with her elbow, she turned back, nearly missing Carrie's question.
"It's Tatum," she nodded, figuring with the music at full volume and the distraction of the new arrival, the Aimee she had finally found a face to put with . . . the reputation, that the name probably didn't register at all. Not that it mattered a great deal; she hadn't asked for Carrie's at all. And then the witch had slipped away and Tatum's eyes shifted from Sean to Aimee subtely.
Spying a familiar face amongst the throng of patrons in the bar, she looked back up at Sean once more. "Ye stay right where y'are, what did she call ye, grumpy arse?, I need te see about another drink."
And without awaiting a reply, she slipped from the stage, navigating through the crowd, but not to reach the bar as, naturally, that had been a clever ruse. Well, not so clever, perhaps as Sean was standing right there and could easily see that another martini was not what she sought.
The object of her pursuit happened to be a wizard, one she had met briefly the day before when her choice of footwear had been less wise than the simple black boots she wore on this particular evening. Sidling up beside him, Tatum smiled brightly.
"I saw ye from the stage," she pointed subtely to where Carrie had just retrurned, "an just wanted te come over an see if ye wanted te dance." Her smile grew more teasing, "If it's ni fun, I'll just break another heal. That'll be good fer at least a bit o'entertainment, aye?" And then as if the decision was made, she reached a hand forhis free one and gave him a gentle tug toward the stage.
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Sean Andrews
New Member
Healer-in-Charge
Whatever gets you through the night
Posts: 46
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Post by Sean Andrews on Aug 25, 2006 0:11:03 GMT -5
You know that feeling when you ate too fast, and still felt hungry, but after a few minutes realised that you were bursting full. It seemed Sean was having that effect with his booze. The fresh drink he had picked up before walking over to the stage was gone. And a few of the new young trainees on his floor had randomly showed up and had brought him a few shots over, as a way of sucking up. It worked, the shots I mean. Sean could feel his head swimming, and that blissful state of drunkenness washed over him. It was now official, Sean Andrew’s was fucked. Top the large amount of booze that he had just consumed with the slight high from the pot, he was fucked out of his face. He shouted to one of the trainees at the bar.
“Hey you! Rogers. Bring me another drink. Make it a double, wait wait, triple.”
"Aw, hey Sean! Aren't you happy to see me?"
He managed a smile at Carrie. She seemed like less of a bitch when he was drunk, and when he was little drunk herself.
“Carrie I’m overjoyed to see you.”
Whatever tonight he could put differences aside. Just for tonight. Just because he was drunk. His word’s were already beginning to slur, but shouted helped hide that fact. He smirked at Tatum’s remark.
"I can smell, er see, yer evenin's well underway,"
“Tatty! Tatty! I think I’m drunk.” He paused for a second, to think about it. “And maybe a little high.”
"An I'm assumin we're good enough mates that if ye had anythin fun left in yer pocket, ye'd share. Aye?"
He snorted into his fag.
“Unless your willing to venture into the men’s room your out of luck my dear. It wasn’t mine”
The trainee actually showed up with his drink. Sean laughed, slapped him on the back and drained in one swift chug. As he wiped his mouth, he saw Aimee entered the bar out of the corner of the bar. He said nothing, simply watched as she made her way to the bar, downed her shots, and danced her way to the bar. Watching her walk/dance her way through guys didn’t make him jealous, instead it made him wish he could do the same with her. How he longed to have a normal night out with her, to not have to worry about getting caught.
Sean’s stupid shuffle was his way of saying, I’m very drunk and can’t dance unless it’s sexual grinding and whatnot against some female(s). Apparently it worked. He nodded and smiled to Carrie as she pulled him up on to the stage, and passed by him. He was as good as alone with Aimee. Tatum knew, and didn’t care, he started to dance against the two women, not really touching either trying to stay away from Aimee as much as he could.
”…what did she call ye, grumpy arse?, I need te see about another drink”
“I’m grumpy because I’m an asssssssssssholllllllllleeeeeeeee. TATTY GET ME ONE TOO!”
And then Tatum was gone. Now he was really alone with Aimee. He was still trying to nonchalant, doing his thing, smoking, whatever. But then he caught the look that Aimee gave him, and that was it. He was so drunk, he didn’t care anymore. He would dance with her. Dancing wasn’t a crime, it wasn’t cheating, it was dancing. If Cassandra found out he might be in shit, but they would fight, ignore each other for a while, and then have makeup sex, and then go about their lives.
He stepped towards her, placing his hands on her hips, finding that spot were her hips bones were. He guided her until there bodies were connected, her back against his chest. He put his chin on her shoulder and whisper shouted into her ear, knowingly holding his lit fag away from her face, not that he mattered the smell of smoke was always on his skin, but tonight it was mixed with pot smoke, booze, and sweat.
“I want this”
That was all he could manage to say. He was so drunk, so high, so completely fucked. But so happy. Happy to be at this bar, ‘The Bar’, dancing with Aimee. Having good times with good mates, drinking, drunk actually. He wasn’t even thinking about work, or Cassandra or anything. Just this, now. He leaned down again, planting a quick kiss on her cheek, after checking to make sure the coast was clear. He loved dancing with her, feeling their bodies connected, moving, grinding together against the beat of the music.
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Post by Jack Bowler on Aug 25, 2006 14:56:11 GMT -5
The music’s volume turned up a notch as the hour refreshed itself. Jack lingered near the bar giving a friendly nod and smile to those who walked by and acknowledged him. There were quite a few in here tonight that he didn’t recognize. But some he did. There were a few that he hadn’t any interested in associating with either in work or outside of. The select few who fell into that category knew who they were. Bat Jack was never rude. If he were to come face to face with them he would be polite as always. Respectful as long as it was given back to him as well.
A familiar face became apparent in the crowd as he raised his glass to his mouth and took a drink. They’d met the other night here in fact when she’d had an incident with her shoe. The conversation had been nice and he’d gone back to his apartment that night with the knowledge that he had made a friend to some degree.
He smiled warmly as she slid up beside him, the glass lowering from his lips as he gave her a curious glance.
"I saw ye from the stage," she pointed subtely to where Carrie had just retrurned, "an just wanted te come over an see if ye wanted te dance."
He glanced towards the stage to see a number of his coworkers. He took a quick drink and looked back to her.
Her smile grew more teasing, "If it's no fun, I'll just break another heal. That'll be good fer at least a bit o'entertainment, aye?"
Before he could protest either way she was pulling him out onto the dance floor. He had barely any time at all to set his glass down on a nearby table as he wove in and around people and tables as she led him.
“Ya know know I’m equipped with two left feet.”
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 25, 2006 21:02:59 GMT -5
To Aimee family was everything. It was more than a name, a bloodline, a loyalty, an inheritance. Aimee had grown up in a house where discipline walked hand in hand with support. Her parents ruled them fairly, justly, with love but with boundaries. They weren’t the perfect example of a functional family but they weren’t the one you found in the gutter where the daughters were sold on the street for ends meat and the father wasted every dollar made on alcohol. They were exactly what Aimee needed when she needed it, drawing the line and giving her enough independence to thrive. They’d done it twice before her and once again after her, Lydia and James indeed knew how to raise children and raise them well.
They’d raised her right from the start with a moral code. There were certain things in life that were bad, wrong and when you did them and were told NO and did them again just for ‘kicks’ you were punished. Likewise if you did good things you reaped the benefits. Aimee had known since a young age that there were things that mummy’s and daddy’s did like kiss and hug and hold hands. So how she’d gotten to where she was, was still unsure.
At what point in our lives do we decide our future? Do we meet a stake in the road, choose a path and spiral off in that direction? How is it that some people succeed and others fail? What sets the winners apart from the losers? And who decides which team everyone will bat for? Who decided a person’s fate?
In a blur of alcohol and a vodka cloud Aimee had accepted a drink from a tray of shots trust at her upon the stage. Drowning it and two others after she’d placed each glass down feeling a little lighter and a little less concerned. Her and Carrie danced like twins, the way only sisters could who knew every inch of the others body, every inch of their soul. Their bodies connected, swayed, moved like one so rhythmically, sexually that roars from the crowd rose over the music. This was the world that Aimee knew. Her and Carrie dancing, drinking, smiling wide and uncaring. Already her eyes felt hazy and there was a slight stumble in her step but she knew how to look after herself like this. She hadn’t spent all those years in practise to fuck up the real thing. The music switched to something of a slower beat and in a moment both girls were swaying slower hips. In the absence of fast music Aimee realised how much thoughts had been blocked from her head. She wanted the beat, the speed, the chase, the vigour. And him. All the while she rocked her body, swayed his hips close to Carrie, breathing in her shampoo, her deodorant, the Shirley Temple on her breath she wanted to be closer to him, to dance with him up and close, to breath in his smell of cigarettes, alcohol, sex and mystery. She could smell his secret on him even from this distance, and over Carrie’s shoulder she could see him.
Aimee was thankful when Carrie moved to better position, placing Aimee’s back to Sean. If she couldn’t see him she could ignore the want flooding her body, charming her senses.
And then in a matter of instances, too fast for her mind two seconds behind could register Carrie was gone and so was Tatum and it was just Sean and Aimee. His hands on her hips, finding the beat, the rhythm, their rhythm. Aimee could feel his chest on her back, his chin on her shoulder, his lips by her air, warm breath and smoke caressing her face. She’d never told him why she hated cigarettes. He’d never asked, just leaving it at the idea of death, cutting your life short. But it was more to it, the mark that would never heal.
‘I want this.’
He wanted this. He wanted her. To be close to her, touch her, dance, have a good time.
Heck, Aimee wasn’t complaining.
At the quick kiss on her cheek Aimee stumbled forwards, and with what little realisation she was turned by Carrie and in moments, things returned the way they were. Once more she was with her other half, swaying hips, dizzy and light headed. Looking over Carrie’s shoulder Aimee watched Sean, caught his eye. Everything was far from returning to the way they were.
Arching her lips to Carrie’s ear Aimee half-shouted over the thump of the music.
“I need to go get a drink.”
With helping, supporting hands Aimee was off the stage and back to weaving through the crowds. She brushed past Jack and Tatum on their way to the stage, she offered them a smile but didn’t stop. Man her head was spinning.
“Sam. I need anything. Give me anything.”
She managed to put the words together, which was a feat itself. Right now, all Aimee needed was enough alcohol to pause her heart; to slow her senses so much she didn’t need to acknowledge the aching feeling that struck her where it hurt. As he placed a further two shots of something that looked promising in front of her Aimee reached for them in thanks. She drained both and then pressed her forehead to the bar counter, feeling the wood against her skin, the feel of a past pressed into the grains.
Aimee prayed for her heart to stop and when she could no longer feel it beating she was on her feet once more, dancing with a stranger she didn’t know the face off. His breath was warm and his body close. She didn't even notice how he moved just that he was touching her, brushing a hand against her cheek, saying something she couldn’t hear. And because her heart wasn’t beating she laughed and moved on, back to the stage where her demise was layed out before her.
Climbing back onto the stage she slipped and went backwards int othe crowd, a yell escaping her lips. Caught in strong arms she shook back her hair and laughed accepting the help to climb back up again once more. In an instant she was by Carrie's side but her eyes never left Sean and her mind never left the feeling of his body against hers.
Her fate in some sense was sealed.
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Antranig Sutlian
New Member
Healer
Looking for a sign that the universal minds have written you into the passion play.
Posts: 28
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Post by Antranig Sutlian on Aug 25, 2006 22:20:40 GMT -5
Antranig will be joining the festivities tomorrow morning when Lise is more awake
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Post by Damita Kenrick on Aug 26, 2006 4:42:59 GMT -5
Damita Kenrick hardly had time to attend bars. Yes, most people went home and crashed after their 14 hour shift at St Mungo's, but not Damita. She had another responsibility to get back to at home, and that was in the form of her daughter, Hayley. No one at the hospital, except of course Jack Bowler, knew that Damita had a young daughter to attend to when she'd finished work, because when Damita applied for this traineeship, she was afraid being a single mother would count against her, and it was something she wanted so much that she felt she had to keep it a secret.
Hmmm, scandelous, aren't we?
Well, sort of, I guess. However, the fact that it looked as though Damita was ashamed of her daughter often made her feel sick to her stomach. Yes, in some ways she was riddled with guilt, but in others she knew it was for the best. She was securing both her, and her daughters' future. Oh, and an added positive was the fact that soon she would be able to move out of her parents' house and start renting her own little apartment with Hayley. She knew that what she was doing nw would reward them both later, and that was her only priority right now.
But for some reason, socializing in a bar this particular evening was a priority. You see, Damita's mother and father had decided that Damita needed a night out to be with her 'new work friends'. Yes, it even amazed Damita how her parents could make her still feel like a teenager getting her first part time job or something. Still, she was grateful for the way they helped her with Hayley and this new job, and how they encouraged her to persue her dreams.
So, Damita dressed in a pair of faded skinny jeans, a pair of black flats, and a dainty off the shoulder shirt that had red ribboned trimming and a pretty little bow, her hair in soft curls and out. Yes, Damita was a very dainty dresser, and a very dainty, polite person in general. Unless you ticked her off, I guess, because then she fired up, and when Damita Kenrick fired up, it was best to get out of the way, because there were bound to be casualties.
Arriving at the bar, Damita took a deep breath before entering. Yes, she was imagining all the possible ways this could pan out. See, she'd been invited to this bar for drinks and what not a number of times, but she always politely declined the offer, saying she had things to attend to at home, or that she was too tired. Really, she wasn't lying, she just wasn't giving all the information. The thing was, Damita was imagining the surprise of most of the people inside this bar at her appearence. It's called paranoia, I guess.
"It's just a night out." she said to herself, under her breath. Wow, she was talking to herself. Perhaps she should be admitted. Or not.
So, she pushed open the door, and was greeted with the scent of strong liquor, smoke, and polished wood, and the noise of loud music and loud chatter. Lovely. Stepping inside, she walked over to the bar, glancing around to see any of her workmates, which she soon spotted in the middle of the dance floor. Making her way to the bar, her eyes fell upon that of Jack, and a girl whom he was talking to. Waving at them both gently, and smiling politely, Damita finally reached them.
"Hello." she said, somewhat softly, then looking at the bar tender and smiling.
"Um, could I just get and orange juice please?" she asked, yelling just a little as to be heard over the music.
"Just an orange juice, love? Are you sure I can't put somethin' a little stronger in it for ya?", Sam asked, smiling at her as he picked up a glass under the counter and started busying himself with getting her drink.
"Oh...um, no thank you. I don't really drink." she said, smiling, then looking back to Jack and Tatum.
Well, it's true. Damita didn't really drink because the last time she got wasted she ended up pregnant to some loser who was out of there like a jet when he found out. Yer, it's all about the love until a baby's on the way. Still, Damita grew up a lot then, and swore off alcohol. Yer, she was a bit of a rebellious one in her Hogwart's days', I guess you could say.
"Have you guys been here long?" she asked, smiling.
What can I say? It was a conversation starter.
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