Whole Again » Places

         xxxxxxxxxxxE L I Z A B E T H xxB R I S B A N E

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDialogue:#730000
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOutfit:Nights in Red Velvet
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSong: Under Pressure

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Elizabeth had lost count of the number of times she had thrown away that same goddamn slip of paper. Every time it contained the same useless information that she was neither interested in or gave a single shit about and every time it found it’s way either back in the trash or out in the gutter. She figured that after the first few days that Greg’s persistence would falter and he’d eventually find another tail to chase. As with most things, Liz couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, it seemed to have increased ten fold. Not only was she being slid his number while she was working but she found herself coming back for a shift from her off days only to find a stack of ripped leaf waiting for her besides the register. With no apparent end in sight and Liz finding no excess energy to waste giving a shit, it simply became part of her routine. Get the paper, throw the paper. Just like that.

With the familiar ringing of the overhead bell signaling a new patron, Elizabeth pulled her powder blue eyes away from the scotch she was pouring long enough to see that it was Greg. Right on time. Rolling her eyes and passing the booze to the gentleman to her right, Elizabeth gifted her next customer an award winning smile, chatting them up as she reached for her glassware and liquor. Though Liz found herself growing bored with the tireless note passing, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t commend Greg for his tenacity. Most men didn’t bother wasting their time or energy on Liz once they realized that their efforts were in vain and, honestly, Elizabeth was thankful for that. There were reasons why she kept to herself and minded her own business. Her life was her own to fuck up. She wasn’t going to be held responsible for potentially being the catalyst to fuck up someone else’s.

Leaning forward and reaching for a skewer of olives to garnish her freshly brewed Bloody Mary, Liz popped them into the cocktail and passed it over to her customer. What she was slid back, of course, wasn’t just the fee for the hooch. Instinctively going to ball the small piece of paper between her pale fingers, Liz hesitated for a moment when she noticed the script etched across it. Instead of being the usual ten digits and his name, Liz was instead posed a question.

Go out with me after your shift is over?
Your friend, Greg

So he was trying a different, bolder approach. Looking from the paper between her fingers to the man that had patiently vied for her attention, Liz felt the corners of her stained lips pull up into a smirk in spite of herself. He was still a prick that stuck his nose where it had no business but he had graduated from pest to proactive and Elizabeth was curious to see what that meant. Giving him a mock salute from across the bar, Elizabeth shook her head some in disbelief and returned her attention to her thirsty occupants.

It didn’t take long for the flies to disperse and for the High Dive to fall into it’s familiar and palpable quiet. The bar rarely ever stayed consistent with its spikes in business. It was a hole in the wall that most people mosied into on their bar hops looking for a quick fix before hitting up their next destination. Liz didn’t mind it, though. She prefered it this way. Her mind was under constant duress from the chaos that she flooded it with on her own. She didn’t need outside help to make it even more hazy. Reaching for and finishing the last few pieces of glassware that glistened on the drying rack to her right, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, eyes wandering and finding their target. Sure enough, there he was, perched in the corner with his arms folded over his wide chest. Throughout the onslaught of customers, Liz could feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck as he watched her busy herself behind the bar. As much as she hated to admit it, knowing that he was watching her every move so closely left her skin feeling flush and her abdomen twisted and aching. It left her feeling conflicted and unsure. While she found his resolution tiring and downright unwelcome it had also found itself falling on the spectrum of her patience as somewhat charming and attractive. She had no intention on letting this man into her life, much less into her circle of people she considered friends. But knowing that someone gave enough of a damn to pursue and push this aggressively left Liz’s confidence glowing. Was her reasoning selfish? Absolutely. But, such was the ways of an addict.

Feeling a hand at her elbow and a whisper in her ear, Liz turned to feel breath against her lobe as her replacement came to relieve her of her shift. After counting down her drawer and going over the stock, Elizabeth gave the girl a side armed hug and wished her luck. Turned out that it was a trainee coming in behind Liz and would only be working a few short hours. Looking up at the clock that hung over the display case of premium liquor, Elizabeth pulled her leather coat over her shoulders before walking over to Greg. The night was still relatively young for someone with her habits. Crossing her arms over her chest then, mocking his stance, she cut her chin towards the door and said simply, an impish grin pulling at the corners of her stained lips.

“One evening, big guy. Better make it count.”