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| Everything must go; Wanna get high? (Open) | |
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| Topic Started: Saturday, 15. February 2014, 04:06 (1,727 Views) | |
| Church | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 04:06 Post #1 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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So what we doing tonight Church? Whaddya think? Making that dollar. A long overdue and somewhat tedious task that needed taking care of, to cement my devotion to healthier, happier living. Which is kind of tricky with a closet full of narcotics and a phonebook full of sweet lil' things who'd love me to come over and pump 'em full of goodness...as well as drain it out. Mac doesn't so much take the edge off things than she takes the whole god damn cliff and smashes it on my head. Makes me stupid and satisfied, keeps these cravings to a minimum. My new addiction, though it might make me act more of a retard than the rest of the merchandise, to have a clear head instead of a constant downer was still as refreshing as the first time my system was shit-free. Still... Things are quieter than what I'm used to, what I'd like. The apartment lost the buzz of activity, the bizarre blend of southern voices chattering away about mindless shit that never mattered. Or at least it didn't to me until it was silenced so outright. A great majority of the people I know and love gone just like that, with promises that we'll meet up one day but, fuck, if I can't cling to that hope as much as I'd like. Something I've heard all too often from so many fucking people, and did they ever come back? Hell no. Flint is still lingering like the stinky fuckers tend to, but Aguirre is back in the homeland. I don't doubt that woman would come back...willingly. The not so willingly part worries me. Still, I've pledged that the door to her room won't open again unless it's by her hand. Or Mac gets drunk and goes the wrong way, but whatchya gonna do? Get high seems the logical choice, to fill that emptiness when my fuck buddy's all worn out. "Hey! You! Buddy." I call at a startled looking man who so clearly crossed the road so as not to be near me. "Wanna get high?" I don't disguise my delight at the sight particularly well. Maybe it's the stench of skunk burning away from the blunt clamped in my teeth, which I hoped would reel the suckers in. Then again, maybe it's the fact that I'm perched on a military looking box, face hidden beneath a hood and the feint buzz of music from headphones tucked away somewhere in the darkness. Being sat out in the middle of the street, my street, is perhaps not the most discreet way about doing this, but me and subtlety are like chalk and cheese. Being sat upon a giant case of narcotics right outside the building I live in is somewhat incriminating, especially when I invite every pedestrian passing to the same wonderful feelings stored away in the stainless steel container. It's like a fucked up yard sale, and brits being brits, I don't think they're trusting enough to buy drugs off a complete stranger, foreign at that, in plain sight. Might be a set up. Ok that makes me laugh. "No prescriptions necessary, someone just take this fucking shit, Jebus." The chuckle fades into a grumble to myself, drawing hard on the cigar-wrapped-fatty. Least I can still taste this shit, even if this is a huge waste of perfectly good cannabis. Then again, I put a few bags of that aside for the lady friend, along with a mixture of opiates, painkillers and sedatives for any future surgeries. The rest though, that shit needs to go, and I'd be appreciative if it could go quicker than this. Otherwise the crate's getting dumped on the door of the nearest police station and nobody wins. Cept Church. I always win. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 12:21 Post #2 |
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A life of Music
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Wasn't often she was in that part of town, but, hey, sometimes a change of scenery was needed and if nothing else, it really was a change of scenery. She'd also needed to get out a bit. The God damn stab wound was healing, but slowly, and occasionally hurt like fuck. Sure, she'd gotten some painkillers for it, but while she'd actually used them, as opposed to her usual approach of simply weathering through it, they had barely done anything to make the pain go away. At most they'd made her nauseous, and she didn't need that on top of things. And heh, sure, walking around at night after she'd already been assaulted once? Probably less than clever, but, she wasn't going to lock herself up in her apartment and hide away either. There was no way she was going to let them win by making her grow scared. Life was too short for that kind of thing, and if that bastard John hadn't managed to break her, then no way a couple of random thugs were going to either. Just... damn, she could do with a break. Hands tucked in her pockets, the worn leather jacket zipped closed and her equally worn military boots laced up tight for once, the brunette slowed as she noticed the figure sitting outside a building. The laughter and the smell rather obvious. Obvious enough that there was no way someone could be trying to use it as a set up, right? Even the cops were smarter than that. It would've been nice to sleep through a whole night... "What are you selling?" No, she didn't at all come across as the type who'd normally be looking to buy, but, not everyone had to look the part. Did they? |
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| Church | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 16:03 Post #3 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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For whatever reason, my eyes became infatuated with a little leaf trying to make its way across the road. It's trying god dammit, but the wind is thankfully not as brutal as it has been, and the fucker finds itself bumbling into the opposite curb over and over. Collapsing to the ground to quiver for a few moments...before plunging back into the concrete. Simple minds and all that. So simple that I didn't get a chance to shout at this newcomer, not really noticing her until she's already asking what's on the menu. I raise my green peepers to meet hers, shedding the hood for the moment (cause customers dig that whole trust thing) and seeing as she doesn't appear to be Jack or, even worse, my wife, it's all good. Hell, I'm surprised to meet a god damn Brit in this country. "Oooh...y'know. A little of this, little of that." I give her a smile to go with the cliché bullshit as I attempt to ruffle my hair back into some semblance of style, or at least something a little less wild than it usually gets. "Depends what kind of buzz you live for, honey. I got the light stuff and the not so light stuff. To be honest, even I don't know what I got altogether. You can pick yer poison and I've got something better." There is a lot in there - weed, E, painkillers. Few grams of coke, meth, even a few blobs of heroin tucked away. The crackle of music coming from my disused headphones sounds distinctly like something that could only be played by group with devil lock haircuts. It's the only noise I make for a few seconds observations, along with the drumming of some fingers on the container. A Brit, well put together, not seeming to be lacking in brains - or at least she seems to lack that dead eyed stare, the desperation shivers. She smelt weed and came a-calling. I'm probably gonna end up selling a nickel bag ain't I? "You don't look like a junkie." I say, almost like a question though it comes out like some sort of backhanded compliment. But seriously, what's the story? I'd rather unload my wares to Danny Dopehead and have him overdose than some pretty young thing. God damn what a difference a year makes. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 16:36 Post #4 |
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A life of Music
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He actually got a brief smile and a glance from brown eyes that had nothing of that dead stare that junkies often had. In fact, besides her clothes being slightly worn and not the most fashionable, she looked like she was in good shape. Athletic, healthy, she wasn't even wearing any make up by the looks of it. Just, an ordinary anybody really. At most, an anybody who looked a bit tired. "Just looking for something that'll let me sleep a bit" Cj shrugged her shoulders lightly, hands still tucked in her pockets. Heroin, meth, coke... No, she wasn't that desperate for sleep. but some painkillers that actually worked? That sounded rather tempting. Because at this point she was starting to wonder if some nerves had been damaged as the nagging pain had become a rather constant reminder of what had gone down that night. Of course, more likely, it was just the wound taking some time to heal. But she hadn't been stabbed before so she didn't exactly have anything to compare it to. And with any luck, she wouldn't get anything to compare it to either. Fucked up bad luck... "I had a run in with the pointy of a knife a little while back and the stuff the doctors got me on can barely kill a headache" she sort of chuckled, though that small gesture was quickly followed by a wince as her body protested. "So not looking for a high, just some pain relief" and since the doctors weren't inclined to give her a better prescription, well... fuck it. Not as if she was going to turn into a junkie over a few extra painkillers. Didn't even need more than what would let her get in a night or maybe two of decent sleep. Just something to let her recover a bit of energy. Because the doctor's recommended bed stay and rest wasn't going to work. Not when it was managing to bore her to death, seeing as she wasn't allowed to this or that or anything really. "What are those pills?" heh, maybe he knew, maybe he didn't. At least she hoped he'd have some general idea of what they were so she might have some idea as to their effect. |
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| Church | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 17:35 Post #5 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Oh. That sure makes sense. "Want me to take a look?" I asked in all seriousness before suddenly realising I'm not actually a doctor. Not qualified to do dicks. In fact I'm pretty sure Mac wouldn't have survived any of my procedures were she just a mortal. So no Church, do not ask the lady to show you the wound so you can go poking and prodding. Not to mention it just sounds fucking nuts. "Actually, better not. I, uh, used to be a doctor. They took my license though..." It is a license you have, right? Maybe that lie sounds well put together enough to be true...cept the fact that I'm a man in his late twenty something's with seemingly more tattoos than skin. To shift some uncomfortableness that I may have created, I step off my perch only to turn, kneel and unlock the container. I can confirm she ain't a junkie the way her face didn't light up looking down into this fucking treasure chest of goodies, and hell, I can't blame the girl for wanting a good night's sleep. I don't get that problem, but, I have enough trouble getting through the day, erm, 'waking' hours. "Well you came to the right place cause I don't stock shit that is good for headaches." I grin a little. Over the counter stuff wasn't exactly a great seller, so I only went for the best stock. "I got Demerol...Ultram. Vicodin. Percocet. What's this...stronger vicodin." I grab whatever brown capsule I can and read the label. I got a good understanding of what is good and what is bad; stronger drugs isn't exactly a good thing to someone like her. She looks good enough to not up and O.D. but you can never be sure. She might also find that the day ain't worth living without that fluffy warm feeling inside. "You can take your pick. It really depends on how much you're hurting. How bad is it?" Should we use a scale of one to ten? I feel a lot different than humans do. Definitely not getting out the Fentanyl, cause that shit is worrying. I look up at here from kneeling next to the box, aware that I clamped the blunt in my teeth the moment she showed up. Despite her earlier explanation of what she's after, I pluck it from my mouth and offer it to her. That's what I call good customer service. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 18:38 Post #6 |
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A life of Music
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At the mention of having a look at her wound she sort of chuckled, which again caused a slight cringe from the brunette as a hand slipped from her pocket to lightly touch her left flank after having wrapped her arm across her abdomen. No, she wasn't about to let some random guy in the street go poking around her injuries, thank you very much. And as for his claim of having been a doctor? Maybe he had been, maybe he hadn't. Her bet was on hadn't, but it didn't much matter since it wasn't any of her business. "Yeah well, thanks. The docs patched me up pretty good" they just couldn't do anything about the pain without putting her on heavier pain killers, which they were refusing to do. Either way, no poking around her insides by some back alley so-called doctor, thanks. Though, buying meds off said back alley doctor? Eh, there were plenty who'd consider that a shit idea too. But, her life, her choice. And if she was going to get any better she needed sleep so she could actually have a shot at recovering some energy and strength. She listened to him listing the things he had, not recognizing all of it but at least recognizing some of it. "Hurts enough that I haven't slept well for the last week or so! CJ said, rubbing her side slightly. "Vicodin, that sounds good" that sounded real good actually. And she knew what it was so she'd be able to figure out the right dosage too. "That ought to be good for giving me a few hours of sleep" the brunette said with a nod of her head, considering how much she might actually need for that. It wasn't as if she wanted to use the stuff regularly, just... "How 'bout enough to get me through two or three nights?" because whether or not he was a bit shady (which he was), chances were he might have a better idea of what she'd need. Even if she'd double check it before taking anything. No one needed to know anyway. Lynx would probably freak a bit if she told him. So, no telling the Irishman, that was for sure. |
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| Church | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 19:54 Post #7 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"My condolences. Getting stabbed sucks." I mutter as she seems to tweak the injury in front of me, even if my words weren't exactly doctorly. What doctor has 'good luck' tattoo'd on their knuckles anyway? A very bad one. On the other hand, Pharmacists can look like whatever the fuck they want, so why bother using some brainpower dwelling on it? She doesn't seem to wanna smoke, which is almost a shame with this good stuff burning away and no-one to really enjoy it. She wants Vicodin eh? Seems...appropriate I suppose. "It's tricky to say what would work best. Been a while since I last got stabbed. Longer still taking any of this stuff. Morphine might be a lil' much. It's kinda 'just one more shot' till your heart stops kinda stuff." All completely true, and yet spoken in a humoured southern drawl. "A week you say?" I bring a hand up to rub my beard, to demonstrate how much thought I am giving the matter. Myself? I'd take Percocet. But that's cause I would be after the buzz ontop of the wellness. Kinda funny ain't it? I know something that'll fix her up all nice and proper. Something she sure as shit will get addicted to and it ain't even in my trunk. Tomorrow that wound would probably stop giving her problems. A day later it would seemingly have vanished. Day after that, she'd be fucking wonder woman. No. That's a bad idea. "I think Vicodin will be just the ticket, honey. Lemme just see what we got here..." Cause there are differing strengths of this stuff, and I kinda can't remember which one is which, not to mention how many I've got. There is simply a cluster of dark brown capsules with poorly scribbled descriptions on their white labels. Not to mention different god damn serving sizes; simply put too many gorram variables for Church to be careless with. Or I could if I were feeling like more of a dick. She's pretty lucky about my mood I suppose, or that I learnt a few lessons about morality over the past few months. Still, maybe there's something more. I glance at her, briefly pausing my searching in this box of tricks to cock an eyebrow. "Don't take this the wrong way, but...you seem awful social for a person who got stabbed not long ago." Considering it takes balls or stupidity to come and speak with such a crazed chemist anyway. I'm kinda curious which it is. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Saturday, 15. February 2014, 20:38 Post #8 |
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A life of Music
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Yeah, morphine was too much and too risky if she was to be honest with herself. And with no interest in the actual high, merely the pain relief, she rather not go there. Besides, she wasn't a big fan of needles. And after the whole mess with her ex, well, she wasn't a big fan of drugs either. But she was trying to be careful. As careful as anyone buying painkillers off some random punk on the street could be. "Heh" the comment about her being rather social considering her bad luck was amusing. The smile said as much as she shrugged her shoulders lightly. He was right, perhaps she was rather social all things considered. "I'm not about to let some random shit heads get the better of me. Locking myself up and hiding? Fuck that. They don't get to scare me" maybe some would call it stupidity, she called it standing her ground and anyone thinking differently of it could shove it. "Life's too short to go hiding. No one has the right to do that someone" and if she, by some random chance, should ever happen to run into them again? Well, she'd make damn sure they got to regret what they'd done to her. Come to think of it, she was fairly sure she'd managed to break the arm of one of them. But what good did that do when the partner had slipped a blade into his hand while out of her line of sight. Either way, she'd pulled through and that's what mattered. And no one was going to get to scare her out of living her life. "Maybe that makes me stupid, but I don't much care" |
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| Church | Sunday, 16. February 2014, 01:53 Post #9 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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This one will do. Dosage is based on severity of pain...or size of the person? I don't really know what the hell the scale would be on either on the off chance I'm actually sound of logic. Regardless, let's go for the happy medium. Five-five hundreds, sure to take the edge off all niggling stabbing sensations. I palm the right capsule and give it a little shake to guess at its contents, the other still poking around to give things a look over best I can out here. Frankly, I dunno what's knocking around in here all together, but I was smart enough to take the gun out at least. I'm kind of listening to her wisdom about not giving a shit about getting stabbed. Well, phrased a little better, but bitch sure is ballsy as opposed to stupid. "Don't sound too stupid actually. I'm kinda the opposite is all. I hide most the time...and sure act stupid for the rest of it." I shrug without looking at her, instead closing the lid now that it's no longer required to be on display. "Cause hell if I felt like I was hiding, but the more I walked about, and the stupider I felt, more I realised that things were safer."Or felt things were safer. Meh, I ain't good at explaining this shit. "So yeah. Right on." Or whatever. I step upright, look at her and sort of nod my head in agreement with her comments. "Any allergies, medical conditions or current medication your on you wanna tell me about?" I try not to look pleased as I inspect the contents of the container in the yellow street light. But damn, I'm good - forever the professional and another satisfied customer to prove it. Provided I don't destroy her life in the process. Slim chance but still...I don't need no more bad karma. "If not, try one of these. Wait twenty minutes before taking another. That don't work, don't take no more. Don't work for some folk, just don't an' hell if I know why. That being the case...heh..." I gotta laugh a little, cause it's funny. If she comes back, she's definitely a junkie. "I'm sure I got summit else." |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Sunday, 16. February 2014, 14:40 Post #10 |
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A life of Music
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She watched him inspect the pills, checking which ones to give her. As it was? She was putting a whole lot more trust in some random drug dealer than she would've normally been comfortable doing. But, sometimes you just had to up and take your chances. The question about any medical conditions, allergies or medication she might be on though actually had her grinning for a moment. Seriously? Was he trying to make her laugh or was he being serious? She couldn't quite tell, but shook her head no, none the less. "No, nothing of the sorts" she hadn't even bothered to stick to the painkillers the doctors had given her because they didn't fucking work. So no point stuffing her body full of them if they did nothing, right? "I'm probably the cleanest customer you've likely every had" the brunette said, suppressing a chuckle that would've otherwise made her cringe again. "Well, except for the stab wound, but that's why I'm here" her one and only current medical condition, heh... for which she was now buying drugs off some random guy in the street. Oh, well... Sometimes life got weird. "And I'm sure this'll do. And don't worry, not going to test my luck with the dosage" CJ wasn't all that keen on trying to mix and match anything if she could avoid it. Although she had tried adding alcohol to the painkillers she was currently taking. It had mostly resulted in nausea. "How much?" she zipped open her jacket to reach inside. It was a good thing that unlike a lot of people these days, she still insisted on carrying cash. You know, for those rare occasions when dealing with someone who didn't take cards. Edited by Chrissie Johnson, Sunday, 16. February 2014, 14:51.
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| Church | Monday, 17. February 2014, 17:16 Post #11 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Price? Yeah, price. Now ordinarily I am ever the professional businessman; I made a living for a few decades shifting bigger amounts to scarier fuckers than her. Particularly in the states. Y'know, where everyone has a freaking gun and Church used to have a beating heart, and bullets would've caused major complications to my health. But that's irrelevant here. Cause I look at this girl and figure she could do with a break, that she could probably afford whatever label I stick on. I just don't need to. There's a dozen pills rattling around the bottle, give or take. I got a price per pill in my head, but, that's from a different time. Gotta put into consideration inflation, current economic climate...yadda yadda yadda. "Y'know what? On the house. Unless that seems insanely suspicious of me." I argue with myself, cause frankly, there's the problem that the man selling pills could have just given her a good old dollop of date rape. "Truth be told, I don't need money. I got plenty. Selling Mexican super meth will do that for your capital." That stuff was a couple hundred grand a pop, and that was done post 'pushing up the daises.' Shame I didn't get to keep all the money myself, that's why having a boss sucks. Now I'm self employed I'm just throwing the shit away. I figure she can take the truth because, well, she was the only person who bothered coming to give me some business tonight. And her reasoning was pretty legit. "I'm just looking to get rid of this stuff before I start abusing it again." I shrug, hopefully the honesty shines through these tired eyes. I always feel pretty pathetic talking about this addiction to anyone, so maybe she'll see that disgusted part of me surface. "An' that's why I'm getting rid of it. Like you said, Doc should've given it to ya'll anyway so...Unless you wanna pay? In which case...when you're feeling better, go visit your local blood bank." That was a joke but...now I'm thinking about opening a blood bank. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Monday, 17. February 2014, 17:34 Post #12 |
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A life of Music
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Now, while generous, it certainly wasn't the answer she was expecting to hear. Neither the part about not needing to pay nor the admittance of why he was getting rid of things. Not that she didn't buy that last part, in fact, it came across as fairly legit. But she surely would've expected to pay, heh, she even would've expected him to charge a bit extra just because he could've as she had no clue what the street value of the stuff was. Telling her it was on the house... Well, okay, so she got a bit suspicious, but that was basic survival instinct wasn't it? Didn't mean she wouldn't take it, but it did mean she'd be bloody careful about the stuff. "That does sound insanely suspicious of you, actually" CJ sort of smirked and gave a small shrug of her shoulders. " Though the rest makes sense" in as much as that she believed him. After all, who the fuck would up and tell all that stuff to a stranger to convince them to accept said drugs for free? If anything, it was a fairly bad sales pitch, because it sounded too much like a set up. Oh well, she was already out on a limb with the while deal so.. "Oh well, if I run into you again I'll buy you a beer I guess. And heh, yeah, I'll drop by a blood bank" why the Hell not. Edited by Chrissie Johnson, Monday, 17. February 2014, 17:42.
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| Church | Monday, 17. February 2014, 18:40 Post #13 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"You said life's too short. I got the opposite problem. I'm not all that old, but fuck, I feel it. What can I say? Misspent youth." It's not just the drugs that accumulated into this massive headfuck that I spent the last year diffusing, but it sure helped. It made me more susceptible to do shit I didn't wanna, made me push god damn nearly everyone away leaving me all alone. Of course there are a lot of things I did that have many reasons I did them. I could blame Pa, Jack, drugs and booze all I want, but I was the asshole who got manipulated by them. And I'm the asshole who gets to decide to stop that shit. "Everything in moderation, sugar. And when it can't be moderated, it needs to be stopped. Simple as." I'd rather not comment on the fact that I also don't touch beer anymore, primarily cause I reckon it would be a masquerade violation to talk about the stuff I've done without having my liver give in. Which reminds me. "Thing with those pills, they stuff em with Tylenol. It's not doing all the work of the pill, but it will destroy your liver if you take too many so...just so you know." As creepy and dangerous a situation this might be for her, with someone else - living or dead - it could be a whole lot worse. I'm glad things don't have to be like that, cause compared to a certain Christmas party I was at, she seems like the most sane person I've met in London. And even she is a little whacky. But she's seems accepting of what I'm doing, and that makes me smile, even if just a feint one. Church doing his good deed for the day. "So take 'em, see how things go. And if you ever need anythin' else, need to get high...or wanna give me that drink." that stretches my mouth a little wider. There sure is a drink I sure would accept. "I'm always around. Oh...by the way-" where on earth are my manners? I extend a hand. "-names Church." |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Monday, 17. February 2014, 19:41 Post #14 |
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A life of Music
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Misspent youth, heh, there were plenty who would argue she'd done the same thing, wasted part of hers. But the brunette had in reality done what she'd wanted to do, learned what she'd wanted to learn and gotten to experience a whole lot while doing so. And now? Well, she got to live her quiet (relatively anyway) life doing what she liked. So, fuck'm if people thought her choices had been poor. "I'll be careful about the stuff" again though, funny to be getting advice from him. Then again, he ought to know, right? At least if what he'd told her so far held a shred of truth. The fact that she believed it did was probably why she slipped her hand out of her pocket to take his. Her hands were well taken care of, with short manicured nails, though with skin that, despite the care she put into looking after it, had the tell tale signs of someone used to working for a living. "I'm CJ" she smiled in return, the mortal oblivious to what was going on in the vampire's mind. Which, in all fairness, was probably just as well. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Tuesday, 18. February 2014, 03:30 Post #15 |
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Who's next?
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Caitlyn was a little pent up. A bike ride usually served to chill her out but she'd been riding around on her black Harley with custom blue flames for an hour now wasting fuel and still stressed. It really was a minor thing to be stressed out about having to write a little letter. But the Torrie had cut herself off the intelligent bush when she dropped out of school, and the lovely Mr. Blucher would no doubt ask for her ass on a platter when he found out she'd recommended an Assamite to stay in his city. Fuck all! The girl was pissed off and pouty. She found herself in Enfield as it were, huffing it down the streets aimlessly. She knew her way around here. When she was younger Enfield had been slowly slipping to the chav's. Young fake thugs that were loud and obnoxious. But as she rode through the streets now it seemed the seeds had blossomed and taken over. Fantastic! She might not even need to hit up the George for her drink. Maybe she'd be lucky enough to score one off the street. She had to slow down a bit conveniently as it were to avoid running over some asshole pedestrians that decided now was a good time to cross the damn street. She ceremoniously flipped them off only to see the obvious drug dealer passing a bottle to an innocent looking woman across the street. She had her helmet on covering most of her face, but you really couldn't see her at all in the darkness that helped surely. She had to check this out though for one thing it looked like some genuine comic relief. For another, if he was legit and not an undercover cop she might be able to score her own stash to give to her meals. Street dealers were usually dodgy sons of bitches though so she'd have to employ a little bit of drug etiquette. She drove past them, around the corner and then circled back so she was on the same side of the street. She pulled over to the side and killed the engine a few buildings down to watch the exchange. She didn't take her helmet off though in case this shite went bad and she needed to bolt. She was grinning like a kid in a candy store while she heightened her sense of hearing. She had to channel some blood to do it and close her eyes to concentrate. This skill was proving really fucking hard for her to learn but she took every opportunity she could to learn it. She was rewarded by the faint yet familiar sounds of his voice. An offer for anything else, a bit of flirting and an introduction which her now opened eyes confirmed. Her brow perked up. This deal was just about done it seemed. She'd wait her turn though like a good civilized druggy. It wouldn't do to swarm the dealer and get him antsy or draw attention from the po's. She realized she might look a bit suspicious just sitting there on a bike waiting for something so she flipped her visor up and took out her phone. Pretending to fuck with it until it was her turn. Caitlyn was getting giddy, she had half a mind to follow the woman after the exchange and have a little nibble off what she had. She couldn't see her too well from this angle, but she wasn't an ugly girl from what her earlier view told her. She also didn't know what exactly she'd been given but it came with a warning and that meant it was right up Caitlyn's boat. Caitlyn wasn't dressed like a bimbo tonight like usual. She had been to the kine grocers, so she toned it down tonight, not to mention cover all the paint. She wasn't in a mood to be fawned over about it anyway. Her black designer jeans, chunky heeled leather boots, long sleeved blue shirt and short sleeved sweater hoodie completed her look. She actually looked a bit rugged tonight. Fit for a satirical bar hop and as it so happened a run in with a street dealer. Her clothes were tight to her frame though. It was obvious that she had a banging body underneath. Wearing
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| Church | Tuesday, 18. February 2014, 19:38 Post #16 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Nice to meet you CJ." I say, cause I suppose she's fucking delightful compared to the majority of the freaks running around. I take her hand with a deliberately weak grip, or as feeble as these rugged hands will allow, give her a brief shake before drawing away. My eyes drift to a motor bike that pulled up nearby, before returning back to her. Bit suspicious? MAkes me all too aware that we ain't alone. That my tummy isn't necessarily an issue yet. "Unless you're a cop and this is a ruse. That'd suck." I thought I better bring it up for some reason, just to maybe put her at ease with what I'm pushing and make myself seem a little bit more human. I figure I'll just scamper away like the tyke I am if the po-po actually come a-calling, but to seemingly show no fear or trepidation about shit going down might be an inclination that I am bigger and badder than I appear to be. Which if I do say so myself, I am. "I'd say tell your friends, what with all the shit I gotta get shot of, but, y'know..." I shake my head at the thought of hooking up your friends who have serious addictions destroying their body, mind, soul, whatever. But I cater to all sorts, and even sorts I didn't know about. "But it's all good, I promise. Medicinal quality, I dare say. If you ever get stabbed again - Hey you never know right?" As gruelling and arduous an ordeal that may have been for her, I'm being practical. People get stabbed. Doctors don't help them enough. I'm the opiate Samaritan. I notice I'm holding something and I remember the blunt I'd been artificially puffing on, regarding it for a second before placing it back between gripping teeth. I take my seat back atop of the box, occupying myself for a few seconds trying to find the lighter. "Anything else I can do for yah, sweetie?" Maybe you wanna actually try something else in this box? Hang around, take a toke on this fatty? Hell, maybe you'd be so kind as to invite me down a dark alleyway with you so I can chomp on that purdy neck of yours? I spark up, trying not to look at the flame as I do it, taking in a harsh amount of smoke before letting it slowly ooze out between my grinning teeth. Girl just got stabbed, so I'm making exceptions. She doesn't need to wake up tomorrow thinking something else horrible happened. Still, she walks down an alley with a guy like me, she fucking deserves getting bled. Just a little. |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Tuesday, 18. February 2014, 20:00 Post #17 |
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A life of Music
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"Nah, no cops. I've had enough of those" specially considering the last time she had a run in with them. Only narrowly avoided getting charged with attempted murder because of what the jackass whose head she smashed in, had raped her and beaten her half to death. Still, something to be said for stubbornness right? The fucker got what he deserved. Hadn't seen him since either, so, for all she knew he was still in a coma somewhere. Pocketing the bottle, the brunette threw a glance in the direction of the motorcycle, following his eyes. She only looked for a brief moment though, avoiding the slight frown that wanted to make itself known before shaking her head and turning back to Church. "With any luck? I won't. And if anyone tries that trick again, I'll at least be prepared" she might just have picked up a proper self defence knife and a fold out baton because those at least she knew how to use. Ah, having been stabbed once was a great incentive to avoid getting stabbed a second time. "So, thanks... but, yeah, you'll have to forgive me if I won't send any more costumers your way" CJ smiled at him as she took a step back. She didn't have that many close friends, and the few she had she rather not see go down that path. She trusted herself a bit more in that aspect, knowing damn well what she would and wouldn't do to herself. So, no, no trying any of the other stuff Church was pushing. She had gotten something that would hopefully be enough to give her a few good nights of sleep. That was all she needed and wanted. Giving him a small nod of her head, CJ turned to head down the street, opposite direction of the motorcycle. "Thanks for the help, big guy. Take it easy hm?" she meant it, he was helping her out. The brunette slipped her hands back into her pockets and seemed, with that, intent on leaving, simply heading down the street and away as her pick up was parked a few blocks away. Edited by Chrissie Johnson, Tuesday, 18. February 2014, 20:01.
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Tuesday, 18. February 2014, 22:54 Post #18 |
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Who's next?
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Caitlyn had waited patiently and was busily not being busy on her phone. The prior exchange looked like it was all finished up, but dammit if the girl wasn't going the opposite direction. That'd certainly make her look weird, walking past the dealer briskly to catch up with the potential prey. She'd have to resign that one, a muffled sigh blew into her helmet. Caitlyn shook her head overly as if confirming something on the screen and dismounted. She tucked her keys and her cell in her back pocket, a one shoulder black backpack was wrapped over her right shoulder and across her chest. Then she took her helmet off and latched it on the bike. Her short brown hair was disheveled under the helmet but it didn't matter as she'd slipped the hood of her jacket up. She made her way towards the suspected dealer, the vampire was blessed with the flush of a human but had to remind herself to breath still. She'd done so now, as it helped to not look like a predator. She had a long stride when she walked that was not a bit bouncy, oddly even keel actually, one foot directly in front of the other. Even though she wore chunky heels they didn't make much noise. The walk had been drilled into her until it was subconscious. Her shoulders were back and her chest high. She walked right up to him all confident and cute. Her hood was casting a few shadows over her face. She'd shoved her hands into the front of her hoodie once she turned to face him just to have some place for them to be. Her eye's still shown bright blue under the night sky though she'd had dark eyeshadow on both her upper and lower lids. It was just for dramatic effect on her end but it might have looked like she was using the make up to cover up something. A black eye? Swollen lids from lack of sleep? Well that was sorta true. A vampire didn't sleep so much as die every day. Still she was going to get some drugs and she was happy. A small smile drifted over her glossed pink lips before she spoke. "Hey there. Do you got a dime?" It'd be weird asking for a dime in London since she should've been asking for a pense. But she was of course looking for a dime bag of marijuana which she could smell from the cigar he was smoking. She shifted her hips a bit, putting more weight on one leg in case she was wrong and needed to bolt. Her pretty little eyes did bat a time or two while she looked at him expectantly. Otherwise she wasn't fidgety or weird. Just a tall beautiful lady looking to get her fix. Edited by Caitlyn Cummings, Wednesday, 19. February 2014, 02:59.
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| Church | Wednesday, 19. February 2014, 17:09 Post #19 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"You too, honey. Seeyah around." My index and fore finger are brought to my brow and flicked forward in some sort of homemade salute. As in, I commend you for your bravery, go home and chill the fuck out. I was almost tempted to sell her a switch blade but, meh, don't wanna get into trouble now do I? She seems...capable. She can at least run away, or so I'd gather from checking out the shape on her pins, even though my eyes might be fixed a little higher as she wanders away. For a moment I think I'm gonna go after her, follow her home and traumatise her some more for the sake of a sated hunger. I already told myself no, but I never was a good listener, so I'll just adhere to my good senses about how impractical it would be. Go hide the stash back upstairs, I come back down and she's gonna be long gone. Besides, I think that there may be some reason or rhyme to the machinations of the universe, some sort of intricate order we perceive as karma or fate that guides everything to where it should go. I turn my head away from CJ, and I'm surprised to have another figure wander into view. Slender, young, again a person who shouldn't be out this late cause, well, me. But this chicks different, more confident than CJ was, but then again, I'm guessing this chick ain't been stabbed. Sexually violated maybe. She keeps herself hidden away for the most part, though when clothes are clinging that tight, you rarely got anything to hide. Though as she asks me for a dime in yet another of those dreamy Brit accents, whatever smile was fixed to my face just grows that bit wider. I'm so glad people can't hear my thoughts. "A dime? No problem, sweetie." I'm polite, but cautious. I would expect more from someone coming out this late than to pick up such a small amount. A dime too, how it reminds me of home, even if I ain't sold ganja in a good long while. Not a great deal of money in it, y'know, and it would've been helpful if I already weighed the shit out. She was on the bike wasn't she? Shit. Again, my mind can flit to the police shutting down my operation, but I'm pretty sure no swine ever looked this good...which is why I can almost buy it. She looks like the kind of person who could get hooked on harder stuff, but given how her body wasn't tense or shaking...I dunno, there's something there I can recognise but not put my finger on. I'm a little confused. So for the moment, I might wanna just stay sitting on this box. "At the risk of sounding like one of them 'pushers', you sure it's just a dimebag you're after, honey? No offence, you look like more an 'upper' than a 'downer' girl." Hell, I'll do my job and give her what she asks, but I feel like I'm making a legitimate claim. I can only see a glimmer of pretty blue eyes, but she strikes me as the kind who loads up on ecstasy, dances most of the night, fucks for the rest of it. Then again, maybe she's just asking cause she can smell it. "But I can sort you out, no worries. Just...don't be afraid to ask. Got plenty of tricks up my sleeve, so to speak, but hell, it's your body."I shrug. Cause I'm starting to sound like a pusher. One thing with drugs, you never should need to push them on people. I hold out the smoking cigar, offering it to her before I crack this back open. It'd also prove she's not a cop...right?...maybe? |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Thursday, 20. February 2014, 05:05 Post #20 |
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Who's next?
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Caitlyn shifted her weight to her other foot. She knew she wanted more than a dime, hell's bell if the girl didn't want to walk away with everything he had. Transportation of that would be... difficult. Bike and all, just a backpack, nah wouldn't work. She did want ecstasy though that was her drug of choice, but when Jen had that joint before the ecstasy, it made the E kick in so much faster. She had definitely enjoyed that roll, and the near endless playtime afterwards. But Caitlyn wasn't an innocent when it came to drugs, thanks to the curse of Caine and the blessings of youth she didn't have the signs of a normal drug addict. Just a pretty little vampire that got her druthers sticking her fangs into real addicts. A second hand high was the best she was going to get anymore. Caitlyn twerked her left shoulder up and down quickly. He'd definitely had the measure of her, a good dealer could usually tell. "You're right, you know lovey." She giggled and took the offered cigar that held her requested drug. "Awful nice of you to let me toke first. Cheers!" She took a decent drag of it, and passed it back, letting the smoke marinate in her dead lungs a bit. From what she could tell it was damned good. She shouldn't be wasting it like this but it helped with the illusion so what the hell. The torrie let the smoke out in a thin line from her plump lips. "Good shite, I might be convinced to get more than that. But I usually take it to help the E kick in faster, and it helps the train from crashin' if I toke a ton when the rides commin down. I didn't know if you were legit or not, thought I'd start small keep myself outta too much trouble. It's been years since I had a dealer just straight on the street, I was fuckin amused when I first eyed you and that other chick." She giggled and studied his face for his reaction. It would be super fucking helpful if she'd actually learned Auspex. She might be able to tell if he was hiding something or if he was leery of her at all. But oh well she had to work with what she had right?! So she threw a little bit of Presence [Awe] on him for good measure. She might be able to get the shit for free. Hopefully Jen would be happy about the stash, hell even if she wasn't it'd make Caitlyn's other conquests that much easier. "So what other tricks do you got? I'm definitely down for some E and a lot of it. I could fuck with some meth too." I could fuck ON some meth, would have been the more accurate statement. She gave him a flirty wink and fixed her lips in a cheeky grin. Yeah she was putting it on a bit. Dealers seemed to be more generous when a pretty girl flirted. Edited by Caitlyn Cummings, Thursday, 20. February 2014, 05:11.
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3:14 PM Jul 11