Latest Posts by withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Page 3

Glancing over at the male sitting near him, he curled his nose a bit. Adjusting his head back against his backpack as he was trying to silence the crowd around him again. But those few seconds of sleep had seemed to be all he would be getting, all his mind was going to allow him for the moment. Listening to the other reply to him, he continued to keep his eyes closed for a bit, before turning his face into his hand and just staying like that for a bit before moving to sit up, “If you wanted to.” He wondered if that meant he was not making himself much of a target. Which was clearly good, given he was so easy to fall asleep in such an open and public space, amongst a crowd, “Maybe- but I doubt you would have found anything of worth besides a couple of hundred in cash.”

Which he wasn't willing to kill a man over, so he'd just let it be taken and enjoyed his nap. Staring at the other's neck, he wondered just how easy it could have been done while they were preoccupied with their petty thieving. Then, he blinked and looked away, bringing his left hand up to massage his temple as he pushed those errant thoughts out of his mind. Those weren't really his. Or, he thought, was so unlike him. Or was it? Azazel moved to sit up, “You could say I'm living my life on the razor's edge, I guess?”

Levi found himself taking a smoke break pretty often, not even due to the stress at this point. It was just habit. He figured he'd be a little polite and take a break near a bench. Though it felt like everyone smoked nowadays. He watched a couple head towards a booth, shaking his head. "Fuckin' suckers." He muttered under his breath, forgetting that he was in public. Honestly, Levi was just talking to himself, which he did a lot. it probably made him seem a little bit crazy to others. "That's what everyone says. But y'know, ain't nothing wrong with sleeping. Might not wanna do it 'round here. If I wanted to, I could've taken whatever was in your pockets."

With his eyes barely opened, he looked at the other as she spoke after clearing her throat. Azazel exhaled before opening his eyes and darting them around the space around them, sure he wouldn't get any sleep now. Tucking a hand under his head, he pressed it against his backpack he had tucked under his head, and listened to the other, closing his eyes for a moment more before starting to push himself up. Sitting, he slouched, before bending at his waist, bringing his right hand to rub his right eye, a yawn leaving him as the request penetrated his ears. He should say 'no', he didn't know her, it would have made sense.

But as he looked up at her again, he got a slight sense of the little sloth, even if just in part. Resting his head in his right hand, he mustered up a grin, trying to rest his right elbow against his right leg, but that only made everything more uncomfortable. So, instead, he sat up straight again, leaning against the back of the bench he had come to rest on. It was a strange request. But he supposed he could entertain it, or a little while, even if his paranoid mind was lighting up with all sorts of red flags. It did that regardless, making it hard to focus on the real ones, from the ones he might be gaslighting himself with.

Regardless, Azazel took a deep breath, rubbing his hands for a moment against his thighs and then forced a grin, trying to hide how nervous he was deep down, “Sure! Why not? You're not wrong, I suppose-” Pausing, he looked around, regardless of his internal thoughts, it was still true, it was lonely in the crowd. He had known this better than he would like to admit, being alone in a crowded room, having been a place he resided often. Taking his backpack, he stood and pulled the straps over his shoulders, patting the bottom of the pack, adjusting the contents inside. Then he moved his hand quickly out in front of him, gesturing for the other to lead the way.

marisol had always loved halloween. the spookiness, the fun tricks. at westbeth, they used to have trick or treating, but musical. where you had to hum a tune in order to get candy. this wasn’t westbeth, but it was her new home. Browsing the stalls, she found a few trinkets that caught her eye, that she picked up along the way. after a while, though, she felt loneliness creeping up inside her, and she knew she couldn’t brave this alone.. coming to a bench, she noticed someone sleeping, and quietly cleared her throat. “not to interrupt your rest,” she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head, “but i was wondering if you wanted to hang out, together? it’s kind of lonely being out here alone, surrounded by people. i get that's kind of an oxymoron, but, hang out with me? please?" wow, way to sound desperate, solly.

I am a human being, capable of doing terrible things.

At the voice demanding something of him, he opened his eyes a crack, glaring slightly at the rudeness of it, before giving his excuses. Afterward, however, the narrowed gaze remained. Azazel wondered what some people had against sleeping outside, it wasn't that bad. Clicking his tongue, he moved to sit up and looked around as Hux went on. Not really concerned with the danger, he moved to stretch and laughed hollowly, “If it's dangerous in the middle of the day, I'd hate to see how dangerous it will be when the night comes.” He wasn't too concerned with direct danger at the moment, though. No one would be stupid enough to propose many issues at this time of day. If they did, the knife in his backpack might help dissuade them. Crossing his arms over his chest, he's sitting, slouched, against the bench and watching Hux.

“What danger do you see right now? Hm?” Quirking an eyebrow as he asked this, he wanted to know what the other might consider a danger in the afternoon, to someone snoozing on a bench, crowded by people as they made their way from one booth to the other. Though he wasn't so ignorant as to not realize that, if someone intelligent were to attack at this time, with this crowd, they could very easily slip off. But still, the odds weren't likely, as he had nothing worth stealing, anything that could be stolen, he considered, was maybe a handful of Benjamins, and little else. Which he wasn't too concerned with losing. Azazel held his gaze intensely on Hux, before he continued, “Well? Where's the danger? Is it in the crowd around us today?” He teases a bit.

Of course, he wasn't silly enough to not factor that, percentage-wise, there had to be many dangers in the crowd with them, that day, or any other day, really. But, he was aiming at a more direct target of threat, possibly Hux himself, for even having brought it up in the first place. Azazel's gaze held, dark abyssal pools, staring back at the other, watching Hux intently. Waiting for the others' answer.

Easy food is always appreciated, specially after fate decided to keep other people coming this way for some reason. Hux was just an animal, he had no problem on accepting that, but as the apex predator, he still had some sort of control.

If there's something Hux is good at is at remembering faces; trauma built him that way and there's some recollection of seeing this person around the strip. Call it a sudden rush of benevolence or the idea of crippling guilt, but he knew that if he was there, others with way less decorum could or would be here soon. "Hey. Wake up". Voice deep and and intense unblinking stare, one could've swear there was a strange glow in his eyes for an instant as he towered over the other resting on the bench. "Shouldn't be sleeping here. It's dangerous. Go home".

Having not been asleep for long, if much at all, the moment had passed him by with the voices nearby. Moving to sit up on the bench, Azazel leans back against it, sliding down more to get a little more comfortable. Yawning then, he brought a hand up before moving to stretch out a bit, raising his arms over his head and holding them as he stretched his spine a little. Then, dropping his arms back to his sides, he lifted his left hand to unhook his sunglasses from his shirt, which hung by one of the temples at the hinge. He places them on his face, covering his eyes, and turned his head toward Willow, then the child they were sitting next to, for a moment. Before looking again back to Willow, a grin formed over his lips, “Wasn't much of one, to be honest.” He replied, the grin gone in a second, before he looked away again.

At Willows' further comment, he nodded, not saying anything for a long moment before replying with a, “Yeah, but I'm not in those places, I'm here. Shopping, I guess.” Moving to grab the backpack he brought with him, he brought it closer to him, looking around the crowds of people that continued to flow through the afternoon from booth to booth. An uneasy feeling washing over him, his skin began to feel a little prickly, turning his head, he faced Willow once more, “Having a prosperous day shopping? Enjoying the spooky event?” He asked, again looking between the two who sat near him, before looking away again. He could have sworn someone was watching him. Somewhere.

what more could a socialite ask for? the usual glitz of las vegas was replaced by something darker, stranger, and entirely more theatrical. the streets shimmered with a strange kind of magic, part carnival, part nightmare; costumed strangers mingling in the crowd, lines growing at the vendor booths as people were eager to get their hands on spooky sweets or odd little treasures. and while willow loved the noise and the novelty, nothing compared to meadow’s joy. sweet, wide-eyed meadow, practically vibrating with excitement as she looked upon the chaos with the kind of wonder only children possessed. her laughter bubbled up every time a monster waved at her, or someone dressed in a tacky vampire costume jumped out at someone else; let the ghouls and goblins roam — so long as meadow was enchanted, it was perfect. letting go of the little girl’s hand as she hopped up onto the bench to eat her spider candies, willow tucked a few loose strands of pink behind her ear, not concerned with the other who’d taken up the empty space beside them, until— “are they sleeping?” meadow asked. “hm. looks like it,” willow answered. oh! not anymore, it seemed. “don’t mind us, we’re just crashing your snoozefest a little,” she quirked a brow at the other, more curious than anything else. “there are better places to sleep, y’know.”

@boneyardstarters Location: Weekend of Horror Booths Date: April 27, Afternoon Cap: ♾️

It had been such a long and exhausting weekend. He just wasn't finding the joy he usually would have in these kinds of things, which made it all the more tiring, he gathered. Reaching out a hand toward some items at a booth he was currently looking around in, he ran his fingers delicately along the tops of some items, frowning as he realized he couldn't feel happy or excited about any of it. He felt nothing at all at the moment. Pulling his hand away in a sluggish manner, he turned and left the booth, wanting to find anything that could inspire some amount of joy in him. But only found himself becoming more exhausted as he passed several booths. It was later in the afternoon, but he felt like he had been up for hours. For the most part, he had been. Coming to sit on a bench, he absently moved to curl up on the empty space and quickly started to drift off. Even though it may not last a long time, he managed to doze off for a moment before a voice directed at him suddenly had him jolting back awake, “No- I wasn't-… I wasn't sleeping. I was just resting my eyes.” Azazel muttered in response as he lifted his head and looked around.

Vampires burn up in the light of the Sun. Not any other Suns, just the one.

NASA scientists theorize this is because vampires committed an affront towards the Sun many eons ago, and the reason we haven't encountered extraterrestrial life is because they're all vampires.

I saw somebody. Maybe it was your fairy godfather.

Whatever source it was that drove the universe forward conspired against him, that he was certain of upon opening the door to find the other standing on his doorstep. Azazel narrowed his eyes, thinking that if he believed in any god or higher power, he would fight them upon his death, which was his highest calling at this point. Glancing down to the ground, he moved his right arm up, resting it against his door frame before bringing his forehead to rest on his forearm, the sweat coating his body at that moment, accumulating enough in that spot to have a drop fall from his arm a moment later, muttering under his breath as he did.

He did need a drink, and the medicine he was on to numb the pain long enough he could pass out so comfortably onto the floor for, at least a short while, in some brief moment of absolute bliss, he supposed. Going by his drool that still remained on the floor. It didn't need to be five, however, to get that drink or otherwise. That was his current lifestyle at the moment. Which is why he had just kept the arrangement with his sibling to take his son in for the time being while he worked on all of this. Laughing a bit, he pulled his head up from his arm and looked at Sévérine, feeling a little unstable for a brief second before catching himself. Clearing his throat, he dropped his arm from the door frame and leaned against it instead, “I guess they don't know about Girl Scouts where you're from, neighbor.” Hell, he thought, that had to be where the other was from.

Azazel takes in a breath before continuing, when the other made a demand of him, “Do I look like a fucking grocery store to you?” Apparently that's what he was now. His jaw clenching, however, he reminded himself not to cause waves, all manner of people lived on this street, who were most likely spying on him. No, most certainly were. Though his paranoid state of mind at the moment wasn't just causing him stress, he wasn't dealing well with, but anger, he wasn't dealing well with. Not only this, however, but intrusive thoughts, especially in this moment. His imagination, conceptualizing great atrocities he could be committing on this neighbor, if he were just to snap right then in there, in a fit of rage. He wondered how the rest of the neighbors might react at the scene he could be causing right now. But, he steeled himself to those notions, shrinking again as a wave of nausea started to rise from his gut, “Sure. Fine. Whatever.” He didn't understand that last bit, and he didn't want to.

Pulling away then, he made his way toward his kitchen, not bothering to close the door. As if it were an unconscious invite to 'try him' on his rising intensity and dip into greater madness. Coming up to his fridge, he yanks it open and drops into a crouch, reaching out toward his container of eggs, pulling it out, opening it, taking two, and replacing it back as it was before. Though, he paused, staring absently at the eggs as another bout of errant emotions suddenly bombarded him. Breaking down a bit, his eyes filled with tears, soon enough spilling over and trailing down his face, an unhinged sob left him, almost making him sound like he was laughing, maybe giggling from the distance he had been at.

Bringing the back of his hands to his eyes, he thought, briefly, how stupid it was to be sobbing over fucking eggs, of all things. But that's not really what he was crying about. After the briefest moment of that, he took a few deep breaths, trying to control these emotions with his breaths. Once he did, he wiped away the remaining wetness on his face and searched his cabinets for the sugar, “Get your shit together, focus, no one cares if you're fucked up. You have to control your shit.” He told himself under his breath, seeing another package of sugar as he did, he grabbed it before making his way back to the front of his house. As he came to the door, he put up his best smile he could muster at that moment toward Sévérine, “You're in luck, I have the stuff.”

Sévérine wasn't the type to stir the pot between familial demons that would circle one another in a spaghetti Western gunfight at sundown no matter what he did. What was there to gain from something that was inevitable? If anything, long as he stayed out of it, he didn't see himself reaping the bloodshed. However, that didn't mean that the on-call translator thought it frivolous to always play by the book of no contact, and even in a city as big and bold as Las Vegas, one was bound to run into their mortal enemy. Life was full of impossible standards, like the saying that microwaves gave people cancer. ( Not so funny joke now, in retrospect, but the French native seldom made out like anything bothered him at all and laughed hollowly at the joke, nonetheless. No one was getting past his defenses unless they were going to pry him open with a crowbar. If it was going to be the Vitellis, though, he'd like to think he wouldn't give up trade secrets. Maybe. If they brought out an electric razor to his hairline, he'd reconsider that argument. Hey, it was hard work to grow it back. ) Thus, after weighing the odds, he couldn't say definitively that he was there on innocent terms, but neither was he intentionally playing the part of gambling with fire.

"...It's five o'clock somewhere?"

The brunette didn't exactly understand the query, raising his eyes to take note that the squeezed orange colors of the desert sky were certainly present. "Hm. Funny." For once, he didn't have a smart-mouthed quip in return; maybe he wasn't looking to take shrapnel to the throat, after all. Lifting his chin slightly, a hand fussed with the rim of his beanie. "Sugar. And two eggs." For what? Well, that was none of anyone's business, regardless of where he hailed from; it didn't pertain or award itself a positive result to the questions are you making meth or are you attaching something to someone's mailbox that might combust. "...S'il vous plaît."

“All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it?—I don't know.” -Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human, 1948.

Hearing the little voice, Azazel paused in his stride, turning his head, he looked down, cold brown eyes staring down intensely at the small child as she spoke up to him, wondering why she was out here at a place like this, alone. Instantly, that coldness melted as he was reminded of his own son, of similar age, he supposed, to this little girl. He glances away then, playfully, “Oh I just might!” Expressively, he brought a hand to his chin, his index, and thumb forming into a check mark-like form under it, “Well Marceline, as an artist myself, how could I say 'no' to such a polite request?” Bringing his free, left hand, to his hip, he moved his right hand from his face, only to stop playing the moment Lyonet came stumbling out.

His coldness returned as the girl's mother came out, “It was nothing. She wasn't bothering me.” He replied to the girl's mother, leaning his hip more into his left hand, slouching slightly as he huffed out a slightly amused breath as Lyonet called the little girl a custodian, “Oh.” Azazel mumbled. After Lyonet told him it was just a joke, he quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn't tell.” He remarked with the smallest trace of a sarcastic tone in his voice. Azazel turned his head away, staring elsewhere for the moment as the other went on, “Alright, then, what can you help me with while you're stuck in business limbo?” He asked before looking back to Lyonet once again, before pausing to think for a moment, “Not really much for community service, actually.”

But, letting out a breath, he realized he needed to distract himself, anyway. Staring at Lyonet, he knocked his head toward her, prompting her a bit with a, “What kind of stuff are you guys still needing help with?”

@boneyardstarters lyonet + ??? : april 10, skratch records @ mid-morning cap : ∞

mix-ups with mars' school schedule typically didn't result in this kind of catastrophe. alas, there lyonet was, harboring her seven year old on the front steps of her workplace, all because she had neglected to remember it was a fucking teacher work day. she had resumed her pesky habit of inhaling snow every weekend, and prior to that she was relatively adept at arranging comfortable boarding for her daughter. however, that was before she swore reina to secrecy upon her relapse being unveiled and very callously reminded the kitchen witch exactly how fortunate she was to be entrusted with mars' care: 'at least i still have custody of my kid' may or may not have been uttered; which, of course, was enough guilt that would stick with reina for the remainder of her natural life. digressing, it was far too late in the day for lyonet to unload mars unto her older sister, so, the little girl was now a temporary employee of skratch records. at least, the bare bones of it. while lyonet idled inside and hid from the major renovations, mars manned the front curb. it didn't occur to lyonet that her very outspoken child would attempt contact with a wandering stranger until she heard her daughter's squeaky little voice say: hi, i'm marceline! but everyone calls me mars, or marcie, or mar. we're not open yet. do you want to help paint? quickly, lyonet stumbled off the step stool she was on while clumsily painting and scrambled out front, converse skidding on the concrete. "alright, miss mars," she cleared her throat loudly as she plucked her daughter up off the ground. "sorry about that. she's just our custodian," she joked halfheartedly. "that was a joke. kind of. can we help ya with something? we're, uh, not quite off the ground yet, but... we've got fresh lemonade if you wanna help out."

AVAN JOGIA as Johnny Johnny & Clyde (2023)

Narcissistic Cannibal - EarlyRise (Cover of a Korn song)

Reminder: you can't kill them in any way that matters.

@soulsuckcr Location: Stargazer Villas Time: April 11, late afternoon.

Standing out in his backyard, spraying down a lush lawn with plenty of beautifully placed plants. As a biotechnologist with a keen interest in gardening, of course, he had a very well-taken care of and curated, beautifully maintained lawn. It was calming, honestly. Given everything else in his life entirely falling apart.

He looked between his neighbor's houses, not thinking Alice was a good one to go to. Moving the hose to one side, he imagined that he had probably offended her with his abrupt dismissal of her from his house. Sighing, he knew he had to make up for it at some point. But it was for the best, he told himself. Excusing his awkward behavior. Though he looked at the other homes in the neighborhood. Moving to one of his potted plants, he picked one up, examining it before muttering that he had too much of it and would give it away.

A little bit later, he was knocking on Seokmin's door loud enough that he had to guess that there was no way he wouldn't be heard. Still, even, he rang the doorbell, just in case. “Come on. Come ooon. Be home.” Azazel muttered to himself before lifting his hand up to start knocking again, one more time before he'd just give up for now and try again later. Maybe at midnight.

@naiveete

Getting up from his spot at the lounge, he moved back to the bar, taking a seat as he waited for someone to take his next drink order. He slouched, leaning more onto his left side as he rested his head in his left hand, enjoying this little moment of bliss he was having, one of the few he could manage to grasp since returning.

Was this a smart decision? No. It was late, later than he might have liked, since he would have to walk home alone, and risk the same thing happening. But he was being careless about that potential. Not wanting to think of, well, anything stressful at all, he opted to ramble, “Did you know-” He started, half just starting to talk to his neighbor, having not really tried to talk to them at all, “Small pockets of air inside cranberries cause them to bounce and float in water...Cool, right?”

@ghxstadventvres

Lighting up a cigarette, Azazel takes a few puffs from it as he lets the end burn for a moment in the flame before cutting the flame off and tucking the lighter back into a pocket. He was currently standing outside the gas station, not a fan of driving, he usually walked around wherever he went. Which he wasn't much of a fan of that either, here lately.

Taking a long drag off his cigarette before he casually moved his hand away to adjust his sunglasses, hiding as much as he could, the dark circles that currently made him look like he hadn't slept in a century or more. Exhaling as he toyed with his glasses, smoke loomed over his head. Securing them more onto his face as he scanned the area. He had no real destination, he didn't even like being out like this, in the open. But it was the middle of the day, so he figured that the worst that could happen at this time was-- Okay, well, a lot of things, yes.

But he imagined that most of those things he'd manage to survive long enough to get home before night hit. But even then, he didn't think he was safe. His breathing picked up for a moment, and he had to calm down. Closing his eyes, he told himself it was all just in his head, and he was overreacting to his own imagination. Yes. That was all it was. Or all he wanted to believe.

Checking his watch, he started to walk away from the gas station, only to get a cold chill up his spine. Turning, he looked around, not seeing anyone even looking at him. Though, a few people were walking to or from their cars. Maybe he should start driving again, it was too nerve-racking to be out in the open like this. Even still, he couldn't help but to feel like someone was watching him. But he felt like that a lot lately.

Of course, he wasn't privy to knowledge he missed during his long disappearance, which he was annoyingly being hounded about here and there since his mysterious return. So he wasn't so much pointing out to her that it was there. Though he was preemptively warning her, due to others having great observation and seeing the stains whilst they came to hound him about what happened to him. Why the stains were there, and where he had gone. All of which, he really didn't answer. Or lied about. As he was coming back to her, he noticed Alice stepping back out from his doorway.

Holding the package of sugar out to the other then he offered a smile to his neighbor, trying not to let his internal turmoil fog his overall masking. There was a lot he had to hide, and he couldn't let even the next-door neighbor see too much, “Dogs. Am I right? They find one stick in the yard and just have to maul it. But I can hope she won't run full force into the door again.” He sighs and decides this is a better lie than anything. If she didn't know what was going on, she didn't need to know. So he nodded at what Alice had to say and shook his head, “No. Keep it. I don't think I'll be using it any time soon. Better to be used than continue to sit on my shelf.” Shrugging at this, he thought, just for a moment, it was odd she even offered to bring it back? She was trying to poison him, he guessed. Well, he wasn't going to let her get the chance. He winces a bit, turning his head away at the invasive thought, and scrunched his nose, “Well, bye.” He closes the door on her and as he goes back into his house.

A moment later, he peeked out at her from the blinds to make sure she was leaving his property. Hopefully, before anyone thought too much about her presence on it. Once he was sure he was in the clear, he pulled back and tugged the curtain back into place to cut off the world again. Bringing his right hand up to his lip, he nibbled at his index fingernail, pacing as he muttered under his breath about what she was really there for. But took in a deep breath upon recognizing that she hadn't taken him up on his offer to come inside, so she couldn't have had any ill intentions, right? “Of course not. She's just some random neighbor who needed sugar, that's all.” He whispered to himself. Again, he checked through the blinds to see if she was gone.

I was just getting ready for work, actually. She nodded, thinking to herself that she didn't really believe him but that it also really didn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things. Sure, there were certainly times where Alice was terrible at not minding her own business but this wasn't one of them. Whatever Azazel was up to, it really didn't concern her. Honestly, she wasn't even sure she knew where he worked but why would she? They were simply friendly neighbors, saying hello to each other in passing. Really, she was the one that looked silly--who doesn't check if they have enough sugar before they fucking bake?

When he half-heartedly invited her in, she hesitated for a moment. She was sure he was harmless but she couldn't be fully certain. She did step through the threshold, but only a foot inside the house, her eyes glancing to the dark stains that he'd drawn attention to. She felt her stomach lurch a bit and while he was in the kitchen, she stepped back over the threshold, preferring to wait outside. She didn't think she wanted to know. When he came back, she put a sweet smile on her face. "Thank you so much, you're a life-saver! I'll bring the rest back once I'm done," she said, reaching out for the bag of sugar. Though, privately, she wasn't sure if she'd even do that.

At the question, Azazel just narrowed his eyes a bit. He didn't have time for this level of stupidity, right now. Maybe it was because he had been gone for such a long time, and had only recently been going back to drinking at places that weren't his house. But, still, he stood silently in front of the other. Thinking that, this, this was someone who would be a great reason for why he hated listening to people talk, “Yes.” Azazel finally answered to having the 'usual'. His eye contact maintained on the other's own gaze, intense, as if he might be challenging the other to say something else just as abysmally stupid as what was just said. Azazel could only imagine it wouldn't take long, and he was right. Because, as Cyrek continued, he could only imagine at this point, just to annoy him, he stood quiet. Listening to what the other said, almost against his will. Tapping his fingers tips on his hands against the surface of the bar, he dropped his head down, sucking in a breath, “No? And, I don't fucking care right now.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. Lifting his head back up, he put on a grin, his head tilting slightly. Blinking, he continued, “They should put you on the case. We'll have it solved a lot sooner, I'm sure.” Maybe he should have toned it down, he told himself. He was simply just on edge, for a multitude of reasons, and Cyrek's yapping, considering their history, wasn't helping level off that edge he was on, “Mmm.” That was all he could initially offer to Cyrek, bringing up the month's specials, suddenly feeling exhausted. Inhaling, he glanced up, considering some thoughts before suddenly turning his head, then looked back to the other just as quickly. Azazel looked at the sheet that was now on the countertop and frowned, “I, hate, all of these.” He commented, unkindly, expressionless. Then placed his left hand on the sheet and pushed it back toward Cyrek. Only to bring his left hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Sure, okay. Okay. Thank you. Just, give me the usual, the hardest stuff you have. None of that crap you're peddling on that sheet. I need something that would let me breathe fire, or that could run a car.”

@boneyardstarters at the mean-eyed cat bar

After giving a PTA mom a covert look of judgment for ordering a Bloody Mary, of everything on the menu of specials, and scraping some asshole's tip in change off one of the booths and side-eyeing the coins to count them rather than look directly into the ugly mug of old George Washington, Cyrek was ready to give his attention to a regular at the bar who wasn't bitching and moaning into his deaf ear. "The usual, or you want somethin' else?" A pair of mismatched eyes hovered over their shoulder to stare at the newscasting of the latest about a victim with no blood and guts, and Vegas' finest doing really fuck-all beyond spinning their heads. "You hear the news? Bet they got no idea who it is this time, either. You'd think they would've pinned down a frequent spot and staked it out or whatever." As if the MC needed the potential for a detective to breathe down their neck more than one already was, but he digressed; small talk about local happenings keyed him up to where they should avoid, and the rumors circulating around. "I got this month's specials out now, too." Reaching under the bar to slap down a laminated sheet for some Boozy Bunny or carrot juice-infused cocktails, the latter of which reminded him of when he'd pureed the vegetable into baby food with a pot and a processor. "Unless someone gets mowed down by a guy in a bunny suit next and we gotta put those on hold, too."

this was honestly so frickin HOT

As he finally caught sight of who it was that was at his door, he blinked away what remained of his sleep. His neighbor, Alice, he didn't imagine to be much to fret over. Until recently, glancing to one side, a few errant thoughts sprang to mind as to why she would be knocking at his door. Momentarily, his overthinking going to the worst, his heartbeat speeding up, he tapped a finger to his door knob, trying to put all his concern in that one part of him, appearing relaxed from Alice's point of view, “Oh. Right.” Azazel answered before looking back into his house, trying to remember if he had anything like that in his house. But of course he did, sugar seemed to be a standard in households, “No. You're not. I was-” He pauses, what was he doing? Napping in the middle of the day? It sounded like he was some kind of bum if he gave that answer, “Just getting ready for work, actually.”

He paused again to yawn again and pulled back from the door, waving her in, “Come in, or just stand there, I'll see what I got.” He then answered as he made his way to the kitchen, “Mind the mess, I'm waiting for the cleaning service to get here.” Azazel warned of the dark stains at the entrance to the house, before he disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of a couple of cabinets opening for a moment. Then he came back out, holding a pack of sugar, “Not even opened.” Though he couldn't say how long it had been in his cabinets, either. Whatever got her away from his house quickest, before anyone could see her, seemed to him to be the best way to go about this. Given the circumstances about the other.

Alice felt quite silly but in the midst of baking the cupcakes that she'd promised to make for Rhea's daycare (why had she agreed to do that again?), she realized that she didn't have any sugar. And now here she was, at her neighbor's door, literally asking to borrow sugar. She thought that was just an old saying but sure enough, here she was. Alice didn't really know Azazel too well but she figured that he seemed nice enough. Perhaps it was just the journalist in her but when he opened the door, it was pretty obvious that he had just woken up--and his question only further confirmed that. Do you realize what time it is? "Uh... Yeah, it's 2PM... Sorry to bother you, Azazel, but I was wondering if you had any sugar I could borrow? Or rather, have, I guess, since I can't really give it back? But if I'm interrupting something, I'll just go ask someone else," she said, wanting to get out of his hair. He clearly wasn't in the mood for visitors, which was fair enough.

Two: Is there a problem?

Eight: Oh, nothing Shakespeare couldn’t turn into a really good play.