happy hour [s/c]

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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happy hour [s/c]
POSTED ON Oct 24, 2018 20:08:06 GMT
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what a pain in the ass.

all these years later and silas still has him running these trivial missions. he occasionally questions that man's use of his resources, but he isn't in a position to question his orders. even so, he wishes he could stop getting into messes like these. it would be all too easy to slough such a thing off on someone else, and yet, here he was.

concerning ezra's skills, there's no trouble at all, but when subtlety is involved, things become a different story. luring and killing the devon employee, disposing of him quietly with nothing but the cover of dusk to mask his sins? without making a scene, it's easier said than done.

he manages, of course, but isn't able to escape entirely unscathed. his frame is slighter — weaker — than that of the average man; in combination with the binder employed to flatten his chest, there's little doubt that the headbutt from the man's lairon has resulted in a few broken ribs.

if there had been any serious complications, he would know by now. it isn't as though he's never taken a beating. even so, pain is still an issue. it can be ignored, endured, but it continues to burn at the back of his mind. he can't tune it out entirely. he has to stay sharp.

he just needs a moment.

that's how he finds himself down some dodgy side street, bracing against a wall behind some old-fashioned tavern. in a few minutes he'll strip his disguise and be on his way, and it will be as though he'd never been there at all.

that's the plan, anyway.



※ ezra masquerades as a man when doing work for team rocket. so as to not confuse myself, i'll be referring to her with he/him pronouns for the duration of this thread and similar

@eun
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happy hour [s/c]
POSTED ON Oct 25, 2018 1:15:49 GMT
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when he can't see straight, he knows the buzz has hit. the prominence of a swollen cheek reminds him how obscene he can get when impelled by one to many drinks. his vision makes him stagger— just nearly the workers force him into a fall. stumbling into the outside with the chill kindling what scarce normality was held.

fingers trace the cheek, grazing crimson upon the split lip. "fuck." eun curses beneath his breath. even in the haze he notes that he is not without company. in the shadowy foul back—way of the tavern, his scrunched up attempt at seeing clearly encourages him to step towards the figure.

"hey," there is a lurch in his greeting, especially when his feet fumble over such a simple motion. "did those assholes kick you out too?" eun looms over the other, using the nearby wall as support. "honestly— i don't know the worth of hitting someone as nice as myself just because i didn't like their stupid drinks." the meaning is incoherent. at a closer point however— he leans just a bit further.

"aren't you pretty... handsome?" his opposing hand traces the left of their face, "why don't you keep me company for the night, yeah?" it seemed almost obvious that his drunkenness had taken form of daring charm. abruptly he receded from his efforts with a hand covering his mouth. "arceus... i feel sick..." eun turned opposite and hurled.


@ezra

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happy hour [s/c]
POSTED ON Nov 5, 2018 4:45:02 GMT
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oh... how messy.

it can't be said that the presence of the other individual quite eludes him, but especially considering the circumstances, the man is much too close for comfort by the time ezra finally registers his existence. the way pain clouds his mind is shameful and embarrassing. were this person anyone else, it might have been his undoing. repulsive. amateurish. inexcusable.

that initial slurred question is enough to shake his concerns, if only slightly. if this is a league tactic, it's new. he doesn't let his guard down, but he's in no hurry to act and create suspicion, either.

"ーyeah." the answer leaves him before he's even able to process what he's been asked. in the time between his words, he frantically (but confidently) pulls the pieces together. the bar. clumsy movement. blood.

"you'd think they'd be able to take a littleー" criticism, he means to say, but a touch silences him before he can finish.

what a situation to find himself in. he's had men loom over him, he's certainly been propositioned, but rarely (if ever) while looking like this. his male guise is worn like a shield, but it doesn't serve him now. physical defense is out of the question, should it prove necessary, and that vulnerability brings with it a unique sense of discomfort.

it quickly becomes apparent that there's nothing to worry about, however. as the stranger turns on his heels to vomit, ezra seriously considers making his exit... it's with great reluctance that he comes to realize that doing so isn't his best option. accompanying this drunk fool means a possible alibi, a casual escape, a place to stay for the night. the alternative is not so discreet.

he breathes a sigh, inaudible but potent nonetheless. a hand reaches out to rub small, gentle circles on the man's back.

"you good, mate? let's get you home, yeah?"

@eun