Halcyon Halls

Who: Open to all
Where: The Lux Hotel ballroom
What: Halcyon's first art exhibition
When: Evening

In about another minute, or so, he was going to collapse. For a guy who was normally laid back, and chill, Wes had been running around, like a chicken with it's head recently lopped off. That had been the theme of his movements for the past few weeks. Ever since he'd been told that the Lux wasn't going to be available for the original date he'd decided upon. Fuck, he could still murder that fucking kid... As it was, he was making do the best he could. It didn't hurt that he'd had help, from local friends, and a few eager art students.

The last week had been a crunch, getting all of the partitions constructed, and making sure they were structurally secure enough to support the art that would be hanging on them. The ballroom had been completely transformed. The vast open space, was now filled with half walls, elaborate lighting, sofa's, and table where the food, and drinks were located. In truth, Wes had fashioned it after the Lincoln gallery in the Smithsonian. He'd always liked the set up, thought it made for a good warm environment.

It wax relaxing enough, but not so comfortable, that people would want to lounge about, rather than be up, and enjoying all that was displayed. The turn out for art had surprised him. More people had decided to enter work, than he had expected. People outside of his own classes, for one, and the quality of work was higher than he thought it would be. He himself had work hanging about. Seven pieces in total. Newer works as well as some older pieces. He'd even already kicked of the bidding on a couple himself. Primarily two of the pieces Kat had dropped off. The Day of The Dead girl, which he'd fallen completely in love with, and the skull. Now, he just had to keep a close eye on their bidding.

"Remember, unless they show you a student i.d., proving that they are eighteen, or older, they don't get shit. I'm not getting in trouble for a bunch of drunk, idiot kids." He instructed the hired bartender, as his eyes raked over the table of booze. Vivian had originally been tapped to take care of the drinks, but her ass had fled the school... what the fuck was wrong with her? Leaving with that sadistic ass? He'd never understand some women. So, one of the tenders, from back in Vale's day had been asked to handle things, thankfully, they'd agreed.

The food had been another headache. At first, he had thought to ask Cat, but with it being such a grand order that would need filling, he didn't want to lay all of that on her. Too much work to stress over. Plus, if she was too busy fucking around with food, she couldn't spend time with him. See, Wes was a thinker, oh yes. As it was, he'd decided on Indian vegetarian. The spices put it well beyond bland, so, he couldn't see any of the carnivores complaining about it either. Besides, it was an art show, not a sit down dinner.

An hour before the show, when everything had progressed beyond the point of possible falling apart, he knew it was safe enough to dash off, and change for the evening. Which he did, catching a cab over to the parlor to change. Even with this being a fancy to do, he wasn't about to cram himself into a monkey suit, and be uncomfortable the entire night. No way in hell. But, he was so what dress. A red, gray, and black vertical stripped button down, black leather jacket, and unpacked jeans had replaced the normal... 1970's roadie look that he normally sported. His hair was still uncombed, but, at least his black leather combat boots were clean.

Fuck the haters, if they didn't like it, they could get the fuck out. After dressed, he'd returned to the ballroom, a pair of aviators sat perched on his nose, a jack, and coke in his hand. It was going to be an interesting night... he could tell.

Who: Kat, and Wes
When: Wednesday early evening
Where: The garage, then who knows
What: Lessons in being a biker



The weather had put a slight damper on the plans they had originally made. A first time rider would have a hard enough time, without having to deal with slick roads, mud, and rain clouded the shield on their helmet. Thankfully, the following day seemed to provide more appropriate weather for the lessons. It was still humid as hell, which explained why his unruly hair seemed to have taken on a life of it's own. Even with his old fashioned helmet, it was still bushing out to the point of being ridiculous. Not that he cared, people were used to him looking like a wild, hairy, beast of a guy. Most thought he didn't bathe... which bothered him to some point. You could be unkempt, and still into hygiene, thanks very much. Having lived during a time in history, when sanitation wasn't wide spread, having been exposed to the stench, you came to appreciate a bar of soap. Plumbing, and toilets as well. Fuck, people didn't know how lucky they were this day, and age.

They had agreed to meet in the schools garage, which is where he had headed, after grading a few projects for his class. There were still quite a few that he needed to sort through, but there would be time for those later. He never liked to rush grading. You had to get inside the artist head a bit, try to see where their point of view was going from. If there was true effort, you had to look more deeply into it. Of course, there were those few who simply didn't give a damn, didn't try, and they usually received the same grade. No reward for the lazy. Wes sat on the hood of one of the few cars that littered the garage. Who it belonged it, he had no clue. Not that he cared at the moment, it was some place to plant his ass while he waited for her to join him.

His old helmet rested half way on the hood, half way on the black, and white fabric colored knee of his. Actually, the knees were the only part of his legs not covered in the strange looking trousers. They were cut rather wide open, fared, and ragged. The strange didn't end there, as he paired the pants with a bright yellow t-shirt, with a faded graphic of Bruce Lee on the front. His normal chucks had been traded for a pair of boots though. It had been long enough since he last rode, that he couldn't trust his feet in anything that wouldn't provide a bit of protection. Granted, he would heal if anything happened, but fuck, it would still hurt.

The bike.... yeah, he didn't know what to think. Dull eyes kept sweeping back to the machine every few moments. It wasn't cheap, he knew that. The fact that it was from that kid didn't help either. Why the hell was she fucking around with him? Unless he was magically nicer to her, than anyone else, he didn't get it. Then again, some people were completely different behind closed doors. Nah, that dickhead couldn't be that deep.

Who: Cat, and Wes
Where: The Pit
What: Wes' dream has come true! Vegas has come to the island.
When: Friday night


With his hand tucked in her own, Wes gentlemanly lead the way down to "The Pit". It was hard not to look around, and soak in all the changes that had occurred while the place was closed. It seemed to be more rock oriented, and a little less Goth. It had been great before, but he could certainly see the possibilities of the new change. Plus, there was a fucking strip joint in the place now. How could you beat that? It was as if a part of Vegas had come to the island, and he was happier than fuck about it. Strip clubs were great, and amazingly, they helped keep him in line. Strippers would dance for you, tease you, get you all worked up for the right amount of tipping, but that was it. They wouldn't touch you, they'd have nothing to do with you outside of the gig. So, that meant you had to go home, and relief all that tension with the Mrs. Really, strip clubs were a great thing. Especially if you could get your significant other to come along with you. Now that was a turn on.

"Let's grab some drinks." He yelled over the crowd. The place was packed, not surprising. But between the dj, and all the people occupying the space, holding their own conversations, it was difficult to hear. Wes weaved his way through the crowd, pushing people to the side, so that Cat wouldn't have to bump as many shoulders, before finally finding them a spot at the expansion of the bar. His eyes moved up, and down the thing, seeking out a certain bartender. "Viv!" He yelled, waving his hand to get her attention. The girl was in a hustle, but she nodded, letting him know that they were indeed next to recieve her service. "You've never met Viv, have you?" He asked, turning to look at Cat. "She's the one who usually makes our drinks when we come here. Good kid." When she finally did approach, he gave her a glancing over, "J let's you out of the castle dressed like that?" He said, teasing the girl. When Vivian merely rolled her eyes, he went on. "Cat, this is Viv, Viv, Cat. I'll take a usual, and the lady will have whatever she likes." He pulled his wallet free from the back pocket of his jeans, taking out a credit card, and instructing her to just start up a tab for him.

Vivian introduced herself to Cat, shaking the woman's hand, before moving to get their order ready. Upon returning with the two drinks in hand, she leaned forward across the bar, showing off the pretty ring that Jaida had left for her that morning. Though she didn't say so much as to what it meant, she hinted heavily with a rather straight face what it signified. "Ha ha, very funny. I'm banning you both from the shop." Dull eyes rolled behind dark sunglasses, taking his drink, and offering Cat her own. "You think I'm joking?" He was joking, but honestly, the two were ganging up on him now, and that was not cool. Yeah, the little plan was cute, but he didn't fall for it. At least, he wasn't so quickly going to buy what they were now claiming. Together, yeah, he could buy that. Engaged? Ha, whatever ladies. "Tell you what, never mind the banning stuff. You, and J could have the wedding at the shop." Surly that would throw them off, if he started playing along. He hadn't however, counted on Viv saying they should make it a double wedding.

"Changed my mind, you two are banned. Be sure you tell J." Giving his head a little shake, he looked to Cat once more, "Ready to head over to the sin den?" Whether the strip club area had a name or not, he didn't know. But, that's what he would now be calling it. After all, some people tended to do nasty things in those places.

Who: Caibre, and Wes
When: Tuesday after classes
Where: Wes' office
What: Someone needs to be brought down a peg, or two.

It had caught him on a bad day, really, that had been the only reason he had spoken up to begin with. Any other time, he likely would have shook his head, felt a brief sympathy for the Instructor, and moved on to deal with his own shit. But, thanks to a shitty night a the shop, the day before he discovered the mess, Wes had already been in a pissy mood. He quickly decided that it could just as easily been his own class room, which made the whole thing not cool. Of course, once he found out who had been responsible for the mess, that left him gunning that much more to have the whole issue addressed. The bastard had insulted his kid, right from the start. He'd been on Wes' shit list, the minute he stepped foot on the island. Then there were the other incidents involving the kid, that tended to be passed around from teacher to teacher. The kid was trouble. Worse even, he had the temper, and manners of a five year old, but in a twenty something year old, were body. That was dangerous.

Yeah, he hadn't been completely alone in this fit throwing, but Wes couldn't really fault the girl for being an idiot, and sticking her nose where it didn't belong. The young women of Halcyon seemed it be plagued with stupidity lately. Wandering around, and approaching unstable supernaturals, for what... entertainment? Oh yeah, that was really fucking smart. Wes suspected that most could not yet sense the nature of all of those they approached. It could be something that came with age, but, it would be beneficial for everyone to have it. Would likely save people a great deal of grief. But, so long as the youth thought they were ten foot tall, and bullet proof... or looking to play the helpless victim for the attention, shit like this would continue to happen. Yeah, it was obvious Wes didn't miss being under a century old. The drama was ridiculous, as were the egos.

Pretty much everything thus far had been a big cocktail of things that annoyed him. Leecee, of course had to step in, thanks to the little girls involvement.... Wes didn't care much for Leecee, hadn't since the moment they met. Then again, who could really blame him for not digging someone who not only spoke down to him, insulted him by assuming he didn't really know a damn thing about tattooing, but also dissed his shop? Wes didn't think it was unfair to run of his first impression with the witch. So, when she contacted him, saying that she, and Miklos would handle things, and he should just step back, he had bristled. Really, if he hadn't had plans to speak to the kids before that, he certainly had afterwards. But, as it stood, Leecee was member of staff, as well as the guide teacher to both of his kids, so, he did his best to seem formally polite. Not an easy task for him, as he would much rather just tell everyone what he really thought of them.

There was a reason he'd requested they meet in his office, rather than his own classroom, or the shop even. Wes spent very little time in his office, and that was obvious by it's plan decoration, and neat appearance. It didn't fit his personality at all. But, when you had a were coming in, that was known for destroying things, the last thing you wanted, was to have them around stuff that you valued. The thick soled boots he wore, were propped atop his desk. The tops of which were tucked into his trademark, ragged, decorated, patched jeans. Today he had picked out an old, faded t-shirt, with 'The Coasters', written in a cracked graphic across the front. Yeah... he didn't look like he belonged in a classroom at all. A tattoo parlor, yeah, the stage, certainly.

Who: Starbuck and Wes (maybe Jake and/or Kat at some point if they're interested)
Where: the tattoo parlor
When: around 8:00pm

Starbuck felt a lot better about the whole situation with Wes. The two weeks away from school had helped him clear his head of a lot of the negativity that had been residing there. Plus, it seemed Kat and Wes were getting along better, so what reason did Starbuck have to stay mad at the guy?

Wes and Starbuck had somewhat made amends before the break, but Starbuck still felt it was only right to talk man to man and level with one another. Wes seemed like a cool guy, Starbuck had thought so from the start, and he wanted to get back into that mind set. He also kinda missed his art lessons, and part of his reason for meeting with Wes tonight was to ask if they could resume those.

Starbuck also wanted to talk to Wes about his son, and what the new arrival would do to the already rocky relationship with Kat. If Kat was gonna try to make things work with Wes, it would likely be made more difficult with a half-brother now in the picture as well. Starbuck just wanted to prepare himself in case she decided to push him away again.

But he didn't want to think about that right now. He was feeling great, better than he had felt at school in a long time. His first day of classes had gone well, and he was actually looking forward to going to the shop. Kat was probably gonna be around, so that was a perk, even if she was too busy to talk to him. He also just really liked tattoo parlors. There was something about them he'd always enjoyed. His mom always said it was a career he should consider, but Starbuck brushed off such ideas. He wasn't good enough, not in his mind anyway. Seemed there were people who would argue with him on that one.

Walking into the shop, he looked around for Wes and/or Kat. "Hello?"

When: Late
Where: Just outside of the school
Who: Kat and Wes

There probably wasn't any question that Kat wasn't doing so well. There were dark circles under her eyes, she wasn't studying and she was acting out in class even more than before. Hell, she was lucky she had made it out of bed this morning. To be honest, she was having a difficult time convincing herself that she should stick around at all. Part of her was ready to just pack up her shit and leave while the other part, the part that held all of the common sense, was starting to agree. It hurt so much, so much more than any physical pain she had ever had to endure. Life was easier before she found out about Wes. Lonely, but easier.

Once all of her classes were finished for the day, she headed right on down to Hell to drink herself silly. Drugs, alcohol, more drugs...all were consumed without care of consequence. At one point she had blacked out but before anyone could drag her off, she was up and taking more. With the room spinning and her body sufficiently numb, it was finally time to call it a night and see if she could pass out and for once get some sleep.

Kat didn't know how she ended up making it back to the school, but she did know that she shouldn't have finished off that bottle of tequila along the way. Her stomach churned as she struggled to make her way up the steps leading into the school and her skin visibly paled as everything began to catch up with her. If she had only eaten something today, then she wouldn't have been dealing with the nausea. When was the last time she ate anyway? If pills and booze didn't count, then she couldn't remember and that was probably a bad sign.

With her stomach doing flips, she knew there was no way she was going to make it inside so instead, she headed for the nearest bush. The last thing she needed was to be bitched out by the janitorial staff for puking all of the front door. Somehow managing to pull her hair back, she heaved and vomited off to the side of the entrance, the sounds coming from her small body definitely not human. In fact, she was almost convinced that dying would be preferable to what she was doing. "Oh God, just fucking kill me," she grumbled before hurling again.

Where: Wes' Office
When: Late Afternoon
Who: Wes, and Kat
What: Wes finally shares the dark secret.

Nerves, they were certainly getting to him now. Wes couldn't recall the last time he had been this nervous. It wasn't a good emotion... it was pointless, he thought. All it did was fuck you over, when you needed to be calm, and collected. When stuttering over your words, or saying something fucking stupid, was really out of the question. Further more, it was his office, the place that rarely used. So blank, and bare, compared to the shop, or his classroom. But, this wasn't a conversation, that he needed to have interupted. So, the office was the best way to go about things. Especially if he had to worry about her reacting, in the same way Starbuck had... he shouldn't have told him. Not until he had talked to Kat, he knew that now. But, it had given him some idea, of what he might be in for. So on that side, it had been helpful. But, he didn't see any more art lessons in their future.

Not that he wanted to same kind of reaction out of her. Fuck, he didn't know what he wanted her to say, or do. He didn't know what he was going to say yet. There was really no graceful way of going about things, but he didn't think just saying 'Hey, I'm your dad.' was the best idea either. Some how, he'd manage to say it. He would do it, as delicately, as he possible could. He was sitting at his desk, slumped low in the seat, his fingers curling in his beard, while a uncountable number of thoughts raced through his mind. After this was taken care of... he would still have to tell Piper, and his other kids. He knew how Piper would react. The two had been together, when Kat was conceived. It would be another long ass phone conversation, of her telling him what a piece of shit he was. A nice big reminder, of what a fuck up he could be. Yeah, that would be helpful.

Then there was River, and Frida. How would they handle learning about a new sibling? River had been his boy, his eldest, his first born. A place of pride, in their family. Now that was gone, and he could only imagine how angry his son would be. For one, it was another betrayal to his mother, and it showed how careless he could truly be. As for Frida, well, she likely wouldn't speak to him for a time, being so much like her mother. Not that he could blame her. This changed everything. When there was a knock at his door, his head snapped up, his stomach turning so furiously, that he thought he might be sick. Taking a deep breath, he sat up in his chair, his eyes moving around the room, before finally resting on the door. "It's open." He called. This was the moment... it was time.

Who: Starbuck, and Wes
When: Late afternoon
Where: Wes' classroom

As if the day hadn't started off bad, it seemed to just turn into a complete shit slide, as it wore on. Too much booze, drugging, and sex the previous night, had left him exhausted, and rather off his game the entire fucking morning. In fact, his classes had one of the easiest assignments, that they had ever had, in one of his lessons. That was to draw whatever the fuck they wanted, while Wes enjoyed the peace, and quiet, and graded older projects, that he needed to tend to. Everyone seemed to catch on that he wasn't in a mood to be bothered, seeing that only a minimum amount of questions had been asked. There would be no more partying, on a school night, ever again. He could only imagine how the students were feeling today. Especially those who had morning classes. Haha, sucks to be them.

If that weren't enough, he came to find out, that Xael had a big mouth, and had told Kat that he had asked about her. Great... It wasn't that he expected to get away with it, but he was hoping that it would come, after he was able to talk to Starbuck. Now, he would have to be more careful with his questioning. If he gathered that Wes was fishing, and Kat found out, there was no telling how she might react. She could very well cancel that Monday meeting. The one that he was dreading, but needed to happen. It seemed, unless Starbuck told him something that completely blew his theory out of the water, that he was going to tell Kat, was he suspected... that he, was in fact, her dad.

Fuck, this was what he deserved. For all of his screwing around, and slutting it up over the years. It was amazing that this sort of thing hadn't happened before. He should have more than just three kids, if he lucky was really so shitty. Not that having children was a bad thing, but fathering a kid, that you didn't know about, had nothing to do with for years, was torture. It killed him to think what sorta life she had, and what it could have been like, if he had only know from the begining. Granted, his kids were far from spoiled, but they were loved, and taken care of. No kid deserved less than that.

Reaching up, he tugged down the brim of his trucker hat, further shielding his eyes, from the over head lights. He looked like shit, there was no denying that. Felt like it too. But, there were things, that needed to be done. Which was why, there were two canvases set up at the front of his class room. Paint, brushes, water, the works, everything they would need. He was willing to venture back into Starbucks comfort zone today, but not without some direction. Otherwise, it wouldn't be much of a lesson, now would it?

Who: Everyone who received an invite, and their guest (Check Wes' page, if you're not sure about an invite.)
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo
When: Thursday Night
What: Shop Warming party, and small gig

There was a goal here. After living in Vegas, having been to so many bitchin' parties, your standards for them rose. The normal, punch, and cookies, with a shit ass dj, lurking in some corner, wouldn't cut it here. Hell no. The goal, was to make this party, just as fucking killer, as any party he'd been to in Vegas. To make those parties jealous even. With the help of his friends, and brothers, it seemed as if that was going to happen. All the elements were in place, now it would be down to those in attendance, to make the most of it. Wes was sure of one thing, he was going to have an amazing time, there would be no stopping that.

The Spooks had been a huge help, in their time on the island. While Wes tended to his classes, they took care of setting up for the party. Doing little things here, and there. Anyone who came into the shop after that Monday, would notice that certain things were off. It was all in preparation. Now, it was ready, everything was good. A bar had been constructed against on the walls. Bottles, upon bottles were either stacked beneath it, or on the packing crate shelves they had built last Monday. Wes had been told that there was more than enough liquor... he was starting to question whether it was enough. Also available at the bar, one would find certain goodies upon request. That was one good thing, about knowing drug dealers. They made excellent party guest. Aside from the bar, another sofa had been added to the sitting area, similar to the one all ready occupying the space, but not nearly as detailed.
( Let the fun begin. )

Who: Kat and Wes
When: Late Afternoon
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoos

Kat was feeling…well she didn’t know what she was feeling and that was part of the problem. Quiet wasn’t something people would normally use to describe her but this week it was strangely accurate. First there was the whole thing with Starbuck and then Selene and fuck! It just wasn’t turning out to be a good week. At the auction thing seemed like it could prove to be interesting. Heh.

By the time that classes had ended, Kat had decided that she needed to get out for a while. Hanging out around the school was out of the question, so she dropped her shit off at her room and headed for the city. She took a cab to cut down on travel time and spent a short amount of time debating just where she was going to go before it was decided to pay a blast from the past a visit. Well, her mother’s past anyway.

Combat boots fell lightly against the marble floor as she entered and with a critical eye she gave the place a good look over. Not too shabby. In fact, it reminded her of a couple of the shops back home. “So anyone home or what?” Small hands were shoved into the pockets of the studded hoodie she was wearing and her skirt fanned out a bit as she spun around as she checked out the walls.

Kat chewed on her bottom lip a bit while she waited and turned when she heard footsteps behind her. “Let me guess…Wes?” She flashed a cheeky grin to the guy and made her way over to the counter. “I’m Kat.”

Who: Ada, Rhett, and Wes
What: Getting inked
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo Parlor (begins in the dorms)
When: Around 7:00

Oh, it had been a hell of a weekend. Ada was almost glad it was Monday and time to start class again. Almost, but not quite. She did, however, manage to drag her ass to creative writing. A little help from Rhett was required in the form of banging on her door until she came, disheveled and grumpy looking. She'd been up till just a few hours before then, and class was the last thing on her mind. Still, she got dressed, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and insisted on a LOT of coffee before they went to the classroom. It wasn't what her body was craving, but it was something.

The entire time she was around Rhett, it was a constant struggle to make sure that he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. She would catch her foot tapping, have to stop from biting her fingernails, from chewing on her bottom lip, from drumming her fingertips on the desk. She tried to keep herself occupied instead by writing, putting words on paper as fast as she could. By the end of class, she wasn't sure if she'd written anything that made sense. But she had written plenty, pages of words, lyrics with meter and some just lyric ideas.

The rest of the day was long as well, and as soon as class let out she headed to town. She was running low and she needed to pick up some more before she hit empty. It didn't take long, and she was back in her room, playing her guitar low through time for dinner, singing a little as well. It was almost seven when she set the instrument down and stood up, changing clothes quickly as an idea struck her. She wanted a new tattoo. That art teacher was offering discounts or some shit, or he had been last week. If he wasn't still, she figured she could afford it. Wasn't like she was broke. Besides, if all else failed she could just screw the guy like she had fucked Charlie to "score some free blow," right? She laughed a little thinking about that. Even though she was still pissed as hell at that vampire douchebag, his arrogance was pretty damn hilarious.

Now it was her turn to bang on Rhett's door. Dressed in low-cut denim, beat-up brown cowboy boots, and a blue western style button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, she hurried up the stairs to his room and knocked incessantly on the door. "Hey old man!" she yelled, "let's go out!"

Who: Starbuck and Wes
When: Late (just before midnight)
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo

Starbuck's day had been shit. He'd kept to himself as much as possible, hoping to avoid having his temper sparked. He was doing his best to behave and prove to Selene that he was serious about getting his life back on the right track. No more fights, and he was going to really push himself in his classes. It was harder said than done.

Ignoring the whispered gossip that began when he walked into a room or past a group of people in the hallway was difficult. It was even harder to keep his concentration in classes, especially in the first of the day since Kat was present. He'd opened one massive can of worms, and there was no closing it. What did the future hold for them now that he'd confessed his feelings? Sure, she'd known before he actually said it, but now that the word itself was out there, it made things more real.

He flipped sides again, resting (well, he was restless so maybe that term didn't fit so well) on his right side. The left had been pressed into the bed for a total of what... one minute? He couldn't get comfortable. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't do anything! His head was too full of all sorts of crazy shit, and conversations with his mother hadn't helped settle the distress inside his mind. He wanted to talk to Kat, but he'd said enough already. She'd come to him when she was ready to talk... if she was ever ready.

Starbuck was back on his left side a few seconds later, before he sat up and abandoned the attempt to rest altogether. He needed to do something. His first instinct was to go beat the shit out of the punching bag, but his hand was still fucked up, and he was giving this whole non-violent anger management thing a try. It sucked. Majorly. Starbuck needed to feel that sting, the release of endorphins, it made his emotions easier to deal with... at least that's what he told himself.

Maybe he should take up cutting. He'd heard that bleeding yourself gave a similar feeling of release, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Then he'd be just as fucked up as people thought he was! So, the only other thing he could think of was to get some fresh ink. He'd gotten the tattoo on his chest as a way of coping with his dad's death. It didn't work as well as he would have liked, because he was still struggling to deal with his grief. Maybe it was just 'cause the tattoo was fairly small. He needed something bigger. Lingering pain spread across a larger span of skin might work.

He got out of bed and dressed quickly. Gathering up a fat load of cash, and throwing on a baseball cap, he left his room and headed for the cabs.

The ride was quick, and before he knew it, he was standing outside the tattoo parlor owned by one of the school's professors. He didn't know if it would still be open when he left, so he was relieved to find that the lights still shown through the windows, and bodies were moving inside. No sense standing outside, so he walked on in and looked for the art teacher. "You got time for a walk-in?" he asked.

Who: Cat and Wes
When: Evening
What: Drinks at Heaven and Hell

Warning: Adult content

Considering she'd had an amazingly good time with Wes the first time they'd gone for drinks together post-tattoo, Cat supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised by the offer for a second night out. She was, though, and pleasantly so. She'd agreed without a second thought. After all, who wouldn't say yes to an evening out with an attractive, single man? The fact that he had a sense of humor just dry enough to keep her entertained and that bad boy appeal the drew her in like a magnet didn't hurt either. So when Tuesday rolled around, Cat made sure to get everything in her kitchen squared away early. She wanted to have enough time to devote to looking damn good. Picking through her closet for something that was sexy without trying too hard would take a good chunk of time given the clothes horse that she was.

She left mid-afternoon to do just that - pick through every section of her closet until, towards the back, she came across the perfect dress. She couldn't remember buying it and it still had the tags attached, but it seemed ideal for a night out having drinks. Outfit selected, the whole process of getting ready could officially start: she showered, blew dry her hair and pulled part of it back out of her face, she kept her make up light for the evening not wanting to overdo it, heck she didn't even really bother with jewelry. Grabbing a pair of leather boots from her closet she slid them on and zipped them closed around her calves before pulling on the dress she'd chosen for her evening out with Wes. The color was statement enough and the way it flowed over her curves like a loose bed sheet might didn't hurt things.

They'd agreed to meet downstairs where the cabs tended to wait to pick up those headed into town and so around 8ish she made her way from her room towards said meeting point. She carried a simple little black clutch with all the necessities for the night, going all around for that sexy/simple feel. She'd pulled it off quite well in her opinion, not to mention that of the students she passed on her way out. Or maybe it was that, given the material of her dress, exactly what type (if any) of undergarments she wore to prevent any unsightly lines was a topic meant for a conversation all it's own.

By the time she reached their rendezvous point, Wes was already there and waiting. From the looks of things he'd only just arrived, thankfully he hadn't been kept waiting. "Ready to see if Hell can handle the both of us?" she quipped with a smile as she approached. Something told her the two of them could get into more than their fair share of trouble if given half the chance. Tonight was definitely going to be a good time for the both of them, she was sure of that.

Who: Aqzlece and Wes
Where: That tattoo shop
When: Early Evening, Thursday
What: Leecee has always had this interest in tattooing...other people.

"Thank you." Men were so polite. Even the ones with all the metal and tattoos. A man in a ripped denim vest and faded cargo pants held one of the double doors open for her and smiled wide. His head was shaved and his ears pulled in whatever way gravity warranted. Leecee felt his pain, she too loved large earrings.

Today, however, he might not want to get too close. A day out on the town meant she stocked up as she was out of the school wards. Silver earrings dripped from either ear in a gorgeous spiral with different, small semi-precious stones following the path downards with a single, silver pole resting on its side. Her necklace was a silver chain with a myriad of small charms in different shapes and of different materials. It looked very posh, but anyone with mentally or other invasive powers would know to pull their hands back. Ms. Szczyk's mind was no book to be read openly.

She sailed into the store on black peep-toe heels. Her dress was black satin and, while generally modest, it hugged her hourglass figure in all the right ways. Cleavage-first, she stepped onto the white star in the middle of the floor and openly took in her surroundings. Some people turned, she definitely looked out of place amongst the students and various riff-raff. Still, she was interested and it was much cleaner and well-lit than she thought it might be.

Perhaps it would have been better to make an appointment, but she was in the city already. And had just happened to have some fresh baked goods in a basket. It was an old Southern way of getting to be nosy. Basket held in the crook of one arm and her clutch purse held underneath well-manicured red nails, she sailed up to the counter. "Excuse me, I'm just here to see Professor Venizelos. I don't suppose he's available for a tic?" She asked, laying on the accent thick and standing with one hip jutted. Smiling with glossed lips and fluttering mascara'd lashes, he was probably busy.

But probably not busy enough to refuse her muffins.

Who: Jaida, Wes, and Vivian
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo
When: Wednesday Night
What: Girls getting inked

They had his attention, the moment he had heard the Indian pull onto the street. The purr of the bike was distinct, and not easily forgotten. If Wes had been a bike man, he'd have an Indian. As it was, he was into classic cars, but sill, he could appreciate a gorgeous bike. With a baseball hat upon his head, a rolling stones t-shirt on his, and a smoking cigar between his fingers, he stood at the Parlor door, watching as the two rode up, and parked out front. He hadn't been expecting the riders to be women, that didn't mean his was disappointed though, far from it. With his brows raised, his hand curled around the door handle, and pushed it open. He nodded to the redhead, then the brunette, before allowing the door to close behind them. "That was sweet of your boyfriend... to let you borrow his bike." Wes grinned for a moment.

"Fuck off. You're real funny... my boyfriends bike." Shaking her head with a laugh, Vivian looked from Wes, to Jaida. "He's hilarious." Giving the man a playful glare once more, she moved into the shop, her dark eyes searching the front room, taking in everything there was to see. The blood red walls were all together too appealing, as was the art which lined it. "You have a very nice place here, Wes, right?" She questioned, and when he nodded, she went on. "This sexy creature, is Jaida, and I'm Vivian. We've come to be your canvas. Or, I have at least." Vivian had two tattoos in mind. Getting just one, wouldn't be enough, and she all ready knew it.

"Ladies... You couldn't be ugly, could you?" He'd had to give a lot of 30% discounts that week. Wes hadn't been expecting so many beautiful women to be on the island. "I can't lie, and say the two of you, aren't good looking, so you'll get the discount." He wasn't about to really complain though. He'd have the image of two straddling the bike in his mind, for the rest of the night... Yeah, he felt like a creepy old demon now. "What did you have in mind? Tonight is empty, so I'm at your disposal. For anything... not just ink, so you know." He had to flirt a bit, he couldn't help it. As Vivian pulled a folded piece of paper from her blue jeans pocket, Wes took a step forward, leaning down to read whatever might be written upon it. "Off, off, eely tentacle. There is nothing between us.... Plath, eh? Harsh words, hating on someone?"

"Very good, I'm impressed. Maybe, a little. It's more a reminder to myself." Words to help remind her, that she belonged to no one, that she was her own person. It felt right that she should have such words cemented upon her skin. Especially everything that had happened recently. "I'd like for it to be on the back of my neck. As for the other..." Her hands fell to the front of her jeans. "Here, just below the underwear line." Vivian was sure he had placed tattoo in stranger places, so surly he wouldn't mind this time around. "You should feel rather special, you'll be the first man to touch my knickers in quite some time." Giving him a wink, she grinned.

He let slip by the slightest laugh, obviously amused by the banter. "I'm glowing with honor." His attention turned to the redhead. "How about you Jaida? Looking to be tortured?"

Who: Catalina and Wes
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoos
What: Cat goes for her very first tattoo

Tuesdays tended to be slow in the school's kitchen for some reason and so it tended to be the perfect time for Catalina to slip away and spend some time on her own. Today she felt like heading into town, maybe doing some shopping, catching a movie or stopping by the new tattoo parlor that she'd read about on the school's journaling system. They were offering a pretty nice discount to boot and getting a tattoo was something she'd intended to do for awhile now - yet another life experience to add to a growing list. It was, after all, one of the few things she had yet to do in her ever-expanding lifespan and crossing it off the list seemed a good way to pass the time.

Cat had dressed casually for the day, not quite sure where it might take her, but wanting to be comfortable. She hailed a cab to head into town, stopped off for a quick bite at a little cafe she'd discovered soon after arriving and had grown quite fond of. It was off one of the main streets and allowed for some good window shopping afterwards, though nothing really struck her fancy. It was almost by accident that she came across Gun Smoke Tattoos. She'd simply turned the corner and there it was, staring her in the face. Had to be a sign, right? Nothing else was striking her fancy and she was bound to end up in the parlor eventually. No time like the presence.

She crossed the street and headed towards the shops front door, pulling it open to step inside. A bell sounded overhead to announce her presence, followed a moment later by the sound of her heels clicking lightly against the linoleum floor. She could hear a voice in the background - it sounded as if someone was on the phone - and so she busied herself with taking a moment to look over the impressive flash that covered the shop's walls. Some of it was more typical than she would pick for herself, but even in the most inane design there was obvious skill. She strolled along one side of the shop, eyes combing over the artwork displayed. So far the place was making quite the impression.