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Greg

"I'm may be an asshole, but I'm not cruel."

0 · 419 views · located in Chicago, Illinois

a character in “Whole Again”, as played by MadMax

Description

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Name: Gregory Brian Dawson

Nicknames: He goes by Greg

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Birth Date: June 15th

Origin: Chicago, Illinois

Occupation: Power Plant Operator (he has worked many odd jobs previous to this one though)

Hex code: #0C5808

Faceclaim: Micah Truitt






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"Fuck you... or not."






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Physical Appearance: He is fairly tall and has a strong muscular physique. He is 201 pounds of pure muscle. When it comes to good looks, Greg is definitely not lacking in that department. He has a somewhat long and angular face with intense hazel eyes that sometimes look green and at others appear to be a warm brown. Of course, his tattoos add to his intimidating factor as they cover both of his arms, the right side of his abdomen, and the tops of his shoulders. His hair is brown, but gets lighter when he is in the sun for a long time. His hair is stylishly messy. He keeps it flipped up in the front and lets the back grow long enough to curl slightly. Greg rarely keeps a clean shaven face and normally has a scruffy mustache and beard.

Attire: Comforatable clothes. Jeans, t-shirt, jacket, boots. He often wears sweatpants in his apartment.

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Hazel

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 201 lbs.

Accessories: Always carries a pocket knife, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. He has a pair of rings he puts on each middle finger, one says F U, the other says 'or not.' Also normally has some kind of food with him.

Tattoos, piercings, scars, etc: Has several tattoos, his most noticeable ones are the roman numerals along the tops of his shoulders. He has many scars on his body from fights, but none that are very noticeable.





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"You don't like me? I don't care."





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Personality: Greg is not your typical guy. Though he is handsome, most people are turned off by his strange demeanor. Because of this, he is a lone wolf most of the time and that suits Greg just fine. He doesn't give a shit what people think of him. For him, everything is out in the open. He's honest, sometimes brutally so and doesn't pretend to be something he is not. If someone does something stupid, he will call them out on it, that's just the way he is. He lives by the motto tough love.

However, he does have a kind heart. He just has an odd way of showing it. One of the strangest things about Greg would be his ability to switch from calm to angry in an instant. Normally, he is a very relaxed and calm person, but if someone rubs him the wrong way, he goes into a fury of blind rage, but the anger never lasts for long and he is back to his calm state. He does have a great sense of humor though and loves to tease.

Likes: Food, dancing, playing the guitar, watching movies, cold weather, rain, the occasional drink, bowling, witty banter, corny jokes, having the last word, crossword puzzles, music, lava lamps, angry sex, wood work, socks, beanies, cats, massages.

Dislikes: Liars, fake people, fedoras, boring people, mom jokes, the number 6, the police, salads, the word hysterical, long fingernails, crickets, sand.

Strengths: Not a jugdmental person. He'll tell you when you're doing something wrong, but he won't think any less of you for doing it. He is also street smart and has a lot of knowledge with mechanics and machinery.

Weaknesses: Greg is a horrible driver. Once he lost his license, he sold his car and now travels by bus, taxi, subway, or on foot. Has a temper, but is taking anger management classes to help.

Habits: Greg is a smoker, he has tried to quit several times with no success. (He's mainly trying to quit because it's an expensive habit). He grinds his teeth when he is mad and sometimes breathes deeply. These are both techniques he learned in anger management.






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"Shit happens."






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History: Greg had a dreadful childhood. His mother was a drug addict that left when he was two, leaving him under the guidance of his father, who was a raging drunk. Beatings were the only constant in his life and eventually after so many years, he grew to accept the pain. He basically raised himself, he made his own food, bought his own clothes, and got himself to school. From the age of 10, he was already working odd jobs. He did anything he could to make money, even lying about his age on occasion. School was rough for Greg, not because he wasn't smart, but because he was too tired to focus on his work. Somehow he managed to hold up his grades and ending up going to a vocational school and graduating. A few weeks after his graduation, Greg came home from work to find his father dead with a gun laying next to him. Even though Greg despised his father for the way he treated him, he was still saddened by his death. It was his father after all, no matter how much of a shit bag he really was.

This was the time were Greg's behavior went downhill. He partied, he got drunk, he got into fights, he quit his job. The only thing he didn't do was drugs and that was only because he didn't want to follow down the path his mother took. For the way he was acting, however, he might as well have been doing drugs. It took him a couple of years, but he finally snapped out of it and tried to put his life back together. He went back to working odd jobs, stopped drinking heavily, an attempted to quit smoking, though he hasn't stopped yet. His big break was when he got a job at a power plant, he made more money and actually had a steady job. It didn't take long for the company to see Greg's skill and he got a promotion as a power plant operator. It was the first time in his life that he was steadily making decent money. The only problem that has been holding Greg back is his temper. He recently punched the owner of a bar, and the man was going to press charges, but he dropped them as long as Greg goes to anger management classes. At first, he thought he would hate them, but he has actually grown to like them and he has been using the techniques he learned to calm his anger. But Greg still fights the battle of life and has yet to meet a person to help him along the way.

So begins...

Greg's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by MadMax
xxxxxxxxG R E G xxD A W S O N
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xxxxxxxxxxDialogue: #0C5808
xxxxxxxxxxxSong: The Chain

The night sky stood no chance against the bright city lights of Chicago. Only the alleyways and deserted streets were conveyed by darkness. Walking with his head down to fight against the cold wind, Greg walked along the crowded sidewalks.

After going through a long day at work without beating the shit out of anyone, he felt that he deserved a congratulatory drink. The anger management classes he had been taking, have had a big effect on his attitude. Had his temper disappeared? Hell no. But he found the techniques they had taught him to be helpful.

Greg was in a part of the city that he didn’t come to that often. Falling into routines was something he despised, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to go to random places at odd times. For now, he was in search of a bar, any bar really. He had been only been walking for about 5 minutes before he came across one. Some joint called High Dive, if the large neon sign was anything to go by. The v in dive had went out though, so it actually read High Die. Not one to be picky, he pushed the door open and headed inside.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the loud noises of the city faltered and the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac filled his ears. Greg must have missed the excitement because the place was pretty empty. He was pleased with that fact as he preferred to drink alone. It also lowered his chance of getting into a fight by a considerable amount.

There was only a few other people present, one of them being a drunk man passed out at one of the tables. Greg passed by him and took a seat on one of the bar stools. Another man sat several chairs down from him, but the man’s gaze was so fixed on the bartender that he wouldn’t have noticed Greg if he had shit a gold brick right in front of him.

Not able to keep his mouth shut. he called the man out. “Put your dick back in your pants, asshole.”

Then, turning to the bartender, he said, “I’d like a shot of…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s eye’s find the woman yet again. “The fuck did I just tell you?” He said aggressively. Greg couldn’t stand men that treated women like they were nothing but a piece of meat. Don’t get him wrong, he liked sex just as much as the next guy, but you didn’t see him blatantly salivating over every pair of hot legs he came across. The man must have been heavily intoxicated because he did not say a word in response, just went back to silently drinking.

Satisfied with the turnout of the situation, he took a deep breath to release any remaining anger he had. His head moved towards the bartender once more and he relayed the message he was supposed to say whenever his temper got the best of him. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior and any trouble my outburst may have caused you.” He smiled at the end, proud of himself for remembering the whole thing. “Now, as I was saying, I would like a shot of whiskey please.”

He fixed the collar of his old worn-out jacket, and leaned his elbows along the bar as he waited.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by Ariki
xxxxxxxxxxxE L I Z A B E T H xxB R I S B A N E


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDialogue:#730000
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOutfit:Bar Flies
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSong:Cherry Bomb






Elizabeth rarely ever paid any mind to the sound of people coming or going anymore. The High Dive was known for attracting bar flies, people who found themselves either coming in to forget or leaving to sober up and remember. Either way, the passing faces and the blur of names that she encountered on a near daily basis wasn’t enough to keep Liz even remotely interested in her environment. It was the same song and dance, day in and day out. Tonight was no exception. Standing with her back facing the bar, her hands busying themselves with the liquor bottles that lined the dusty shelves, she hadn’t even noticed when the attractive stranger sauntered into the hole in the wall. It wasn’t until she heard the snap of his tongue and the shuffling of glassware on the bar top that she was pulled from her head space and into the here and now.

While her painted fingers continued to front the already adjacent booze, the young woman found herself glancing over her shoulder, eyes finding and falling on the husky man that sat behind her. He was rugged, sexy, and had an overwhelming energy that emitted from him in waves. The air around him felt charged, like a spring that was loaded and ready to pop at the simplest provocation. The way he lipped off at the unsuspecting patron further validated the vibes he was putting down and it caused Elizabeth’s brow to furrow. Few things got under her skin the way someone looking for a fight where there wasn’t one did. Having a fucked up attitude and warped sense of chivalry to boot was one of them.

“I apologize for my inappropriate behavior and any trouble my outburst may have caused you.”

Did that prick just smile?

“Now, as I was saying, I would like a shot of whiskey please.”

Bringing her arms down to her side and wiping her hands on the towel tucked in her back pocket, Liz silently reached for a shot glass and a bottle of Jameson, presenting them both with a thud. Mimicking his position and placing either of her elbows on the bar, Elizabeth gave the stranger a sweet smile before motioning to the quiet man he had previously mouthed off to.

“That guy right there that you just flipped lip at? Yeah, his name is Gus. Been coming into this shitty bar and drinking our crap booze for the last five years. It’s lushes like him that keep my bar in business and that put a paycheck in my pocket.” Reaching for the bottle and tipping it prone, Liz filled the shot glass and placed the whiskey back down on the bar top. Taking the small glass between her fingers, she tipped the booze back into her mouth, never taking her eyes from the newcomer. Swallowing it down with a quick gulp, she licked her lips a bit and went to pour another.

“I don’t know who taught you manners but last I checked, it was rude to come into someone’s place of business and harass their customers without so much as a word to provoke it.” Once again filling the shot glass, she placed the bottle down with another pronounced thud, gripping the drink between her index and thumb before continuing.”I didn’t ask, need, or want you to come running to my defense and, if I’m being honest, as long as Gus is throwing them back, he can ogle me till the cows come home. Now, about that drink.” Pushing the shot glass towards her newest patron, Elizabeth pulled another glass from beneath the bar and poured herself one to match.“How about you do me a favor and drink that down, pay for your booze, and either apologize to my good friend Gus and share a drink with me or unseat your ass and find another shit hole to occupy.” Lifting her subsequent shot in a cheers fashion, Elizabeth flashed him an award winning smile before asking simply,”What’ll it be, stranger?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by MadMax
xxxxxxxxG R E G xxD A W S O N
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xxxxxxxxxxDialogue: #0C5808
xxxxxxxxxxxSong: Paradise City
Oh sweet mama was she hot. She wasn't exactly what most people would consider to be beautiful, but she had such unique and striking features. That dark hair combined with her pale skin and powder blue eyes was an interesting combination that Greg liked a lot.

His brow went up when she mimicked his movements by setting her elbows on the counter. She gestured to the asshole sitting a few seats down from him before saying. “That guy right there that you just flipped lip at? Yeah, his name is Gus. Been coming into this shitty bar and drinking our crap booze for the last five years. It’s lushes like him that keep my bar in business and that put a paycheck in my pocket.”

Woah there, she sounded absolutely pissed. He hadn't meant to offend her, but that's exactly what had happened. He shouldn't have been surprised, this happened to him all the time. Greg couldn't even recall the amount of people he had accidently pissed off.

When she raised the glass of whiskey to her mouth while still holding his gaze, a smirk settled onto Greg's face. This girl was fun. And damn if that fiery attitude of hers didn't turn him on. He'd always had a thing for girls that were mean to him, the kind that called him names and wouldn't take any of his bullshit. This woman kept on talking too, trying to make him regret his comment probably, but he didn't.

He caught the shot glass in his hand with ease, but continued to watch her, analyzing her as she spoke. “How about you do me a favor and drink that down, pay for your booze, and either apologize to my good friend Gus and share a drink with me or unseat your ass and find another shit hole to occupy.” Then she raised her own glass of whiskey with a bright smile on her face. "What’ll it be, stranger?"

Without hesitation, he reached out to clink his shot glass to hers before downing the shot and sitting it on the counter for a refill. After paying for his drink, his head turned to Gus, as she had called him, and said, "My apologies Gus. You're still a pervert, but I wasn't aware that the lady was into that kind of thing, so sorry about that." Greg pulled out his a cigarette and then lit the end of with his lighter. He inhaled deeply before blowing smoke out in front of him. He made sure not to blow it in the woman's face.

With his cigarette resting between his fingers he continued, "I have a really bad temper unfortunately, but I'm working on it. I've been taking these anger management classes and they've been helping. I'm still an asshole, but progress is progress." He shrugged his shoulders at the last part.

His hazel eyes, more brown in this lighting, honed in on the mysterious bartender yet again. She was hard to read and Greg got the feeling that she was harboring a lot of secrets. She looked as if she had been through hell and back. "The name's Greg by the way, Greg Dawson." He drew his cigarette to his mouth again, smoke now filling the air around him. "You know, there is a Narcotics Anonymous group in the same building as where I go for my classes, you should stop by sometime. We can clean up our acts together." Greg had been around so many users in his lifetime that he could scent one out from a mile away and his instincts told him she abused drugs. He could be wrong of course, but he had to at least try to give her advice. Plus, he liked her. She had some spunk with something deeper lying underneath. What it was he couldn't tell, but he was dying to find out. "Only if your up to it of course, I would never force anyone to do anything."

A devilish grin covered his face as he spoke. "That being said, I'll still annoy the hell out of you until you go. That's just the way I am. You'll get used to it eventually." There was no way he was leaving this girl alone. He planned to stick around for a while and now he just had to weasel his way into her business. His cigarette was hanging out of his mouth as waited for her to respond.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by Ariki
xxxxxxxxxxxE L I Z A B E T H xxB R I S B A N E


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDialogue:#730000
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSong: Bad Reputation





Even with his shitty attitude and blatant lack of respectful approach, Elizabeth felt her stained lips turn up into a grin as she swallowed back her own shot of whiskey. He had a certain devil may care charm about him that she found ridiculously attractive even though she knew that that meant nothing but trouble. Liz was a chaotic whirlwind that had no problems spinning out of control all on her own. Reckless men with an unchecked tongue might have been her bread and butter but the bigger picture always painted them to be more of an aggravation than anything worth keeping around. He’d suffice as a warm body and fun time but not much else.

"I have a really bad temper unfortunately, but I'm working on it. I've been taking these anger management classes and they've been helping. I'm still an asshole, but progress is progress. The name's Greg by the way, Greg Dawson."

Pouring him another shot then, Liz swiped the money from the bar top and popped it into the register, flashing his change and sticking it into her cleavage, instead opting to offer him a smirk in it’s place. “Pleasure, Greg Dawson. Elizabeth Brisbane but you’re better off calling me Liz.”

Pressing her torso against the bar, Liz perched her chin in one hand while the other reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Removing them with ease, she shook the pack and popped one between her lips before reaching for the back of his neck and pulling him forward. Pressing the tip of her cigarette to the end of his, she inhaled slowly, deeply, until she felt her lungs fill with smoke. She was sure to make a quick mental note of the taught, hard sinew of his neck before letting him ease back into his seat. She wondered if the rest of him was wound as tightly. Pulling the stained cigarette from her mouth, an impish smirk colored her features as she listened intently to what he had to say.

"You know, there is a Narcotics Anonymous group in the same building as where I go for my classes, you should stop by sometime. We can clean up our acts together."

And, just like that, whatever carnal attraction she felt bubbling in her belly had quickly been snuffed out and replaced by bile. So, not only was he a hot tempered prick but he was also presumptuous and pompous. Jackpot.

Liz erected herself and took a step back from the bar, pulling forward and snuffing out the half smoked cigarette in the nearest ashtray. Though she didn’t exactly hide the fact that she was an addict, Liz didn’t take too kindly to someone making the assumption, either. He didn’t know a damn thing about her or her past, much less what she went through on a day to day basis with her addiction. She wasn’t sure if his blatant audacity made him ballsy or just downright stupid.

"Only if your up to it of course, I would never force anyone to do anything. That being said, I'll still annoy the hell out of you until you go. That's just the way I am. You'll get used to it eventually."

The tension that had seeped into the bar and weighed heavy in the air was made to feel even more tangible by the audible silence that echoed in the room. All eyes were on this newcomer, Greg. The patrons that regulated this dive knew what topics were up for discussion and which should never be touched. Unfortunately, this poor bastard didn’t. Now, Elizabeth wasn’t only disgusted and completely turned off. She was also pissed.

Placing either of her hands on the bar and leaning into her shoulders, Liz took a deep inhale before turning her eyes up and onto the unsuspecting man that sat across from her. Sure, he might’ve said what he had with the purest of intentions but, as everyone knew, the path to hell was paved with such. Leaning into him then, her pale blue eyes burning and her painted lips set into a hard line, Liz spoke clearly, plainly, being sure to enunciate every word so that her point was not only made, but stuck.

“Listen up, Greg. I don’t give a shit about your anger management or the Good Samaritan shtick you’ve got going. I don’t owe you or anyone a goddamn thing and if and when I decide to ‘clean up my act’ will be on my time and on my terms. You’ve skipped over annoyance entirely and jumped straight into the deep end of pissing me off. So, I suggest you get your shit and get the fuck out of my bar.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by MadMax
xxxxxxxxG R E G xxD A W S O N
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xxxxxxxxxxDialogue: #0C5808
xxxxxxxxxxxSong: Back in Black
“Listen up, Greg. I don’t give a shit about your anger management or the Good Samaritan shtick you’ve got going. I don’t owe you or anyone a goddamn thing and if and when I decide to ‘clean up my act’ will be on my time and on my terms. You’ve skipped over annoyance entirely and jumped straight into the deep end of pissing me off. So, I suggest you get your shit and get the fuck out of my bar.”

Liz, as she had introduced herself, was livid. So much so that her anger was almost palpable. Clearly, his words had hit a nerve. Most people would steer clear of a subject that the person is sensitive to, but her outburst only made him that much more determined to help her.

Looking at her now, he saw a little bit of himself in her. Angry and defensive, lashing out at people before they have a chance to do it first. He couldn't begin to think that he understood her because he didn't. It's impossible to truly understand a person, but he could relate to her. She was holding things back, keeping things hidden, and he needed to show her that those kinds of actions led down a dark path. His past phase of self-destruction was still at the forefront mind, haunting him as a constant reminder of the person he had been. Not to say that he was a saint now, but he liked to think that he learning from his mistakes and improving himself as a person every day. And for some reason, he felt compelled to keep this girl from ruining her life.

However, he wasn't suicidal and he knew that if he kept bothering her now that she would snap. So, he stood from his seat and pulled a piece of paper out of his wallet. Without saying anything, he wrote down his number with Greg written beneath it, and laid it on the counter of the bar. She would probably throw it in the trash, but Greg wasn't anything if he wasn't persistent.

"It wasn't my intention to offend you, I was only trying to be nice. But I'll obey your wishes and call it a night." He turned and walked towards the door. Before he walked out though, he turned back at her to say,"I'm sure we'll see each other again Elizabeth Brisbane. I get the feeling that this is the beginning of a special friendship." With that, he winked at her and headed for his apartment.

*****

The next week had been as uneventful as always. Work, anger management classes, and sleep with his occasional random walks thrown in there. Though, he had added something new to his routine.

Every day, he would stop by the High Dive whenever he was free from work, and drop off a piece of paper with his number on it. Greg wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't speak a word, he would only drop of the paper and leave. If she wasn't working, then he just told whatever bartender was working to pass it on to her. It was his way of catching her attention or at least a way of saying, 'Hey, I'm still here.'

Whether it worked the way he wanted it to or not was up to her, but he would still continue to make himself known to her. Today, he had a different plan in mind. It was a Friday night, he didn't have to work tomorrow, and he planned on talking to Liz. Entering the bar that had now become familiar to him, he was pleased to see that Liz was working. It was crowded tonight, loud chatter filled the room, upbeat music playing in the background. All of the bar stools were taken by people that were hollering out order after order. She was obviously busy, so Greg did what he had been doing the past week. He sent her a note.

This one didn't have his number though, it said, "Go out with me after your shift is over?" underneath, it was signed,
"Your friend, Greg." He tapped the man sitting on the stool in front of him. "Can you pass this down to the bartender for me?" The man responded with a simple "Sure." and passed it down the line of people. He eagerly watched as the person in front of Liz reached out a hand to give her the note.

If she trashed the note, then he would simply have to wait until the bar cleared out or her shift ended, whatever one happens first. He was fiercely determined to spend time with her, get to know her a little better outside of this bar. If he had to keep bothering her for a year to get her to do something with him, he would.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Greg Character Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Brisbane

0.00 INK

#, as written by Ariki
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





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.”