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Oliver Mitchell

The Failure

0 · 196 views · located in New York, NY

a character in “In The Concrete Jungle”, as played by The Machine

Description

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Oliver Kevin Mitchell

"Oli"


Age
22

Date of Birth
June 26, 1993

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Height:
5'10"

Weight:
180lb

Occupation
"Entrepreneur" is what he would say. At this point, he's basically doing anything he can to survive. Basically, he does whatever odd job is needed.

Hometown
Toronto, Ontario, Canada

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Personality

Let's just say that Oli is a big dreamer. Ever since he was a boy, he had dreams of striking it rich, and he continues to hold that dream even after losing everything. As the elements wear him down, he persists with all that he has to press forward. Perhaps that's what is the saddest thing, he doesn't give up, even when he probably should. His mother insisted that he returned home the last time he got to talk to her, but he refused. There's no turning back now, at least that's how he sees it.

Despite his attitude of never giving up, he has a hard time standing up for himself when he needs to. Rarely does he have the courage to say something against someone, the worst he can do most of the time is mildly protest, or try to come up with some flimsy excuse to get out of it. That is easily his biggest flaw -- he's too polite to stand up for himself, which would screw him over later. There is one standard he has, he will not preform any sexual favors for money, no matter how desperate. That could be the one thing he has no problem with refusing and standing up for.

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He lives by the straight-edge lifestyle. You'll never see him drink, smoke, or do drugs. Even if he's forced into dealing drugs, he'll go by the code thou shall not get high off one's own supply. It can be a bit awkward when someone offers him one of those things in a public setting, only to turn it down because of his own guidelines. He hopes he won't have to experience being the only sober one in the room with his nine other roommates, because he's experienced that before with his mom and whatever boyfriend she had at the time.

Oli tries to hide his flaws by being easy-going and attempts befriend everyone he can. As long as people are also friendly with him, they won't know about his shortcomings. This is easiest with kids, who... tend to be more trustworthy than adults. He would experience how untrustworthy adults, especially ones in the Big Apple are, first hand. It's an experience he'll never forget.

Likes
  1. Money
  2. Nice people
  3. Children
  4. Hot shower
  5. Clean clothes
  6. Success

Dislikes
  1. Jerks
  2. People putting him down
  3. Alcohol, drugs, and weed
  4. His hometown
  5. His mom's ex-boyfriends

History

Oli was born in a relatively poor area in Toronto, Canada. He was raised by a single mother, Patricia, while his father was never in the picture. He never liked the area he lived in. It was too boring, slummy, and its only claim-to-fame internationally is being home to a certain crack-smoking mayor. His whole life he had big dreams of moving to America as an entrepreneur, hoping to strike it rich and live in the lap of luxury. Everyone put him down for it, his mother, his relatives, his classmates... nobody believed he could be anything more than poor.

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His mother's goal was to find a husband who could take care them.. She to had the idea being rich, but instead of working for it, she wanted find someone who already had that money. This led to her dating a lot people who had money, but were total losers. They would abuse her and him until they finally broke up. None of his mom's boyfriends liked him, all of them thought he was just some stupid kid with stupid dreams. When he turned 18, he had sight sets for New York. Once he graduated school and saved up enough money to survive, he hightailed it out of there.

One long bus trip later, he was in The City that Never Sleeps. He got himself an apartment with several other roommates that helped with paying for the high cost of living. He got himself a job as a clerk at a candy store, and eventually saved up as much money as he could to open his own candy shop. It wasn't a big store, he couldn't afford something extravagant like that in New York yet, but it had its own charm to it. He able to get his own apartment from the money he made, and it seemed like he was on track to becoming a millionaire.

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But things didn't go according to plan. One day a man pressured him to give him money, or he was going to have his friends attack the store. He caved in out of fear, and gave him what he wanted. However, that man wasn't one of honor. He burned down his store anyways at night when Oli was sleeping, and didn't discover it until he went to work the next morning. Since he didn't insure the store, thinking it would save him money, he lost everything.

Now he's forced onto the street, doing whatever he can to survive. Living with nine other people in a basement wasn't exactly his plan when moving to America, but one day he dreams of reopening his store, and this time, he'll get insurance.


Face Claim:
Andrew Garfield

So begins...

Oliver Mitchell's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Holly Maddon Character Portrait: Isaac Rankin Character Portrait: Roman Killens Character Portrait: Brooklyn West Character Portrait: Nick Moreno Character Portrait: Lateefah Ekwensi-Hart Character Portrait: Kiara Moore Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell Character Portrait: Colton King Character Portrait: Cara Forrester

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Location: Manhattan, NY
Date: Friday, October 16th 2015
Time: 3:00 PM

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nick Moreno Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell

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It had been a loooooong day, just like any other. The season is autumn, which couldn't have come sooner. New York could get surprisingly hot during the summer, and that brutal East Coast winter weather would be just around the corner. Toronto could get some pretty bad winters too, so it's like he wasn't used to it. After spending almost a year on the street, Oli felt grateful that he finally had a "home" -- or at least as close to a home as he could get in his current situation. He had just met Nick last month, and gave him this basement to live in with nine other people. According to Nick, spending the entire summer in that basement was a miserable experience, so he felt like he had dodged a bullet there.

Now, what did he do on his "loooooong day"? Simple. He did whatever he could do to make a little bit of money. On the streets of Manhattan, he walked around all day long trying to find some work. Anything just for something to spend. Grateful that he didn't have any alcohol or drug addictions to blow money on, unlike his roommates. In his heart, he doesn't need those things. Money, that's my drug. After spending several hours walking on the street finding nothing, he came across an older couple moving out of there old apartment.

"Hello young man" said the woman. She seemed to already trust him. "Hey, I see you could use some help." The old man nodded, "Yeah, we're retiring and leaving this city. We're going to live in Clearwater, Florida. Moving our stuff out here isn't easy for this old geezer. Would you be willing to help? There'll be some heavy lifting, but it's an honest work. How does $100 sound?"

That was all he needed to hear. At this point, $100 sounds like a shitload of money. Any amount of heavy lifting would be worth it. While he may not be the strongest guy on the block, he can still handle it. A half-hour or so passed, and Oli could feel the sweat on his armpits and forehead. It was an honest work alright, and he was panting by the end of it. "Here you go slick," the old man said as handed him five twenties. "Spend it all in one place." said the woman. "Trust me, I don't plan to. Have fun in Florida." They waved goodbye as they took off in their UHaul truck, headed to their sunny coastal town.

Now Oliver had some green, and it wasn't the sticky kind his lowlife friends indulge in. As he was walking home, he passed by a Subway restaurant. The temptation was too great to resist. He went inside, and order himself a sandwich. Foot long, nine grain wheat ham sandwich. American cheese, pickles, jalapenos, lettuce, tomatoes, peppercinis, toasted. With a side of barbecue chips and a soda. Once he finished his order, he was sure to save the remaining money for later.

Finally he made it back home, and sat down on the table to enjoy his meal. He hoped no one would try ask if they could have some. This was his, he earned that much.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roman Killens Character Portrait: Nick Moreno Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell

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Despite it being just past three in the afternoon, he still felt like it was too early. After an exhausting night kept him out until four in the morning, Roman felt like he could have slept a good two hours more. Sometimes sleeping in this late was a big deal, though, as Holly had a tendency to wake people up at ungodly early hours of the morning. This was a slight exaggeration. To him, nine in the morning was borderline satanic, and sometimes she was up earlier. Now it was quiet though, and he wanted to relish that rarity for as long as he could, so he tried to ignore the thickening pain in his back that dragged him from his sleep. He buried his face in the mattress for a few minutes before he finally realized that he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep. Roman didn't move right away though. His muscles were already clenching around the bone, tightening and demanding some type of relief. Instead he just lied still for a few moments, resting his eyes as if he could trick himself into an extra hour of sleep.

Some footsteps came back from the stairwell. Roman looked over to see who it was, and once he saw that it was Nick, he flopped back on his stomach and groaned. If it wasn't for the emptiness of his stomach forcing him out of bed, he probably would have continued lying there, holding onto the warmth his skimp blanket barely provided. Roman slept in the corner of the room, just on the other side of the dividing wall that separated Brooke and Nick's space from everyone else's. There was something comforting in being enclosed, at least for him. Perhaps there was that lacking sense of exposure. Or maybe it was something else, who knows. Although he was rummaging through his things for some pain killers, he was still just as good as sleepwalking as his eyes were barely open and his movements were sluggish and zombie like. He found two pills and swallowed them dry before stiffly pulling on a shirt.

Roman sat facing the wall for a moment the way he usually did whenever he woke up. Getting up straight after waking was disorienting and overwhelming to him. He needed at least a few seconds to just sit and come to terms with his current life situation which, admittedly, hadn't really changed in the past eight years he'd been on the streets, but the weight of everything required him to at least have a moment to himself. Silently, he dressed and went to the bathroom. When he came back out he surveyed the room; mostly empty except now Oliver was sitting at the table eating Subway. As if on cue, his stomach contracted, and he remembered his need for something to eat.

Unabashedly, he had a taste for Starbucks. Brooke was the one who got him into it, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he actually kind of liked it. While not a big fan of coffee--tea was his hot drink of choice--he still enjoyed it enough to frequent the place here and there. They did have tea on the menu, plus they had pretty good deserts. The only thing was that they were a bit out of his price range, as most things he bought were supposed to be before he decided to ignore it. After his manager took his portion of what Roman had earned the night before, and then once Roman set aside the two hundred he'd need for the next entrance fee, he didn't have as much as he'd like. He never had as much money as he thought he deserved given what he did for a living. He could make it work if he really wanted to. Like now. If he took a few days off, maybe three, to let his body recover, and just lived off, what, just over 15% of those earnings each day between matches? He could easily save about $275 and have just as much left over by the end of the month. But that wasn't going to happen. Never did and it never would. He hated many aspects of his life, and he complained about them, but he still remained sedentary. It was as though the prospect of getting out and doing something with his life was scarier than dying out here. It was stupid. Mindless. Self-contradictory. He knew. He knew. And just as such, he chose not to know. Instead he'd pretend that he was really stuck in every way possible as it was a far easier to put blame on a system than on himself. So that was what he did.

"Done for the day?" Roman said casually, the leftover sleep placing a scratchy bass in his voice. He felt to make sure that his cigarettes were in his pocket before pulling one out and balancing it between his lip. "I think I'm about to go eat if you want to come with."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roman Killens Character Portrait: Nick Moreno Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell

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Nick had noticed Roman on his mattress, but assumed that he was passed out. The wall that separated he and Brooklyn's beds from the rest of them was thin, so he heard the shuffling as Roman got up and sorted himself out, and as Oliver came down. Nick didn't know it was Oliver from where he was sitting on his bed, but he was also sure that it wasn't Brooklyn. If it were his girlfriend, he'd already have a headache. Regardless, Nick wasn't in any rush to interact with anyone. He had around one hundred dime bags of weed, as well as a couple of bundles of pills in his backpack, and he needed to sort all of that out, especially before his luck ran out and Brooklyn did come down. He would have to hear about how he better not be packing the drugs anywhere near her stuff, because she didn't want to reek of marijuana, and how if he put this much energy into a real profession, maybe they wouldn't be in this position. Nick knew he was being just as dramatic as she could be, and he hated himself for not being able to let go off their arguments like he used to be able to do. He knew that by entertaining Brooklyn at all, when she was in one of her moods, was just a losing battle. It wasn't going to do him any good, because she'd never see his side of things, but it was also getting hard for him to deal with her snapping day after day and not doing anything. Things were simple when he believed that all of this was his fault, and that if one day he made a lot of money, she'd be the girl that he fell in love with, but he was beginning to think that this was her nature. That she was inherently hostile, and the possibility of that bothered him. Was he wasting his time in this relationship, or was he not being sympathetic to Brooklyn's needs, and the very large possibility that she was struggling with something more than just their relationship issues? He didn't know, and he was glad when Roman appeared to distract him from those thoughts.

"For the most part, yeah," Nick nodded as he snapped the large plastic container shut. Inside of it were probably five other plastic containers of different sizes, with the smallest holding the drugs, which were wrapped in one of his sweatshirts. It was a precaution he took to appease Brooklyn more than it was to protect himself from any legal consequences or anything of those sorts. He stood up, glancing to his bed, where one of the dime bags and his rolling paper sat. He was planning on smoking that, but if Roman was ready to go eat, he'd save it for later. "Alright, yeah, I'll come," he said, getting to his feet. He took only his wallet from his backpack before heading towards Roman. "Are you trying to get real food, or fast food and shit?" he questioned, not really having a preference with one over another. He was hungry, so a real meal at a cheap restaurant would be good, but so would ordering a bunch of even cheaper things from a fast food place. "Hey, Oli, Roman and I are heading out to grab some food. I'd tell you to come, but it looks, and smells, like you're already good," he said with an easy smile, when he found that the mysterious person he had heard earlier, was Oliver. He was seated across the room with a Subway sandwich that made Nick even hungrier than he thought he was before. "Let's take the alley," he suggested, once he turned back to Roman. "I owe Finn a hello, but I'm not in the mood to talk to him for three hours."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nick Moreno Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell

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Oliver finished up his Subway. It was the most delicious piece of food he had in what felt like forever. He had longed for the old days when he was able to get a Subway on a regular basis, those days having long passed. Now he only has around $92 left, he needs to make a little more money. He hates to admit it, but maybe he could accompany Nick on one of his drug deals if it could get him a cut. Not that he would partake in doing them, just dealing them. Though, he hates the idea of being caught in a sting.

One of these days, Nick's gonna get caught. The police were cracking down on drugs harder than ever. If Nick does get caught, this whole thing would fall apart. What are the odds that Nick could rat out his customers if it reduced his sentence? More importantly, would he rat out his friends? Several of his friends partake in illegal drugs, and knowing how corrupt the police force can be, it's possible that Oliver could be arrested by association.

Nonetheless, money is money, and Oliver needs some. He saw Nick leave earlier, out to get some food from the looks of it when he saw his Subway sandwich. The next time they see each other, Oliver will tell him his interest in helping out with a deal, for a cut of course. Oliver went upstairs and into the pub. He wasn't going to order drinks, but there was some nice music playing on the radio. Currently playing was "Train in Vain" by The Clash. The entire bar was filled with drunkards and other lowlifes.

One could not believe how slow time passed when you were homeless. Even after nearly a year to get used to it, nothing about it had changed. He had no cell phone to use, that so many people these days would spend their whole days slaving over. There were hardly any forms of entertainment in the basement. Maybe one day he could change his situation.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Holly Maddon Character Portrait: Isaac Rankin Character Portrait: Brooklyn West Character Portrait: Lateefah Ekwensi-Hart Character Portrait: Kiara Moore Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell Character Portrait: Colton King Character Portrait: Cara Forrester

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The night before had been an unpleasant one for Kiara. Prostitution was never a glamorous gig, but there definitely were nights that were better than others. On a great (and rare) occasion, she would find some middle-aged man who was in-between on whether he was really going to do this, and hire someone to sleep with him. It was frequently a guy who lived a very vanilla lifestyle and was probably stepping out on his wife for the first time. Usually with these guys, she could fuck him once, and he would think that was all he paid her for. A lot of the time, she'd be able to use the shower of his hotel room, and if she felt like it, maybe even take advantage of the nice room and sleep over with him. Most of the time, however, it wasn't like that for her. Work for her usually consisted of fucking a guy in the bathroom of a bar, or in a cab or alley outside. She didn't work for a pimp, because she had tried that route already and managed to get out, and she wasn't going to go back to it. However, working on her own meant that she didn't have job security, and her clients tended to be the scummiest people one could imagine. She didn't make much money, and sometimes, she'd finish the job and they'd refuse to pay her. What could she do? Run to the police and tell them that she was working as a prostitute and was ripped off? That would land her in jail, if she could even make it that far before the guy tried to strange her, or something.

It was an extremely dehumanizing job, and it wasn't even like she ended up with good money to compensate. Most of the time, Kiara was just barely getting by. The fact that she tended to indulge in alcohol and drugs over necessities played a role in that, though. For Kiara, it was just necessary to get high or blackout-level drunk after working. She didn't want to think about what she had just done, and that was the only way that she could actually escape this reality. It was what she had done last night when she got back to the basement. She spent ten dollars on a cheap bottle of vodka that she had a fair amount of upon getting into bed, and then took the Quaalade that the man she fucked an hour before tried to convince her to take while she was with him. She was out like a light within fifteen minutes of taking the pill, and probably would have slept for a solid twelve to thirteen hours, had Holly not woken her up that morning. She managed to fall back asleep for a few hours, but it wasn't that same deep sleep that she craved, especially when she knew that she was hungover. For a while, she was actually so dead feeling, that she couldn't even muster up the energy to get sick to at least give her stomach a chance to settle down. When everyone started coming in and out, and she was too awake to drown out the sounds, she decided to just get up, though. A good amount of the vodka she had had the night before came up before she was able to leave the bathroom, and then she left the basement. She buried herself in a men's size large NYU sweatshirt that she had taken from the lost and found at the gym she had a membership to a few months back, along with a pair of leggings and combat boots.

She spent most of her day doing laundry, walking, and enjoying the rest of her vodka out of a water bottle. Although Kiara never had much money to shop, she enjoyed going into stores anyway. Sometimes she found the courage to snag something little here and there from stores. It was usually just a pack of gum or a box of Midol, little things that wouldn't be missed much. Usually, though, she just browsed in an attempt to kill time, and distract herself. Today, she found that she had made a good choice by heading into a Trader Joe's, as she replaced the need for lunch with a plethora of their free samples. When her feet started hurting, she headed back to the pub. She wanted something to mix the rest of her vodka with, and she decided that maybe she could convince Finn to give her a glass of soda for free. It wasn't like he didn't give Brooklyn and Nick, and probably even Tee and Holly, meals and drinks on the house all of the time! Then again, Kiara knew that she wasn't close with Finn, and was actually one of the ones that irritated him the most, but it was worth a shot.

Upon entering, she was sidetracked when she saw familiar faces at the bar. There was Isaac, closest to her, and then on the other side, Brooklyn, and was that... Cara? Preppy young blondes weren't a common sight in Finn's bar, and with a closer look, Kiara confirmed it was her. She was definitely surprised to see the girl who had disappeared months ago, but before she got into that, she embraced Isaac from behind. "Glad to see you're alive," she teased as she sat down beside him. Kiara considered Isaac to be one of her realest friends here. She didn't feel like an addict, at least not compared to him, but she knew that he understood what she was doing with drugs. She worried for him a lot, but when she wasn't even in control of her own life, she knew that she couldn't try to force him to change either. They were all addicted things for reasons, and not just because they were rebellious kids and drugs were fun. "So, what've we got here today? Looks like Malibu Barbie is back, trying to engage with Godzilla, for some reason that's beyond me. Who else are we dealing with?" she inquired playfully as she gazed around the bar. She didn't know if Isaac was in one of his downer moods, when he was coming off of a drug or not, but she tried engaging with him anyway.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Holly Maddon Character Portrait: Isaac Rankin Character Portrait: Brooklyn West Character Portrait: Lateefah Ekwensi-Hart Character Portrait: Kiara Moore Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell Character Portrait: Colton King Character Portrait: Cara Forrester

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Somewhere in between her first and second drink, Brooklyn noticed the trio sitting in a booth across the room. She had only tilted her head to the side to look at them briefly, before turning back to the bar, but once she realized that they were up here, it seemed impossible for her to release any of the tension that she felt wracking her bones. "They" consisted of Lateefah, Holly and Colton, but mainly just the first two. Actually, if Brooklyn wanted to be extra petty, she would just say that it only consisted of Lateefah. Sure, Holly was the stem of her issues with Lateefah, but she could deal with Holly. She wanted to deal with Holly, at least. She'd sacrifice the money to buy a roll of duct tape to wrap around the girl's mouth, and a leash to keep her unable to rifle through Brooklyn's things, and then she wouldn't have any problems with Holly. With Lateefah... well, that was an entirely different story. Brooklyn despised her. Secretly, and she wouldn't even admit it to herself, she respected the girl for being an older sister to Holly, but without thinking of that, Brooklyn couldn't stand her. She thought that she could stand up to Brooklyn, as if she were some hero that was rushing in to save the day, when all she really was, was some loser who was probably faking that she had a college degree, and yet, still managed to think that she was superior to her. Even thinking about it, had Brooklyn internally reciting, 'Really, bitch?', as if she were getting ready to engage in one of their frequent verbal (with threats to go physical) arguments.

She did her best to pretend that the bitch and her annoying sister weren't there, and it took a lot, but soon she was able to focus on just the immediate space in front of her. She kept her eyes on her glass and methodically sipped from it every so often. Before long, she was mentally in her own world, oblivious to the sports game on the television across the room, the loud conversation Finn was having, or the music that was playing on top of all of this. She didn't notice Oliver, or Isaac, or Kiara, or even Cara, until the blonde was literally right next to her and speaking. She left Cara speak without saying a word herself, not because she was shocked at seeing her, but because she was still trying to remain in her own zone. She didn't want to get into a bad mood today, especially when she was still feeling so physically drained from the hangover. However, when Cara stopped speaking, ending it with a request to move back in, Brooklyn couldn't resist smirking. "What? Did they kick you out of the J. Crew catalog that you were living in, or something?" she questioned as her eyes roved over the girl. She looked pretty, and Brooklyn was sure that the outfit was probably worth the amount of money that most of the kids in the basement made in a month. Cara wasn't showy on purpose, but it just happened with her. She was a lot better now (or when she left in July) than she had been when Brooklyn first met her, but it seemed like it would be impossible to fully shake the spoiled rich girl from Cara. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, especially not to Brooklyn, who lusted over lives like Cara. That was probably the only reason why Brooklyn had accepted her, at first. Because she wanted to be her.

"There's room for you, yeah. I've been looking for a reason to get rid of Lateefah anyway," Brooklyn added, instinctively nodding her head back towards the table she had last seen Tee at. "I can't tell you that all of your stuff is still down there, though. You know how they are... like vultures. Your shit was pawned within a week of you leaving," she continued, still smirking. She wasn't joking though. She doubt it mattered to Cara, since money clearly was not an option to her, even when she apparently had no where else to reside, but she found it funny. And admittedly, Brooklyn had taken a few things for herself. It wasn't like she wouldn't have done that when Cara was around anyway, though. "Did Daddy tell you you were only allowed to have five mansions, and not six, and that's why you're here?" she asked after a moment. A fight with her father seemed like the only reasonable scenario for Cara returning. When Brooklyn had last spoken to her a week ago, there hadn't been any mention of wanting to move back in, but Brooklyn was aware that that was the only reason why Cara was out here. She didn't get along with her father and stepmother, and at least from what Cara said, they "hated her" enough to kick her out onto the streets. Brooklyn doubted that was completely true, but as her drinks started to hit her and make her feel more of a human than a zombie, she was curious.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Holly Maddon Character Portrait: Isaac Rankin Character Portrait: Kiara Moore Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell Character Portrait: Cara Forrester

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Kiara brushed over Isaac's comment about not feeling alive, not because she didn't hear it or didn't emphasize for him, but because she didn't think she could give him any advice. He was clearly coming down from a high, and she knew how he was feeling, but at least from her experience, there was no way to combat that feeling. Nothing she could say would help, so she tried to keep the conversation moving without focusing on the bad. "Oh, come on, Cara's not that bad," she returned, when Isaac commented on how he hoped she wasn't trying to get Brooklyn to let her come back. Granted, Kiara had only been in the basement for four months, and only one of those included Cara living there too. However, she had never had a problem with the girl. She didn't know her story very well, and maybe it was stereotypical, but Kiara didn't think it took a detective to look at Cara, and know that she didn't grow up in the hood. She knew that poverty wasn't the only thing that constituted a bad life, but at the same time, she thought that she could have dealt with the neglect she faced at home, had her home been a mansion in the Hamptons. Whatever problems that Cara had had to have been laughable compared to what everyone else was facing. Her living with them was disrespectful in a way, because one could assume that she thought whatever minuscule problem she had was equal to theirs, but at the same time, she wasn't obnoxious.

"Besides, I didn't get a chance to ask her if she had a brother before she went MIA. You know I'm gonna be all over that and, hell, I'd take a sister too. Marrying is the easiest way to get into that life. It's a fact," she declared. For a girl like her, it seemed like it would be the easiest, maybe even the only way to get out of the circle of poverty. She didn't have a high school diploma or her GED, so she couldn't go to college. She didn't have the money to get her GED either. A high school diploma wasn't necessary for a lot of entry level positions, but it was for most of the reputable ones. If she wanted to, Kiara could've gotten a job at a fast food restaurant or something, but when it came down to it, she also didn't want to commit to a real work schedule yet. Nothing could be worse than how she made money now, and after every night of working, she vowed to look for a real job, but it never happened. She wouldn't be able to pass a drug test, and she wouldn't be able to wake up regularly to meet her shift requirements. She had an endless amount of excuses on hand, but Kiara really was going to try to look for a job, especially with the seasonal rush approaching, where it would be easier to get a retail job.

"Hopefully Tee is around." Kiara commented, agreeing that it was likely that the girl was around. She glanced back at the table Holly was at, watching as Cara left Brooklyn and approached it too. "Maybe today Tee will be the one to knock Brooklyn out like one of us has been needing to do," she commented snidely, but while offering Isaac a playful smile. She meant it, but luckily, Brooklyn hadn't pissed her off today to where she was actually feeling aggressive. "So everyone besides Nick and Roman are here, and I guess that leaves me wondering what you're up to. Besides drinking..." she started, taking his glass and sipping it, "Coke and whiskey, of course," she added, returning the glass and meeting his gaze.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell

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Oliver had woken up from a long nap. After such long day spent out on street, he crashed himself in bed. Throughout his nap, he had nightmares. It felt like years had passed inside his mind. Each dream was worse than the last, and each tormented him about his past living with his mother in the ghettos of Toronto.

"Why do you have those stupid dreams of moving to America?!" his mother Patricia yelled at him. "You're supposed to stay here, and help your mother like a good boy. Don't say that again or I will beat you!"

These memories of his mother, that hard times she put him through, were haunting. The memories of her various boyfriends, how they would abuse him both physically and mentally. They took advantage of his mother, and subjected them to torture. Despite going after people with money, she ended up with the biggest losers. A variety of different kind of losers. Many of them were drug addicts, other went with alcohol. Most mixed the two together.

Oliver sleepily got himself out of bed, and headed upstairs. Once he got to the bar, he ordered himself a soda to help wake himself up. The man sitting next to him laughed, it seemed like a pussy thing to go to bar and order a non-alcoholic beverage.

"Why don't you get yourself a real man's drink kid."

"No thanks."

This was another downside of his predicament. He had to deal with lowlifes like him, who prefer wasting themselves away then thinking about what's real. Well, that describes a lot of his friends pretty well, too. At least they understand him, hopefully. Once he was properly woken up, he got away from the bar, ready to go about his day.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Brooklyn West Character Portrait: Lateefah Ekwensi-Hart Character Portrait: Oliver Mitchell Character Portrait: Colton King

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#, as written by Thunder
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Colton didn't really think that Lateefah was going to go for the idea of a quickie with him. He didn't believe that because he didn't think that she, personally, was against the idea, but just because she was too responsible. She wasn't going to leave Holly alone in the dining area of the bar, she wasn't going to fuck him in the closet of her workplace, and she wasn't going to be intimate with him when everyone was awake and could quite possibly walk in on them in the act. He knew that there was just as much lust in Tee as there was in him, and when she pressed her lips to his, it only proved it. She was probably partly doing it to keep him enthralled, to give him a preview of what she was promising for later, but he was sure that she got a thrill out of it too. Ever since she had recalled how poorly her ex had preformed in bed, Colton had made it a bit of a mission to make sure she got just as much out of the experience as he did. It wasn't just to make her happy, but to prove that he was as superior in bed as he talked himself up to be.

"I'm holding you to that promise," Colton called out as Lateefah headed back into the main area of the pub. She was right, that it was going to be hard for him to hold off until then, but he was going to get time with her tonight, whether it meant him pouring a bottle of Benadryl down Holly's throat himself. The kiss had lifted his mood substantially, and rather than follow Lateefah back out into the pub, he decided to leave their interaction at that. He would let her finish eating and then working, and wait to bother her again until he could really get her back for leaving him with just a kiss.

He didn't have the money to afford pub food right now if he planned on eating later, or maybe even grabbing a late night snack with Tee, so he turned and headed downstairs. On his way down, he passed Oliver, who was walking up the stairs, but he didn't say a word to the guy. Colton found him to be odd. Not just in terms of him not seeming to socially fit in with them down there, but just his demeanor in general. Granted, in the month the guy had lived with them, Colton couldn't recall having one real conversation with him, but he wanted to blame Oliver for that. Maybe he was just quiet, but Colton took it as being standoffish, like somehow, the guy thought he was better than the rest of them. Was it that he didn't drink alcohol? Did he want some sort of trophy for being straight edge? Colton didn't get it. It was one thing to live that lifestyle, and he had considered that maybe Oliver was a recovered addict or something. That was all good and well, but he got the vibe that Oliver didn't just not want to use personally, but that he frowned upon other people who did drink and use drugs. He supposed that the drug thing was understandable, but when you lived below a bar with nine people, seven of whom were actually legal to drink, what delusional version of reality were you living in to act like consuming alcohol was an act of blasphemy? Colton didn't get it, and honestly, he didn't care to know Oliver anymore than he barely did.

He continued into the basement without a word and planned on settling into his bed to relax for a few hours. Even though he wasn't exhausted, sleeping would prevent him from wanting to consume any of his alcohol or waste any money on food for the time being. However, after only a moment on the mattress, he heard rustling from the walled off section of the basement that Nick and Brooklyn resided in, and figuring it was Nick, he headed over. Spending a couple of dollars on a joint to help him pass out couldn't hurt that much... but alas, when he turned the corner, he found Brooklyn laying there, and not Nick. "Damn, I was hoping you were Nick," he admitted, tucking the five dollar bill he had taken back into his pocket. "But, hey, even better. What do you say we make an exchange for some of your boy's weed? I'll give you fifteen minutes of 'The Colton Experience', and then you give me just enough to roll a blunt. Doesn't even need to be a fat one, I'll give you a discount," he offered, leaning against the wall with a provocative smirk on his face. He relaxed his form, but mentally knew that with Brooklyn, he needed to be prepared for a physical attack in instances like this, where he was purposely being a jackass.