blindwoofer
BlizzThe bell on the door tinkled once more as two young men and a young woman entered the bar. The first one to enter was Maverick Grange, a 5'11 mulatto beau with long lashes and hazel eyes. His grease-stained coveralls were pulled down off his arms and the sleeves tied around his waist with a t-shirt over his chest. Behind him was his monster of a brother Alejandro, standing at 6'2", with his dark hair, mischievous eyes, and charming smile. A black tank top stretched over his barrel chest and military fatigues hung low about his waist. Finally, almost entirely obscured by her brother's imposing size, a petite Asian woman with long black hair: Ja-Ki Grange. She was sporting Daisy Dukes, a lightly frilled top, and aviator sunglasses which hid most of her Korean features.
Several bar patrons turned to look and grew quiet for a few moments before hastily turning back to their conversations. It usually wasn't good news when the Granges came to town. Veteran of three wars, hitman, and smuggler, Old Man Negan Grange was as reclusive and dangerous as a 50-year-old gator; his children were only slightly less so and everyone knew it. Reputation aside the biggest conflict that inevitably arose around them was that only one of the Grange children, 17-year-old Kimber, was white. Her parents, a doctor and nurse, had died in Vietnam. Alejandro and Ja-Ki had been born in Mexico and South Korea respectively, but had grown up in the States. Maverick however, was the one who attracted the most ire. To strangers, he could easily pass as simply being tan, but anyone who knew his mother knew otherwise. Lucile Grange was a proud black Creole woman, Negan was a home grown Alabama boy, and Maverick was their mixed race son. Not everyone got into his face about it, but he did make most people uncomfortable.
The three of them went up to the bar, ignoring the eyes on their backs. Ja-Ki came away with a lemonade and made her way to a table in the back. She was the most self-conscious of all her siblings and spent little time actually interacting with most folks except to interview them for articles in the local paper. She took out a pad of paper and a pen before starting to scribble quietly upon it. Her two brothers, who were not shy at all about their skin tones, lingered to chat up the barkeep a bit before picking up their beers and scanning the room for their sister. Alejandro spotted Waylon Myers sitting alone and elbowed Maverick who turned and grinned. The pair immediately made their way over, dragging up chairs to sit near the table. The two were the only members of the Grange family who even attended church, but it didn't appear to be out of faith. Virtually every time they showed up they stayed behind to drill the poor pastor on discrepancies in the Scripture or have extended theological debates. They also seemed to be very fond of Waylon, or at least fond of annoying him, and took every opportunity to talk with him.
"Hola Sen`or Myers," said Alejandro in his Latino tenor. He placed his chair backwards to the table and straddled it, leaning on its back.
"How are you?" finished Maverick, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig out of his beer.
Their two faces spread into identical wolfish grins as they waited his response.
Several bar patrons turned to look and grew quiet for a few moments before hastily turning back to their conversations. It usually wasn't good news when the Granges came to town. Veteran of three wars, hitman, and smuggler, Old Man Negan Grange was as reclusive and dangerous as a 50-year-old gator; his children were only slightly less so and everyone knew it. Reputation aside the biggest conflict that inevitably arose around them was that only one of the Grange children, 17-year-old Kimber, was white. Her parents, a doctor and nurse, had died in Vietnam. Alejandro and Ja-Ki had been born in Mexico and South Korea respectively, but had grown up in the States. Maverick however, was the one who attracted the most ire. To strangers, he could easily pass as simply being tan, but anyone who knew his mother knew otherwise. Lucile Grange was a proud black Creole woman, Negan was a home grown Alabama boy, and Maverick was their mixed race son. Not everyone got into his face about it, but he did make most people uncomfortable.
The three of them went up to the bar, ignoring the eyes on their backs. Ja-Ki came away with a lemonade and made her way to a table in the back. She was the most self-conscious of all her siblings and spent little time actually interacting with most folks except to interview them for articles in the local paper. She took out a pad of paper and a pen before starting to scribble quietly upon it. Her two brothers, who were not shy at all about their skin tones, lingered to chat up the barkeep a bit before picking up their beers and scanning the room for their sister. Alejandro spotted Waylon Myers sitting alone and elbowed Maverick who turned and grinned. The pair immediately made their way over, dragging up chairs to sit near the table. The two were the only members of the Grange family who even attended church, but it didn't appear to be out of faith. Virtually every time they showed up they stayed behind to drill the poor pastor on discrepancies in the Scripture or have extended theological debates. They also seemed to be very fond of Waylon, or at least fond of annoying him, and took every opportunity to talk with him.
"Hola Sen`or Myers," said Alejandro in his Latino tenor. He placed his chair backwards to the table and straddled it, leaning on its back.
"How are you?" finished Maverick, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig out of his beer.
Their two faces spread into identical wolfish grins as they waited his response.
