xx. stage 4 fear of trying [open]

[Deleted]

꧂ꕥ꧁ ❝ admidst the mists and coldest frosts; with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts; he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts.❞ ✄ coding and layout cadeparade song wordcount 585

It had been a three hour drive from Seattle to Astaria, and eighteen hours total that he'd been without a shot of gin or smoking a joint; and now that he was moving boxes from his '08 Chevy Impala to his flat above the Drink and Vibe, it was beginning to grate on him. Setting down the box he was holding in the kitchen, he silently prayed to whatever dark force was listening that his apartment wasn't haunted. In the corner, from his comfy spot in the dog bed that Ezra had brought up thirty minutes earlier, Jonah looked up at him with those big brown eyes and sighed. Unable to help himself, Ezra smiled, walking over and hunching down to pat him on the head.       "Me too mate. Me too." he answered, turning to look at the boxes piled up throughout the flat. Next to the archway that went into the kitchen sat a medium sized box labeled 'spirits'. It wasn't eleven in the morning yet. Part of him, the admittedly shameless part, was ready to pop open a bottle and let all this become future Ezra's problem. The other, more rational side of him won over for once, a miracle for sure. Heading down the narrow steps from his flat, he got out the next few boxes from the boot of his car and hauled them upstairs. This went on for a little bit longer before he found himself sitting against the boot of his car smoking a cigarette and taking in the neighborhood.       There was no shortage of housing in this part of town, that was for damn sure. Taking a long drag and glancing down the street, the neighborhood was just starting to bustle as noon-thirty hit. In the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of a neon light turning on. A look to his left, and he realized it had come from the Drink And Vibe. They were open now, apparently. He shrugged to himself. I've got most of the important shit up there, I think a break isn't gonna hurt me.       The bell above the door rang as he stepped inside, and he made a beeline to the bar. With ease, he slid into the bar stool and leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar. A pretty little thing, college girl it looked like, smiled and stepped towards him, "Hey there new guy, what can I get for you? " Charming. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his bar chair.       "That obvious, issit?" he drawled, a ghost of a smirk stretching across his lips. She laughed, shaking her head,       "Now it definitely is. No, I saw you moving boxes while I was opening."       "Fair enough. I'll take a scotch if you 'ave it. Keep the tab open please." With a nod, she moved around behind the bar, grabbing a glass and a bottle from the shelf. He shifted in his seat, looking down at the bar as if the wood grain was suddenly very interesting. A glass of scotch slid his way and he tipped his head in gratitude.       "If you could dear, leave the bottle." She set it next to him and he spared her another smile. He nursed the scotch for awhile, pouring a refill and repeating. He watched the bar begin to bustle with activity, and a familiar pit settled in his stomach. Without another thought about it, he shot back the scotch like a shot, and poured himself another round.

[Deleted]

The bar in the Uptown area of the city wasn't a place he'd normally go, as he refused to drink alcohol in order to keep a clear head. Normally, he'd be home by now after his shift, but his team mates practically dragged him here to hang out for a while. As his team mates had fun drinking a couple of beers or whatever they were drinking while playing either darts or pool somewhere behind him, he sat near the end of the bar, watching the miserable news discuss about the big bust of one of the local gangs in Haven he and the others participated in with the Police Department's Drugs and Gangs Task Force. Not one police officer liked going over there in that part of the city. It was a cesspool and he knew it wasn't always like that. It appalled him how a nice part of town went to shit over the years. Stopping criminals was one thing, but dealing with the repercussions of their crimes against innocent people who live there, sometimes children, was something else. He didn't like to talk about what the majority of his calls when SWAT was needed in Haven...and they went there all the time because regular patrol officers refused to take a call there; no matter if it was petty theft or a domestic. In fact, he never liked talking to anyone about it, not even to the department's in-house psychologist he reported to after an incident.
    “Mitchell! C'mon, man. Join us!”
    Muttering something under his breath when he overheard his surname being called out by one of the members of his team. Without looking back, he weakly waved a hand at them, silently telling them 'no', and didn't move from his bar stool. The others laughed and teased him before continuing to play together as they talked about the bust and whatever they were doing this week.
    There were four shots of whiskey in front of him the bar tender poured for him the third time. He didn't want to drink and deal with the aftermath of his drunken self again. It was never pretty how destructive he could become while drunk, and he was mostly self-destructive. Needless to say, the way he drank...appeared odd or amusing to others. The bar tender knew him enough after the few other times his team dragged him here after their shift was over in an ill-attempt to bond with him better, but Mitchell's way still amused her. He emptied the shot of the first glass into his mouth, swished it around for a bit, before spitting it back into the glass, and repeated it with the remaining shots. An amused shook of her head, she removed the used glasses to pour the contents into the sink and put them away to be cleaned by her employees.
    “I still don't get you,” She spoke to him as she cleaned the counter-top in front of Mitchell. “If you don't drink or want to drink anything here, then why waste your money on it and not buy something non-alcoholic?”
    Offering her a sheepish grin, he lifted his index finger of both hands up and then down to lightly tap a couple of times on the counter. “Good question...”
    “You sure?”
    Mitchell shrugged. “Yep.”
    “Hey, it's your money, pal...I'm not complaining.” She placed clean shot glasses in front of him and poured more whiskey into each.     “Enjoy...somehow...” She raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before going off to tend to the other patrons, leaving Mitchell alone to watch the news and his odd drinking habit. When another person sat down at the bar for a drink near by, he glanced there way, studied the new guy the bar tender spoke to for a bit.

tag: @ezra  
template by eliza @ tb & adoxography

[Deleted]

꧂ꕥ꧁ ❝ admidst the mists and coldest frosts; with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts; he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts.❞ ✄ coding and layout cadeparade song outfit wordcount 510 tag @tenebris

The noise level in the bar elevated slightly, and Ezra looked up from his drink to find the source naturally. He noticed a few men throwing darts  and playing pool in the corner of the establishment, jovially calling to their friend sitting at the bar. And then he noticed the other patron scrutinizing him. He lifted a hand in a weak, polite wave. Grabbing his glass and the bottle, he swiveled out of his chair and walked a few paces closer to the other guy. Motioning to the chair next to him, Ezra gave him a lazy smile, saying,        "I mean no disrespect, mate, but I imagine this seat's not taken?" After a moment he set the bottle and the glass down in front of the stool, sliding into it.        "Hope ye don't mind if I change that. Wouldn't want people to think we're a bunch of sad sods drinking alone, eh?" He opened up the bottle and poured himself another round, sliding the bottle closer to the man. "This round's on me, dear." The bar tender seemed to take notice of his new position, and gave him a small smile. Smiling back at her, he turned towards the other.         "Name's Ezra. Just moved here from Seattle. No' that you need my life story or anything." The bark of laughter that followed had a tinge of sadness to it, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. He cracked his knuckles unconsciously, taking the glass of scotch and downing it, reveling in the burn that followed it as it went down his throat, and the bitter acrid taste it left on his tongue. The glass clapped the bar quietly as he set it down, and he retreated to his thoughts for a moment, suddenly aware of how alone he was in this new place.         It wasn't as if he hadn't been alone before, and it wasn't like it would be impossible to make friends. Plus, Seattle was only 3 hours away. If he fancied a drive, he could be up there playing cards with the boys in an afternoon, with minimal speeding involved. But the last time he'd moved, he'd had Saadia by his side and somehow it seemed easier. His heart felt a little weighty at the thought of Saadia. He poured himself another generous round and nursed it quickly, letting the drink do it's work.        "No' meaning to pry, luv. You seem like a pretty put together bloke," and after a moment, "That's a compliment. But, why are you over here instead of with your mates? Don't fancy darts?" he asked, the alcohol and an innate curiosity talking. "You've no obligation to answer that. Just tell me to bugger of if need be. My wife used to say I was a bi' of a handful at times." he rambled on. That bit was true. Saadia used to laugh, saying he was too much sometimes. Not in a mean way or anything. Just a tad obnoxious at times. Ezra was inclined to agree with her, chatting up strangers in the pub notwithstanding.

[Deleted]

Mitchell slowly looked back at the TV when he saw the other man politely wave at him before heading over to sit next to him. There's always someone who wants to have a conversation with another at a bar. He silently cursed under his breath, visibly annoyed with the man deciding to sit beside him in the empty stood, and yet shrugged at his question of anyone sitting there. Still...one study of him reminded him of how troubled he was, and the sadness he heard in the man's laughter proved it. Misery loves company. He breathed in a sigh, taking a twig of his before spitting it back out into the glass. He wasn't a 'people person' by any means, and he might have seemed cold-hearted to some, but he wasn't rude by any means. Instead of finding another quiet place to sit, or walking home, he decided to just sit there and listen, and maybe have a conversation with the new guy. Of course, this felt like one of his non-police activities he doesn't want anyone at the PD finding out, gathering information on a target; sometimes by his targets themselves.
    He shifted his attention to him and shrugged again and quietly replied with a short grunt. Not minding if he'd sit there by him was debatable still, much less not caring if anyone thought he was a sad sod drinking alone. Then again, he wasn't actually drinking...just being a grumpy, lone guy, while his cop buddies had their fun doing all the drinking, socializing, and playing games. While he listened, he learned the new guy was named Ezra who moved here from Seattle, which threw him off a bit due to the English accent.
    An eyebrow raised at the question he was told he didn't have to answer, glancing up at the mirror, which enabled him to view the whole area behind him, and watched the others for a few moments as they had their fun. Another another, another spitting out the beverage. “They dragged me here because I didn't really want to go. It's not my thing.”
He finally looked at him with a small but brief smile. “It was a long day...” He paused, glancing up at the TV again, and then felt relieved when the news started talking about something other than what happened in Haven.
    “Name's Kiefer, by the way.”

tag: @ezra
template by eliza @ tb & adoxography

[Deleted]

꧂ꕥ꧁ ❝ admidst the mists and coldest frosts; with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts; he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts.❞ ✄ coding and layout cadeparade song outfit wordcount 509 tag @tenebris wtf is he saying?

Super powers were not required when it came to reading body language. He picked up on the discomfort of the bloke, but he'd already dug his grave with this one. He shuddered at the thought of graves, looking to distract himself by glancing up at the TV. Ezra poured himself another drink with surprising finesse for being about six glasses in, give or take. Though considering how regularly he drank, he supposed it was to be expected. His liver was practically crying out for help. He hummed at the answer given to his arguably rude question, thankful that the man seemed to humor him for now.      "I can understand that. I've always been 'angin at darts. Beer pong, 'owever. Now there's a game I fancy m'self sound as a pound at." He joked. He threw back another round of scotch, nearly 2/3rds of the way through the bottle. Giving a lazy smile back, he nodded thoughtfully, eyes trained on the television.       "I know a t'ing or two about long days m'self." He replied softly, his accent becoming more pronounced now that he was a little tipsy. He always got really bad about his Lancastrian slang the more pissed drunk he got. Most people seemed to just smile and nod after awhile, to which he took no offense. Pouring another round for himself, he turned towards the man who introduced himself as Kiefer.         "Kiefer, eh? Strong German name, that is. You from around 'ere?" He asked, shifting in his seat. "Long as I been 'ere, don't much 'ave an ear for American accents. Except those New Yorkers. Don't think I'd ever mistake those ones. What a load 'o twod. Bastardization of the English language if you ask me." He smirked at Kiefer, raising his glass up in a sort of half toast, "Though I suppose I'm a 'yppocrite for saying that, I'm sure 'alf the people who chat us up think m'behind the door as me da' used to say." He laughed, drinking what remained in the glass.          Ezra sat at a crossroads now, knowing he could very well finish the bottle of scotch if he put his mind to it. The reasonable side of his brain, the part he'd buried under poor impulse control and even worse coping mechanisms, told him that it was probably time for him to cut himself off. The nagging ache in his heart said another thing entirely. He stared at the glass aimlessly, and then at his hands on the bar in front of him. The brand on his palm stuck out like a sore thumb in the light of the pub. All shadows and healed, pinkish skin that bunched at the edges where it met the old, unmarred bits. A small, sad smile curled at his lips. He closed his palm, fixing Kiefer with a stern look.            "I know I said it before, but don't be afraid to tell me to shut me gob. I can get to be a bit mitherin' if I prattle on too long. Don't be nesh on us, mate."

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“I'm not into any of it. I'd rather be at home and relax,” he admitted, not caring if he did sound boring to anyone.
    Mitchell glanced at him after a few moments, trying to understand him as best as he could. “I'm not from around here until a few years back or so, give or take.” He laughed quietly when Ezrea mentioned about the accents New Yorkers have.     “You're not wrong there.”
    He raised an eyebrow for a second there, not quite sure what he completely said, but just smiled, nodded, and gave a light chuckle. He finished doing what he wanted to do and began chewing on some ice from a glass of iced tea he ordered – non-alcoholic, of course. He looked back at him and noticed the stern look and listened carefully to what he was saying. He sighed and shrugged.“I know you did, and I really don't mind. I guess it's better than drinking alone, eh?” He smirked.

tag: @ezra
template by eliza @ tb & adoxography

[Deleted]

꧂ꕥ꧁ ❝ admidst the mists and coldest frosts; with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts; he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts.❞ ✄ coding and layout cadeparade song outfit wordcount 379 tag @tenebris wtf is he saying?

"That's very fair. Nothing wrong with that." He replied. Finally having made his decision, he poured yet another drink for himself. He smirked at the laugh he managed to get out of Kiefer. It helped relieve some of the heaviness he'd felt before. Nursing his new glass of scotch, he glanced once more at the bottle in front of him. He caught the bartender's eye momentarily, noting the startled look she gave him. Ezra gave her a shrug and a charming smile. She seemed to take that as a sign he was alright. From his experience as long his he didn't make an arse of himself, he was fine.        When Kiefer spoke again, he returned the smirk with a laugh, nodding his head. "Yer right about that." He nursed on the scotch once more, finishing it up. Ezra swiveled idly in his chair, much like a kid would, and he poured the last of the bottle of scotch into his cup. Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he made eye contact once more with the bartender.       "I'll go ahead and pay that tab now, luv. I'd like to cover my friend here as well, if ye don't mind." He said, sliding his card across the bar. She smiled at him and nodded, taking the card to the register and leaving the two of them. Turning to Kiefer he said,       "Don't try to fight me on it neither. It's the least I can do for you after you had to listen to my angsty arse." Following it up with a lighthearted laugh.  He nursed the last of the scotch, letting it burn it's way down his throat once more. His head swam a little when he tipped it back this time around. That was a solid indicator that he'd picked the right time to pay up. He hung around even after she returned his card to him, however. Making sure to give her a generous tip, he returned the receipt and turned back to Kiefer, resting his head on his hands.        "I might step out for a smoke momentarily. You're welcome to come with if you like, though," he motioned to the non-alcoholic iced tea, "You don't seem like the type. Won't hurt my feelings." He teased jovially.