I'm back guys.
Will post after class today
Metronome Member
Tick Box
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Metronome
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2871 (0.63 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- Metronome 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
ThisIsFine,
Omega Man,
Emma
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
The bartender took the money and went to get Dylan his drink, hesitating for a moment as if he was considering changing his mind. Dylan turned back to Flint.
"Hey, thanks man." He took the card that was offered. Dylan knew he didn't have money for whatever the guy was selling, angels or some shit, but he put the card in his pocket anyways. The bartender returned not too long after and set a glass bottle down in front of Dylan.
Dylan pulled himself up off the counter and took the bottle, tilting it up to drink. He hadn't had a good beer in a while. "So where you stay at, man? You headin' towards Marbridge road?" That was where Amber and Rachel's house was, where Dylan lived. He didn't want to trouble to guy too much with a ride home, but he sure as hell didn't feel like walking.
"Man, what was that shit?" Jack asked as he walked along the sidewalk, Orren beside him. "You act like you ain't never seen a bitch before."
"She caught me looking at her," Orren grumbled, still embarrassed about the whole thing. Jack laughed.
"You gotta play it off. 'Hell yeah I was lookin' at your ass, it's pretty fine.' Chicks dig that shit." He gave Orren a nudge with his elbow. Orren had a feeling that the kind of 'bitches' Jack was into wasn't the same kind he was into. Jack was a notorious "love 'em and leave 'em" type. Orren liked to at least try to keep a steady girlfriend, but most of the girls he'd ever dated weren't interested in a committed relationship. They mostly just wanted him to buy them stuff.
"Hey man, don't sweat it. We all do stupid shit sometimes. Look, I'll buy you a few drinks and we'll forget it ever happened." The pub was only a few blocks from the gang house, making it a prime target for members to go and blow whatever money they earned. Jack and Orren were pretty frequent visitors. They went in and headed for their usual place at the bar, only to find that some drugged up slob was sitting on one of their stools. Orren made a face of disgust and moved down a few seats. Jack plopped down next to him and pulled out a cigarette to light.
"Hey, thanks man." He took the card that was offered. Dylan knew he didn't have money for whatever the guy was selling, angels or some shit, but he put the card in his pocket anyways. The bartender returned not too long after and set a glass bottle down in front of Dylan.
Dylan pulled himself up off the counter and took the bottle, tilting it up to drink. He hadn't had a good beer in a while. "So where you stay at, man? You headin' towards Marbridge road?" That was where Amber and Rachel's house was, where Dylan lived. He didn't want to trouble to guy too much with a ride home, but he sure as hell didn't feel like walking.
"Man, what was that shit?" Jack asked as he walked along the sidewalk, Orren beside him. "You act like you ain't never seen a bitch before."
"She caught me looking at her," Orren grumbled, still embarrassed about the whole thing. Jack laughed.
"You gotta play it off. 'Hell yeah I was lookin' at your ass, it's pretty fine.' Chicks dig that shit." He gave Orren a nudge with his elbow. Orren had a feeling that the kind of 'bitches' Jack was into wasn't the same kind he was into. Jack was a notorious "love 'em and leave 'em" type. Orren liked to at least try to keep a steady girlfriend, but most of the girls he'd ever dated weren't interested in a committed relationship. They mostly just wanted him to buy them stuff.
"Hey man, don't sweat it. We all do stupid shit sometimes. Look, I'll buy you a few drinks and we'll forget it ever happened." The pub was only a few blocks from the gang house, making it a prime target for members to go and blow whatever money they earned. Jack and Orren were pretty frequent visitors. They went in and headed for their usual place at the bar, only to find that some drugged up slob was sitting on one of their stools. Orren made a face of disgust and moved down a few seats. Jack plopped down next to him and pulled out a cigarette to light.
Ametrist, that post was ridiculous even for this RP's standards.
Who the TI-32 gang deals with:
They occasionally buy guns from Flint, but prefer to get them cheaper if they can. (read: stolen)
They buy drugs through John and a few other local suppliers, but a lot of their stuff comes from Mexico.
Kristy may drug run for them occasionally.
Anyone else not mentioned is either not in the character dump, with another gang, or unrelated to gang activity.
They occasionally buy guns from Flint, but prefer to get them cheaper if they can. (read: stolen)
They buy drugs through John and a few other local suppliers, but a lot of their stuff comes from Mexico.
Kristy may drug run for them occasionally.
Anyone else not mentioned is either not in the character dump, with another gang, or unrelated to gang activity.
Dylan turned to look at the man, his eyes hazy and blank. He slowly began to realize that the guy was talking to him, not some invisible entity standing between them. "They say I ain't allowed to tell folk what my whole name is being, but you can call me Dylan." His speech was slow, tired, drug out and given no effort. It was just as sloppy as the rest of him. "I guess you could call what today was a rough day, but it think it could always have been rougher."
With that shining piece of philosophy, Dylan slumped over onto the counter and half heartedly raised one arm into the arm. "Waiter," he croaked. The bartender made his way over, gave Dylan one look, and shook his head.
"I can't give you alcohol on my good conscience, buddy. How many drinks have you had tonight?"
"I ain't drunk nothing," Dylan said, face laying sideways on the cool countertop. He wasn't helping his case. The bartender looked over at Flint with a raised eyebrow.
"You with this guy?"
With that shining piece of philosophy, Dylan slumped over onto the counter and half heartedly raised one arm into the arm. "Waiter," he croaked. The bartender made his way over, gave Dylan one look, and shook his head.
"I can't give you alcohol on my good conscience, buddy. How many drinks have you had tonight?"
"I ain't drunk nothing," Dylan said, face laying sideways on the cool countertop. He wasn't helping his case. The bartender looked over at Flint with a raised eyebrow.
"You with this guy?"
It is
"Oh...yeah thanks." Orren took the ice bag, his face still heated. He stood there awkwardly in the doorway, not realizing that he was keeping her from getting by. He wondered why she was standing there in front of him. Should he say something?
"So...what's your name? Your real name I mean. I mean, I know your nickname, but it's kinda' dumb so. Not that you're dumb! I just mean..." He shouldn't say something. Orren's face was turning redder by the moment, and when he heard a laugh from behind him, he could have died.
Jack stood behind him, face in hand. His shoulders shook as he tried to keep his laughter contained. Finally, he grabbed Orren by the arm and pulled him out of the doorway. "Just quit while you're behind, kid."
Meanwhile, Dylan was finishing up with his last customer of the night. He took the money and headed home, his tired feet scraping the sidewalk. It was a long walk across town, but he'd done it plenty of times. At least it was nice out tonight. By the time he reached the south side of town, he was worn out, thirsty, and out of his favorite little pills. As Dylan lumbered by, the noise and lights of a pub caught his attention. He heard music playing, people laughing, TV's shining from the window. It looked pretty cool in there. His hand patted the thick wad of bills in his pocket as he considered. Surely Amber wouldn't mind if he got himself a drink; what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Dylan turned and slunk up the steps and in the door. He looked like a bedraggled mess: his curly hair all over the place and his clothes smelling like five different perfumes. Not that his appearance ever bothered him. Dylan went up the bar and sat himself down, leaning heavily onto the counter. He stared at the bottles behind the counter blankly, his mouth slightly agape.
"So...what's your name? Your real name I mean. I mean, I know your nickname, but it's kinda' dumb so. Not that you're dumb! I just mean..." He shouldn't say something. Orren's face was turning redder by the moment, and when he heard a laugh from behind him, he could have died.
Jack stood behind him, face in hand. His shoulders shook as he tried to keep his laughter contained. Finally, he grabbed Orren by the arm and pulled him out of the doorway. "Just quit while you're behind, kid."
Meanwhile, Dylan was finishing up with his last customer of the night. He took the money and headed home, his tired feet scraping the sidewalk. It was a long walk across town, but he'd done it plenty of times. At least it was nice out tonight. By the time he reached the south side of town, he was worn out, thirsty, and out of his favorite little pills. As Dylan lumbered by, the noise and lights of a pub caught his attention. He heard music playing, people laughing, TV's shining from the window. It looked pretty cool in there. His hand patted the thick wad of bills in his pocket as he considered. Surely Amber wouldn't mind if he got himself a drink; what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Dylan turned and slunk up the steps and in the door. He looked like a bedraggled mess: his curly hair all over the place and his clothes smelling like five different perfumes. Not that his appearance ever bothered him. Dylan went up the bar and sat himself down, leaning heavily onto the counter. He stared at the bottles behind the counter blankly, his mouth slightly agape.
The two guys didn't look like they intended on breaking the fight up anytime soon, until the boss came storming down the stairs. Orren shoved Tito off of him and stood, glaring at the other man. One of his eyes was already forming a black ring around it, and his nose was dripping blood. He was proud to see Tito's face just as busted up, with one of his obnoxious golden teeth spat out into his hand.
"Just horsing around," Tito grumbled with a lisp, his missing tooth impairing his speech. Rusco looked them both over, clearly not too happy about having to come down and shut them up. He was too busy for this shit. He looked as though he was about to lay out some kind of punishment when someone came jogging into the room, panting. Orren perked up a bit at the sight of his older brother. Jack gave him a glance. An inexperience spectator wouldn't have caught it, but Orren saw the look of "what the fuck did you do this time?" in his brother's eyes.
"Hey boss. I got some extra dough. If the other boys come back with something, we might be able to make up this loss in a couple days."
Rusco seemed to defuse. Everyone knew that Jack was the teacher's pet. He knew how to brown nose with the best of them. Jack may have gotten more flack for it if he couldn't beat the shit out of every other guy there. He pulled the wad of cash he'd gotten from the hooker out of his pocket and handed it over to the boss. "That's what I'm talking about, man," Rusco said in an approving tone. "You other shitholes could learn a thing or two from Dog, here. Instead of sitting on your asses and sucking dicks."
Rusco turned to Per and motioned for her to give the guys the ice. He then turned and headed back up the stairs to count the money. Tito took his ice and slunk off, cursing and grumbling up a storm. A couple of the other guys followed him out.
"What the hell were you doing?" Jack said as he turned to his brother.
"Tito is a cheating piece of shit, what was I supposed to do?" Orren crossed his arms stubbornly, his nose dripping blood all down the front of his shirt. Jack rolled his eyes.
"Were you at least winning?"
"Yeah, I beat the shit out of him." At that, Jack smiled.
"At least something I taught you made it through that thick skull. Go get some ice for your face you faggot."
Orren lovingly flicked his brother off as he headed for the kitchen, where Per was getting another bag of ice from the fridge. Orren paused in the doorway, watching her bend over into the ice chest. He always knew the boss picked the best looking girls, but he always wondered where the guy got a girl like Per. And better yet, were did Per get that a- Oh shit, she was looking at him. Orren quickly turned away, rubbing his neck and pretending like he hadn't just been caught looking at her ass. His cheeks turned a light shade a pink, luckily hidden under the swollen lip and black eye.
"Just horsing around," Tito grumbled with a lisp, his missing tooth impairing his speech. Rusco looked them both over, clearly not too happy about having to come down and shut them up. He was too busy for this shit. He looked as though he was about to lay out some kind of punishment when someone came jogging into the room, panting. Orren perked up a bit at the sight of his older brother. Jack gave him a glance. An inexperience spectator wouldn't have caught it, but Orren saw the look of "what the fuck did you do this time?" in his brother's eyes.
"Hey boss. I got some extra dough. If the other boys come back with something, we might be able to make up this loss in a couple days."
Rusco seemed to defuse. Everyone knew that Jack was the teacher's pet. He knew how to brown nose with the best of them. Jack may have gotten more flack for it if he couldn't beat the shit out of every other guy there. He pulled the wad of cash he'd gotten from the hooker out of his pocket and handed it over to the boss. "That's what I'm talking about, man," Rusco said in an approving tone. "You other shitholes could learn a thing or two from Dog, here. Instead of sitting on your asses and sucking dicks."
Rusco turned to Per and motioned for her to give the guys the ice. He then turned and headed back up the stairs to count the money. Tito took his ice and slunk off, cursing and grumbling up a storm. A couple of the other guys followed him out.
"What the hell were you doing?" Jack said as he turned to his brother.
"Tito is a cheating piece of shit, what was I supposed to do?" Orren crossed his arms stubbornly, his nose dripping blood all down the front of his shirt. Jack rolled his eyes.
"Were you at least winning?"
"Yeah, I beat the shit out of him." At that, Jack smiled.
"At least something I taught you made it through that thick skull. Go get some ice for your face you faggot."
Orren lovingly flicked his brother off as he headed for the kitchen, where Per was getting another bag of ice from the fridge. Orren paused in the doorway, watching her bend over into the ice chest. He always knew the boss picked the best looking girls, but he always wondered where the guy got a girl like Per. And better yet, were did Per get that a- Oh shit, she was looking at him. Orren quickly turned away, rubbing his neck and pretending like he hadn't just been caught looking at her ass. His cheeks turned a light shade a pink, luckily hidden under the swollen lip and black eye.
Lol yes it is 8pm officially
Carlos is accepted
© 2007-2026