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Aug. 24th, 2012

[info]awerething

Who: Seven & Tryst
What: Goods and services
Where: A joyride around town
When: Early morning
Warnings/Rating: Drugs and language


"You pick up the wrong trick, walk into the wrong man’s hotel room, and see how long it takes for you to wind up with your pretty little face all cut up and plastered over the evening news." )

Aug. 18th, 2012


[info]kurb

Who: Alcide Herveaux & Eric Northman
What: I WANNA DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU.
Where: Fangtasia
When: At night
Warnings/Rating: Spoilers from this season of TB + blood and non-sparkly vampire stuff.

When you came in, the air went out. )

Aug. 17th, 2012

[info]awerething

Who: Seven & Liam
What: Shameless flirting. Poor Liam.
Where: The Bank at the Bellagio
When: Backdated like whoa.
Warnings/Rating: Lots of smirking and 'casual' touching.

Ever the picture of careless charm, Seven leaned back against the cushioned seat with one arm slung along the back of the booth, curving just slightly around behind Liam’s shoulder - close enough that it would be impossible for the other man to ignore his proximity, almost as if Seven was daring him to say something. )

Jul. 22nd, 2012

[info]awerething

Who: Seven Morgan / Alcide Herveaux
What: Memories Plot
Where: The back seat of a nondescript black SUV.
Things to avoid: Bring it all on.


There was a certain beauty and elegance to counting out his money. Whether it was a thick wad of crisp, new bills, or a pile of crumpled notes hastily pulled from pockets and shoved at him with trembling hands, Seven though it was always beautiful. This time it was a rolled-up stack, secured with a dirty elastic band that stained his fingers brown as he unrolled and began to count, taking his sweet and careful time despite the desperate impatience of the junkie sitting across from him on the back seat. Seven ignored the woman – more of a girl, really – and didn’t wonder where or how she’d gotten her grubby paws on this sort of money. It was serious-fucking-business money, the sort of money that would keep her habit satisfied for nearly a month. A lesser user might have turned this much heroin into a three-month supply, but judging from the scabbed-over holes that danced up and down her arms, Seven doubted very much that this girl had that much restraint or even the sense to ration the dope. It was entirely possible that, in her excitement, she would hit too much, too hard, too fast, too deep, and be nothing but a corpse by morning.

Seven didn’t care, of course. Not as long as his money was all here, and everything seemed to be accounted for. He took a few minutes to count it out again, and only when he was satisfied did he reach into a hidden pocket in his jacket and pull out a sack that he tossed into the girl’s lap. Then he reached across her, careful not to touch her and risk getting any of her grime on his suit, and rapped hard on the window on her side of the car. A few seconds later, a big brute in dark glasses opened the door and stepped aside to let the girl out, exchanging a nod with Seven before removing an enormous hand from the gun that was holstered at his hip.

After the girl had tumbled out of the car with her precious supply clutched to her chest and the door had slammed shut behind her, Seven reached for the handle of the door on his side so that he could summon his driver back to the vehicle and start to make the trip back to headquarters. Before his fingers could close around the latch, the interior of the car began to swim and blur and blend together before his eyes, whirling into dizziness and confusion and chaos that consumed everything. Everything but the memories.