Phlebotomost + Ranger
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Post by Bastian Pennington on Sept 14, 2024 22:20:47 GMT
last edited Sept 14, 2024 22:21:28 GMT by Bastian Pennington
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Post by Jude Hackett on Sept 17, 2024 1:34:03 GMT
At an alarming rate, Jude was becoming quite the regular at Purgatory. This very fact was the reason his mother stood at his side. Her lithe frame clinging to her son's arm. Her eyes fluttered around anxiously at the crowd around them. Fingernails with chipped polish dug crescent moons into his arm. Jude looked down, half expecting blood to pool. Irritation prickled under his skin, hot and uncomfortable.
"I have to see where my son is spending all of his time," she had harrumphed, following him out the door. He had figured her too obsessed in her soaps to notice his comings and goings. Now here he was, twenty-three years old, with a mother hanging on like a leech. Who knew he still needed a chaperone? Jude should be elated his mother left the house, but there was a void.
As soon as Jude walked through the doors, his shoulders sagged in, as if he could hide inside himself if he tried hard enough. The gang he normally played cards with were pointing his direction, and he sharply turned away from that corner of the bar. "Oh, dear, it's quite busy," his mother muttered in his ear, her hold on his arm firm but shaking. When had she become so thin? When did he last care?
They spent some time milling about, Jude careful to leave a wide berth around his Purgatory buddies. Collecting a glass of whiskey from the bar, his go to drink always, his mother eventually dragged him to some tables looking out at the stage. "Let's just.." her breath was shallow, "rest here for a minute, hun." Wordlessly, he nodded and took a long sip of his drink. He'd need about ten more of these to get through the night.
Eventually, live entertainment graced their awkward silence, and he offered up a quick 'thank you' to Tabitha. Jude snuck away to get three more drinks while Cordelia watched the girl on stage perform. She was cute, and had a pleasant enough voice but wasn't really up his alley. Balancing the drinks, he made his way back to the table his mom was still perched at. With a boney finger, she pointed between Jude and the girl on stage as she made her exit, applause following her. "Oh Judas, she's a cute girl. Why don't you go talk to her? Why don't you bring anyone home to meet me?" Jude choked on his whiskey.
"Cordelia." It came out sharp, irritated beyond belief, a warning to stop that conversation in its tracks. Tears welled in his mother's eyes as she pushed herself away from the table. "I will see you at home, come back when you wish to be pleasant." She spat out the last word, and it hung there between them. They hadn't been 'pleasant' in a long time. Wordlessly, he waved a hand over his head, dismissing her. He felt a tinge of guilt, wondering if she would get back alright but dismissed it as quickly as it came. Immediately, the tension he felt in his body dissipated. Toying around with the idea of going to play some kind of card game, he slammed his second drink and was moving to collect the remaining two before a new voice rang through the microphone.
Oh, now that is a voice. He thought to himself, quickly setting his drinks back down and peering at the stage with a renewed rapture. The table was close enough to the stage where he could fully admire the man on it. He cheered when others did, but didn't really hear anything the man was actual saying. He was too busy blatantly checking him out, thankful for the lights shining on the stage hopefully drowning out his wandering gaze. Jude was more focused on the flip of his hair, the way his hands moved along the strings of the guitar as he began to play.
Jude leaned forward, absently picking up his glass and bringing it to his lips as he watched the performance play out. Where did he sign up to become a groupie of whoever this was? Mentally, he kicked himself for not paying more attention. He'd be stuck hopelessly googling when he got home. He was hooked. Stage presence, soothing voice, and an attractive face. What was this guy doing in Sweetwater of all places?
Bastian Pennington
"I have to see where my son is spending all of his time," she had harrumphed, following him out the door. He had figured her too obsessed in her soaps to notice his comings and goings. Now here he was, twenty-three years old, with a mother hanging on like a leech. Who knew he still needed a chaperone? Jude should be elated his mother left the house, but there was a void.
As soon as Jude walked through the doors, his shoulders sagged in, as if he could hide inside himself if he tried hard enough. The gang he normally played cards with were pointing his direction, and he sharply turned away from that corner of the bar. "Oh, dear, it's quite busy," his mother muttered in his ear, her hold on his arm firm but shaking. When had she become so thin? When did he last care?
They spent some time milling about, Jude careful to leave a wide berth around his Purgatory buddies. Collecting a glass of whiskey from the bar, his go to drink always, his mother eventually dragged him to some tables looking out at the stage. "Let's just.." her breath was shallow, "rest here for a minute, hun." Wordlessly, he nodded and took a long sip of his drink. He'd need about ten more of these to get through the night.
Eventually, live entertainment graced their awkward silence, and he offered up a quick 'thank you' to Tabitha. Jude snuck away to get three more drinks while Cordelia watched the girl on stage perform. She was cute, and had a pleasant enough voice but wasn't really up his alley. Balancing the drinks, he made his way back to the table his mom was still perched at. With a boney finger, she pointed between Jude and the girl on stage as she made her exit, applause following her. "Oh Judas, she's a cute girl. Why don't you go talk to her? Why don't you bring anyone home to meet me?" Jude choked on his whiskey.
"Cordelia." It came out sharp, irritated beyond belief, a warning to stop that conversation in its tracks. Tears welled in his mother's eyes as she pushed herself away from the table. "I will see you at home, come back when you wish to be pleasant." She spat out the last word, and it hung there between them. They hadn't been 'pleasant' in a long time. Wordlessly, he waved a hand over his head, dismissing her. He felt a tinge of guilt, wondering if she would get back alright but dismissed it as quickly as it came. Immediately, the tension he felt in his body dissipated. Toying around with the idea of going to play some kind of card game, he slammed his second drink and was moving to collect the remaining two before a new voice rang through the microphone.
Oh, now that is a voice. He thought to himself, quickly setting his drinks back down and peering at the stage with a renewed rapture. The table was close enough to the stage where he could fully admire the man on it. He cheered when others did, but didn't really hear anything the man was actual saying. He was too busy blatantly checking him out, thankful for the lights shining on the stage hopefully drowning out his wandering gaze. Jude was more focused on the flip of his hair, the way his hands moved along the strings of the guitar as he began to play.
Jude leaned forward, absently picking up his glass and bringing it to his lips as he watched the performance play out. Where did he sign up to become a groupie of whoever this was? Mentally, he kicked himself for not paying more attention. He'd be stuck hopelessly googling when he got home. He was hooked. Stage presence, soothing voice, and an attractive face. What was this guy doing in Sweetwater of all places?
Bastian Pennington