[center] [img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/63/18/43/631843fbbab6f1cb9d7be8ffba6a7660.jpg[/img] [h1][color=f7976a]╚══════════════╝[/color][/h1] [color=f7976a]"Wow."[/color] A stranger walked in cigarette in hand, it looked like he shared something with Zoey. He pulled a match out from his pocket, his other hand serviced himself as he put a Deluxe Moresovr-Gand cigarette in his mouth. He quickly struck the match off the wall as it lit up with a hiss, wanting to die as it quickly as possible before it made contact with the cigarette. Burning tobacco and hope from it's tip as the stranger brought the cancer stick to his mouth. He inhaled as he started to step inside the bar, snow falling off him and melting from the unrelenting warmth that the bar provided. He walked in, heading towards one thing that stuck on his mind. While walking by the booths he passed the kid with the guitar, Stacey Gray? No that was definetly not his name, he aggressively exhaled smoke towards him as the cigarette continued to burn rudely in the diner. [color=f7976a]"Something tells me that's [b]not[/b] your name."[/color] He made his way to the [color=f7976a][i]J U K E B O X[/i][/color]. Where he contemplated what song he would grace the prescence of company that presented itself before him in this makeshift hostel of booze and broken dreams. He slid a coin into the hungry maw of the mechanical monstrosity before him, a song caught his eye but he had to make a quick accessment. [hr] [h3][color=f7976a]A quick assessment - a mental review of everyone here By: ???[/color][/h3] [color=70b294]Guitar-boy:[/color] Stacey wasen't his name, no one would name their kid that unless it was some kind of ironic punishment to inflict onto society. The bullying the social stigma. Look at the physical tell tale signs, he's sweating, nervous, quiet. He carries around a guitar maybe he's one of those kids who is only confident when they sing in the shower. Wait. . . Is Stacey actually a [b]chick!?[/b] Why does he look and sound like a man. Considering the situation nothing could be taken off the table. Sure it's strange to be named as a chick, but what if this nervous bucket of boy is actually a woman in some kind of form? Observe, analyze, conclude. [color=f7976a]"Sorry Stacey, I take that back. Your elevated heartbeat and anxiety had me judge you incorrectly."[/color] He almost sounded sincere but he was more annoyed at his snap-judgement betraying him. [color=goldenrod]Pretty-girl:[/color] Probably the nicest looking one among them was the blonde, drop-dead gorgeous. Like the type of 'valley girls' you see back in old-mags. She looked strong and independent, like a leader-chick. Though seldom there are few in today's society. [color=Cyan]Cool-Smoker-Chick:[/color] Blue hair, smoking... Holy shit she has a huge rack! The man stopped his train of thought for a moment as his eyes gazed over the punk's physique. His cigarette threatening to fall from his lips as he closed his jaw. She seemed like she was a poser, like the ones that do it for attention. Bets were on that she was a cold bitch or snappy, fun at a party but annoying when she's sober. He should of just poured her a drink, if only he knew she was here when he walked in. Fuck [color=Cyan]Smoker-chick-clone:[/color] She looked just like that smoker chick, same blue hair and everything. It's like they were twins? She seemed quiet, not like the type of I'm a loner quiet. He's seen that type but it's just a theory, just like Stacey. Something is bugging him about her though. [color=forestgreen]Tribal-Lady:[/color] Dressed poorly for the weather, lots of tattoos. Defintely not from around here, very strange. Most people in Africa are fighting in the war right now. Finally... [color=darkviolet]Beret-Girl:[/color] Just looking at her for a moment makes his head spin, it's just not right. He tries to think about who, what, anything about her. He wants to form an opinion or analysis about her but can't. She's unfucking readable. [hr] It was done in only a few moments, mentally he felt exhausted. Just speaking addressing Stacey during that was kind of a bummer, but he had made his assumptions and analyzed what he could. Still he felt like he was behind on everything, he had missed so much. His only hunch about Stacey seemed the most logical thing he could cling onto, but he was over thinking. Everyone was watching him, probably thinking who the fuck is this guy. Why the fuck did he just question Stacey's name? He was totally going over board, he wasen't sure if he was ever going to stop himself. Hopefully no one could read his thoughts, the things that go on their would beat this place out of the water. He could feel some heat on him, resentment? It didn't matter, he didn't break his pokerface nor did he drop his guard. He turned back to the jukebox for a second, he knew what song to pick. He was going to play a old song, something that his grand father listended to back in the day. If he had known his grand father, the song still stuck to him. He liked it, the vocals, the beat it would make his feet move. Now wasen't the time to dance, but the song would fix everything. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCK0ttJoWVA]Click.[/url] The song began to play, he took another drag from the cigarette it screamed out in pain to his ears as he held in the smoke for just one moment before exhaling it violently through his nose. He looked up to ice-queen with a little extra on her chest, locking eyes with her for a moment. [color=f7976a]"I'm taking bets."[/color] he said taking another drag from the cigarette as he leaned up against the jukebox hoping no one was too irritated with him yet. [color=f7976a]"[i]We're[/i] dead, [i]we're[/i] here for a reason, or [i]we're[/i] suffering for something we did."[/color] he said dragging in another mouthful of smoke as the music played. He made sure his right side pressed up against the jukebox, his suit jacket was covering past down his waist a few inches but he seemed secluded like there was a bigger picture he was hiding.[color=f7976a] "I think we're here for a very special reason, five bucks says that."[/color] he said smirking, he killed the cigarette - good riddens. He flicked the butt over the bar's counter. [color=f7976a] "Am I wrong in saying that, this is something special?" [/color]He chuckled, his voice was smooth almost like a singers but he wasen't a singer. He definetly, was not a singer. [/center]