Clandestine Meetings
strangIed love: "Excellent idea. I'll join you. Your place or mine?" He even went as far as draping an arm around her shoulders and start them moving in the direction of the bars. There were a lot of them around these parts, so happening upon seemed quite likely. "By the way, it's cool if you’re a virgin. I dig breakin' the gals in." Was there a line to cross here? Because, Deacon may have just dove right over it. "You keep insulting my junk, I *am* going to bust it out and rub it on yah. Wrinkles, grey hair and all." His hand spasmed, causing Deac to wince and involuntarily grip onto her shoulder. He hadn't intended on getting touchy feely with her, and if Red was really paying attention she’d feel the tremble in that palm. A moment later the pain subsided and he cleared his throat, as if that would excuse what had just happened. Whilst they walked and talked, his other hand fumbled about in his jacket pocket, fishing out a small pill that he popped in one smooth slight of hand. No one was the wiser.
modest portrait: "You heard me when I said I have a boyfriend, right?" She was a small girl, her shoulders petite under the weight of his arm, like she could easily be engulfed by him if given the opportunity. Steered in the direction of the bars, she had every intention of wriggling out of his hold, but then his hand went clamping and she opened her mouth to say something, though she stopped her walking when she felt the surge in his palm. "--So anyway," she said after a brief moment of silence like the poor bastard almost died right there on the sidewalk, "if you keep talking about your wrinkly little dick and all of the diseases that come along with it, I swear I will ralph all over your shoes, Forbes." Clearly she wasn't trying to keep her tongue classy, but there was no reason to try to impress him. When she was sure he wasn't going to keel over from a heart attack or something, she pulled out of his arm and walked a little bit faster, either to put up a chase, or just to get out of his hold.
strangIed love: "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't I make it clear I didn't care?" His brow lifted, but his arm did drop away. Don't need her crying rape. That was the kind of publicity that could ruin a man's career - especially in his less than legal profession. "If you ralph on my shoes, I'll bust him out and he'll ral-- oh never mind." He was beating a dead horse now. Smirking still, he allowed her to put some distance between them. "You're makin' me look like your creepy dad, that you don't wanna be seen in public with." A long legged woman walking her hoity-toity poodle hustled by, catching Deacon's attention momentarily. Those dark shades were slipped down the bridge of his nose so that the other woman could be very aware of his approval; rocking the 80's double take. The woman smiled, but kept on with her pace, and so Deac turned back to Red who was now a good ten feet in front of him. "Hey. Slow down, fuck. You want me winded before we even get there?" Don't let his age and thickness fool yah, The Deacon was in great shape.
modest portrait: She wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or beat the crap out of him (as if she had the a, strength, or b, muscle matter to do such a thing), so she simply did nothing when he said he didn't care whether she had a guy or not. Dating in this place was a hell of a time, and on top of that, she was fucking terrible at it. He wasn't making her case any easier. She turned around to say something quick-witted when she caught him staring at the girl who was smiling, and she laughed hysterically, stopping in her tracks. We're talking head tossed back, laughter boiling up towards the sky, her red hair spilling over her shoulders in Medusa curls for her blue eyes to pull down patches of sky. She laughed and gripped her stomach, folding over, but the woman didn't find her laughter as endearing when she shot her a look and hurried past her. "Slow down! He's old and his little dick wants to ralph on you! He told me so!" Marty Holiday had never said something so crass in her life. She immediately hiccupped and snapped her mouth shut, staring at him wide-eyed. Then, her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head down, ashamed. "This is your fucking fault," she murmured under her breath, quick like she was about to get entirely punished for what just came out of her mouth. Turning on her heel, she quickly ducked into the closest bar, mostly praying that he was nothing more than a psychotic dream that she was about to wake up and be free of. (d)
strangIed love: Her sudden outburst of laughter caught him off guard, his body coming to a halt within arm's distance of the giggling fiend. "Don't make me spank your ass and put you to bed without dinner." Rumbled out in a half-assed threat. To the woman that was sizing the duo up now, he openly grabbed his crotch, giving it a good squeeze for her benefit. That caused the dame to blush and mutter something in a disgusted manner under her breath, and hurry across the street. "You scared her off." His voice dropped into a tone of disappointment, you could hear the pout in it. Into the bar he followed, catching the door before it closed behind Marty. He was blind! The dim lighting accompanied with his sunglasses made everything go black. It took Deacon a whole two seconds to realize the issue, and he quickly removed the shades, stuffing them into a pocket. "What's my fault? I like a gal with a dirty mouth.." Sidling up to the bar, his jacket was adjusted so that he could sit on a stool without being restrained. "Shot of Jameson for myself, and whatever the kid would like." Already reaching for the wad of cash he kept on hand, the money clip branded with a cross, was slipped from the bank roll.
modest portrait: Marty didn't have a match -- as in she has met her match. She was an outgoing, loud-mouthed girl with a soft heart and softer eyes, but hell if she wasn't on the brink of deciding that she might have very well met her match. "Your pinky-sized dick ran her off. Are you following me? Still? Jesus fu--” She stopped talking when she saw him pull out cash, and her eyes widened a little and that was that. She promptly dropped her bag at her feet, climbed up onto the stool beside him, and eyed the liquor selection. Free booze was not something Marty would pass up! "I think I want... I don't know. A shot of something. Oh! Can you make slippery nipples? My friend made those and they were delicious." She looked like she might start drooling. Adjusting herself on her stool, the shelf of her collarbone was exposed due to the way her black sweater dropped off her slender shoulder, and her fingers idly brushed over the ledge of bone, her eyes lifting to the ceiling. (d)
Alec R Sutton: The exchange was caught, and as he passed Poodle Woman, he well did what any man would do and slowed to admire that long length of leg she had on display. "Dad's off his meds." He smiled to her, then crossed the street to catch up to the man who'd just slipped into the bar behind the girl. A glance over his shoulder as if to see if anyone was following and the he slipped into the bar behind the other two. His own shades were pulled off, the bow hung into the neck of his t-shirt as he took the room in. Finding the pair at the bar, he crossed the room to take a seat beside dear old dad.
strangIed love: "Yep. You're stuck with me until somethin' better comes along, Doll." Yep, he was old skool. Busting out the dolls, sugars, and darlin's like it was his job. "Heh heh. She said nipples.." Was he twelve? Sometimes he acted like it. "I concur, though. Slippery nipples are delicious. I won't lie, I'm a bit partial to Blow Jobs." The tender moved off to grab the old man his shot, and to mix up Marty's concoction. The other man was spied, as Deacon was a paranoid fuck. It wasn't until the man took a seat beside him, that he bristled. While his body language didn't change, he was very much more aware of his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye he sized up the other guy, his hand creeping to his thigh, inching closer to his piece. Though, if push came to shove, Deacon would probably reach over and grab the paring knife they used to cut up the fruit. Red was probably oblivious to the possible danger, and he shifted his stool forward as if to make his body a wall between her and the other man.
modest portrait: Marty wasn't very good at sitting still. She picked up her messenger bag and balanced it on her knees, digging around for a bit as her fingers wound around a clump of bobby pins at the bottom of the bag. Pulling them out, she set them on the bar and dropped her bag back to the floor, twisting up her curls in pieces to pin them to her head. The dramatic slope of her cheekbones exposed, her eyes seemed a bit brighter regardless of the dim lighting of the bar. Marty wasn't sexy; she was never the girl with a feline prowl or the type a boy would bring home for a dream-come-true fuck: she was average, but there was something about her that was ultimately feminine, and sometimes, maybe even pretty. "Oh! I had a blow job once. They're fun because you can't use your hands," she did in fact mean the drink, and when Deacon leaned forward, she leaned backward, eyeing the guy at Deacon's side. "I wouldn't sit there if I were you. Anything within a three-foot radius of this guy probably has a venereal disease." Satisfied once her curls were pinned away from her face and her bangs were falling across her eyes, she sat in quiet thought before she belatedly realized that she, too, was sitting within a three-foot radius of Deacon, and she promptly latched her hands to the seat of her stool and kicked up her hips in an attempt to shuffle her stool away from his in a series of noisy hops. (d)
Alec R Sutton: Alec wasn't unaware of the man's change in posture, but he made no overt moves, one way or the other. What he did do was look at the tender. "Bourbon. Neat." He then looked back at Deacon, one brow rising. "Relax, Pop." When Marty leaned back, do did he, and he smiled at her. "I've had my shots, but thanks for the warning." Looking back at Deacon as his bourbon hit the bar, he slid his hand into his pocket, the clip with the initials ARS stamped on it was pulled free, a bill peeled off and laid on the bar. Slipping the clip back into his pocket, he lifted his glass and took a drink of the bourbon, then looked back at Deacon. The study was thorough, as if trying to determine whether or not the man still had teeth, or if the lecherous twelve year old was all that was left.
strangIed love: Marty's lips were moving. He could hear sound coming out, but was only half listening. "Mhm. Sounds great." His response made it very obvious that he wasn't giving her his full attention, or any of it to be honest. Was a shame, too. He would've pointed out that she too was in the danger zone. "Careful, son." A verbal warning to the man that was awfully flirty with the redhead. His smile still worn for all to see, Deacon leaned a bit in Alec's direction so that the baritone that rolled from his mouth was heard only by the male. "You keep eyeballing me people are going to think you're here to suck my cock. So, either get to blowing me, or say what your thinking in that pretty head of yours." He paused, then added. "Did Matteo send you?" The name that he uttered made those normally cool and collect eyes flash with a burning hatred - a fire he quickly tamed. No need to hulk out in a bar full of people, especially within the girl's presence. That would really ruin his chance of stamping her v-card.
modest portrait: Marty starting laughing. A lot. Highly amused for personal reasons, this one. It figured the second a sausage took a seat beside Deacon, he'd lose interest in her. She swallowed up her giggling by downing the shot in a small tip of her head, and she gently set the shot glass on the bar and then realized she was practically sitting in another guy's lap as she had scooted her stool over as far away as possible from Deacon. "I promise I'm not hitting on you," she clarified with a smile, but the guy didn't seem to mind. He went about his business and she went about hers, which right now was eyeing the beer selection. "Okay, so I have a two drink maximum because I have a shitty booze budget," she took up small-talk with the bartender while the sausages were figuring out where they were going to blow each other or whatever, "so maybe I'll drink Guinness because I think I can maybe get a buzz from a shot and two heavy beers." (d)
strangIed love: "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't I make it clear I didn't care?" His brow lifted, but his arm did drop away. Don't need her crying rape. That was the kind of publicity that could ruin a man's career - especially in his less than legal profession. "If you ralph on my shoes, I'll bust him out and he'll ral-- oh never mind." He was beating a dead horse now. Smirking still, he allowed her to put some distance between them. "You're makin' me look like your creepy dad, that you don't wanna be seen in public with." A long legged woman walking her hoity-toity poodle hustled by, catching Deacon's attention momentarily. Those dark shades were slipped down the bridge of his nose so that the other woman could be very aware of his approval; rocking the 80's double take. The woman smiled, but kept on with her pace, and so Deac turned back to Red who was now a good ten feet in front of him. "Hey. Slow down, fuck. You want me winded before we even get there?" Don't let his age and thickness fool yah, The Deacon was in great shape.
modest portrait: She wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or beat the crap out of him (as if she had the a, strength, or b, muscle matter to do such a thing), so she simply did nothing when he said he didn't care whether she had a guy or not. Dating in this place was a hell of a time, and on top of that, she was fucking terrible at it. He wasn't making her case any easier. She turned around to say something quick-witted when she caught him staring at the girl who was smiling, and she laughed hysterically, stopping in her tracks. We're talking head tossed back, laughter boiling up towards the sky, her red hair spilling over her shoulders in Medusa curls for her blue eyes to pull down patches of sky. She laughed and gripped her stomach, folding over, but the woman didn't find her laughter as endearing when she shot her a look and hurried past her. "Slow down! He's old and his little dick wants to ralph on you! He told me so!" Marty Holiday had never said something so crass in her life. She immediately hiccupped and snapped her mouth shut, staring at him wide-eyed. Then, her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head down, ashamed. "This is your fucking fault," she murmured under her breath, quick like she was about to get entirely punished for what just came out of her mouth. Turning on her heel, she quickly ducked into the closest bar, mostly praying that he was nothing more than a psychotic dream that she was about to wake up and be free of. (d)
strangIed love: Her sudden outburst of laughter caught him off guard, his body coming to a halt within arm's distance of the giggling fiend. "Don't make me spank your ass and put you to bed without dinner." Rumbled out in a half-assed threat. To the woman that was sizing the duo up now, he openly grabbed his crotch, giving it a good squeeze for her benefit. That caused the dame to blush and mutter something in a disgusted manner under her breath, and hurry across the street. "You scared her off." His voice dropped into a tone of disappointment, you could hear the pout in it. Into the bar he followed, catching the door before it closed behind Marty. He was blind! The dim lighting accompanied with his sunglasses made everything go black. It took Deacon a whole two seconds to realize the issue, and he quickly removed the shades, stuffing them into a pocket. "What's my fault? I like a gal with a dirty mouth.." Sidling up to the bar, his jacket was adjusted so that he could sit on a stool without being restrained. "Shot of Jameson for myself, and whatever the kid would like." Already reaching for the wad of cash he kept on hand, the money clip branded with a cross, was slipped from the bank roll.
modest portrait: Marty didn't have a match -- as in she has met her match. She was an outgoing, loud-mouthed girl with a soft heart and softer eyes, but hell if she wasn't on the brink of deciding that she might have very well met her match. "Your pinky-sized dick ran her off. Are you following me? Still? Jesus fu--” She stopped talking when she saw him pull out cash, and her eyes widened a little and that was that. She promptly dropped her bag at her feet, climbed up onto the stool beside him, and eyed the liquor selection. Free booze was not something Marty would pass up! "I think I want... I don't know. A shot of something. Oh! Can you make slippery nipples? My friend made those and they were delicious." She looked like she might start drooling. Adjusting herself on her stool, the shelf of her collarbone was exposed due to the way her black sweater dropped off her slender shoulder, and her fingers idly brushed over the ledge of bone, her eyes lifting to the ceiling. (d)
Alec R Sutton: The exchange was caught, and as he passed Poodle Woman, he well did what any man would do and slowed to admire that long length of leg she had on display. "Dad's off his meds." He smiled to her, then crossed the street to catch up to the man who'd just slipped into the bar behind the girl. A glance over his shoulder as if to see if anyone was following and the he slipped into the bar behind the other two. His own shades were pulled off, the bow hung into the neck of his t-shirt as he took the room in. Finding the pair at the bar, he crossed the room to take a seat beside dear old dad.
strangIed love: "Yep. You're stuck with me until somethin' better comes along, Doll." Yep, he was old skool. Busting out the dolls, sugars, and darlin's like it was his job. "Heh heh. She said nipples.." Was he twelve? Sometimes he acted like it. "I concur, though. Slippery nipples are delicious. I won't lie, I'm a bit partial to Blow Jobs." The tender moved off to grab the old man his shot, and to mix up Marty's concoction. The other man was spied, as Deacon was a paranoid fuck. It wasn't until the man took a seat beside him, that he bristled. While his body language didn't change, he was very much more aware of his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye he sized up the other guy, his hand creeping to his thigh, inching closer to his piece. Though, if push came to shove, Deacon would probably reach over and grab the paring knife they used to cut up the fruit. Red was probably oblivious to the possible danger, and he shifted his stool forward as if to make his body a wall between her and the other man.
modest portrait: Marty wasn't very good at sitting still. She picked up her messenger bag and balanced it on her knees, digging around for a bit as her fingers wound around a clump of bobby pins at the bottom of the bag. Pulling them out, she set them on the bar and dropped her bag back to the floor, twisting up her curls in pieces to pin them to her head. The dramatic slope of her cheekbones exposed, her eyes seemed a bit brighter regardless of the dim lighting of the bar. Marty wasn't sexy; she was never the girl with a feline prowl or the type a boy would bring home for a dream-come-true fuck: she was average, but there was something about her that was ultimately feminine, and sometimes, maybe even pretty. "Oh! I had a blow job once. They're fun because you can't use your hands," she did in fact mean the drink, and when Deacon leaned forward, she leaned backward, eyeing the guy at Deacon's side. "I wouldn't sit there if I were you. Anything within a three-foot radius of this guy probably has a venereal disease." Satisfied once her curls were pinned away from her face and her bangs were falling across her eyes, she sat in quiet thought before she belatedly realized that she, too, was sitting within a three-foot radius of Deacon, and she promptly latched her hands to the seat of her stool and kicked up her hips in an attempt to shuffle her stool away from his in a series of noisy hops. (d)
Alec R Sutton: Alec wasn't unaware of the man's change in posture, but he made no overt moves, one way or the other. What he did do was look at the tender. "Bourbon. Neat." He then looked back at Deacon, one brow rising. "Relax, Pop." When Marty leaned back, do did he, and he smiled at her. "I've had my shots, but thanks for the warning." Looking back at Deacon as his bourbon hit the bar, he slid his hand into his pocket, the clip with the initials ARS stamped on it was pulled free, a bill peeled off and laid on the bar. Slipping the clip back into his pocket, he lifted his glass and took a drink of the bourbon, then looked back at Deacon. The study was thorough, as if trying to determine whether or not the man still had teeth, or if the lecherous twelve year old was all that was left.
strangIed love: Marty's lips were moving. He could hear sound coming out, but was only half listening. "Mhm. Sounds great." His response made it very obvious that he wasn't giving her his full attention, or any of it to be honest. Was a shame, too. He would've pointed out that she too was in the danger zone. "Careful, son." A verbal warning to the man that was awfully flirty with the redhead. His smile still worn for all to see, Deacon leaned a bit in Alec's direction so that the baritone that rolled from his mouth was heard only by the male. "You keep eyeballing me people are going to think you're here to suck my cock. So, either get to blowing me, or say what your thinking in that pretty head of yours." He paused, then added. "Did Matteo send you?" The name that he uttered made those normally cool and collect eyes flash with a burning hatred - a fire he quickly tamed. No need to hulk out in a bar full of people, especially within the girl's presence. That would really ruin his chance of stamping her v-card.
modest portrait: Marty starting laughing. A lot. Highly amused for personal reasons, this one. It figured the second a sausage took a seat beside Deacon, he'd lose interest in her. She swallowed up her giggling by downing the shot in a small tip of her head, and she gently set the shot glass on the bar and then realized she was practically sitting in another guy's lap as she had scooted her stool over as far away as possible from Deacon. "I promise I'm not hitting on you," she clarified with a smile, but the guy didn't seem to mind. He went about his business and she went about hers, which right now was eyeing the beer selection. "Okay, so I have a two drink maximum because I have a shitty booze budget," she took up small-talk with the bartender while the sausages were figuring out where they were going to blow each other or whatever, "so maybe I'll drink Guinness because I think I can maybe get a buzz from a shot and two heavy beers." (d)
Alec R Sutton: "I'm thinking your reputation is a bit inflated. I've heard words like professional, and go to guy, but I'm seeing ...." He regarded him and shook his head. "Not so much of that. And I don't know a Matteo." One shoulder rose and fell. "I did get your name from a guy named Vito, from Baltimore. Said you were one of the best...." His expression said he doubted that. "What ever happened to that whole, with age comes wisdom, thing?" He lifted his bourbon and took another drink, before his gaze went to the mirror behind the bar, watching the room behind them as well as the man beside him.
strangIed love: A laugh, short and sweet, erupted from his mouth. "I don't have to prove myself to you. Either you want me to work a job for you or not, fuckin' shit or get off the pot." His back straightened, his shot of Jameson picked up and knocked back. "What's a booze budget? Give her whatever she wants.." Said to the bar tender and he set down a hundred. Alec still had his ear, but he wasn't crowding his space any more. The point was not to drive away the pretty gal he stalked into this joint, and talking business was going to do just that. He knew Vito - he was good people. He never would've sent this douche if he didn't think Deac could handle the task. Truthfully, he didn't know how much longer he'd be in the game, so he'd take whatever he could get. No need to tip his hand, though. Don't want to seem too overzealous. Not to mention, he had a reputation to uphold.
modest portrait: Marty's eyes snapped to the hundred and she stared at it. Silently. Wide-eyed. Staring. Okay, okay, Marty thought to herself whilst staring at the bill on the bar. This guy is either my new best friend or he's going to get me drunk and -- shit. Her eyes snapped to the bartender who was simply staring back at her with his eyebrows lifted, and she laughed weakly and then cleared her throat, adjusting herself on her stool, still keeping his distance from Deacon. "Okay, um, I can't drink a hundred bucks worth of stuff because I'd throw up or die on your bar, so..." Oh my god! How the hell do I choose?! Starving artists don't drink like real people with money! "CanIhaveanotherslipperynipple?" She literally sounded like she thought she might be cut off after a one-shot limit. If Deacon lasted long enough (or really, if she stayed sober enough to walk on her brand new budget), she'd make a mental note to thank him for giving her the opportunity to get completely wasted on his dollar. (d)
Alec R Sutton: "I'm going to reach into my jacket, slowly." And he did so, the envelope slid out, and offered to him, below bar level, right hand passing it under left arm the elbow of which rested on the bar, to Deacon. "Ten. As a retainer. Not a job, so much as an education." He let that sink in, left hand lifting his glass even if that elbow didn't stray far from the bar top, waiting for Deacon to take the envelope or laugh. Whichever came first.
strangIed love: Marty's reaction was priceless. Deacon couldn't help but laugh as she breathed out her drink order. "Don't worry, Darlin', I won't let you get that drunk. Need you semi-coherent when I fuck you later. Screwing a passed out chick is kind of creepy." Note the kind of. He wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Made things a little more tolerable if they didn't try to press charges later, however.
modest portrait: "Joke's on you! I'm on my period!" She wasn't.
strangIed love: The excitement she displayed made him happy, until she got gross. "Oh, c'mon. Why'd you have to go there?" His lips smacked together in disgust. At the same time, his hand rested over the envelope. With a turn of his head, his eyes met Alec's for the first time. "What, you want to be my apprentice?" Maybe he wasn't understanding the young pup. Not a job. Now the old man was confused. Speak slowly junior, he's hard of hearing. Either way, Alec had his attention.
modest portrait: Marty grinned when she had finally one-upped Deacon, making him shut up for a minute. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward a little, her spine straightening while she watched the bartender make the shot. "You should probably make a few of them." Not because she wanted to drink them, but because -- okay, well hell, she'd drink the shit out of them -- but she also wanted to study so she could make them for herself at home. Her tongue poked at the corner of her mouth while she watched, but then the bartender did something she never expected: he handed her an empty shot glass, and lined up the ingredients. "Go," he said, and she stared at him. "You weren't supposed to know I--" "I'm not a moron," he grinned. "Go, make one." Marty's eyebrows knit in thought and she tongued the inside of her cheek, picking up the sambuca. "You can't really fuck this up, right? It's just two--" "Just two," he nodded, watching her splash Bailey's over the sambuca. Then she knocked back her shot, and she grinned broadly. "Hell's bells, I did it." Out of the corner of her eye she did see the exchange of an envelope, but it had nothin' on her learning how to make the shot. (d)
Alec R Sutton: "I got no problem being Luke Skywalker, to your Obi Wan Kenobe." He glanced around the bar, then back at Deacon. "And yes, I have my reasons. Suffice it to say, the eventual recipient of your instruction is richly deserving." He glanced past Deacon to Marty with the tender being her Obi Wan, before he looked back at Deacon by way of the mirror behind the bar. The room behind them was given close study, just to make certain no one was paying any overt attention to them. Couldn't have that.
strangIed love: Deacon narrowed his eyes at Alec. "Don't make me regret this." Said to Alec, as the envelope was slipped into his jacket. At that very moment his cell phone began to vibrate in his pants, causing the hired gun jolt. "Oh Baby...” In order to fish the cell out, he stood. The dancing gadget was yanked free, the name scanned, and he sighed. "I need to be going, the wife calls." That part meant for Marty. A cocktail napkin and the bartender's pen was stolen briefly so that he could jot down a location - vinnie's place.
modest portrait: "I KNEW it!" She pointed at Deacon straight on!
strangIed love: That napkin was pushed towards Alec. "I'll be in touch." Then to Marty. "You're not off the hook, Red." He mussed her curls and headed for the door.
Alec R Sutton: "You're a bit.... twitchy, for a man of your profession." Observation, only, and Alec picked up his glass and knocked back the rest of his bourbon. Sliding the glass across the bar, he motioned to the tender to refill it.
modest portrait: "I am so off the hook," she swayed on her stool. "He's married and I'm taken and -- is it warm in here?" Tipsy. The girl was getting tipsy.
Alec R Sutton: As Deacon headed for the door, Alec watched him, then picked up his glass, a glance shot to Marty and he chuckled. "Booze does that, in the right quantities."
modest portrait: "I remember you from the park," she grinned at Alec. "You looked all... stuffy in your suit, and whatnot."
Alec R Sutton: "I had a meeting." He shrugged. He was far more loosely garbed now. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket... Comfortable clothes.
modest portrait: "Oh. Well, that guy," she jutted a thumb towards the door, "he's trouble. I kept telling him I have a boyfriend, but damn, how am I supposed to turn down free drinks?" She tipped back another shot. (d)
Alec R Sutton: "It is a conundrum." He nodded; the napkin picked up and slid into his inner jacket pocket. "So what brings you here, other than the slippery nipples?"
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