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Tweak says, "30 chars? But I wanna say more"

Grayson Charles Whiteley (banker_man) wrote in oldwest_rpg,
@ 2008-05-30 15:27:00

Entry tags:

dax marshall, donnie dooger, grayson whiteley

Who: Grayson Whiteley and Open
Where: The Heel Kicker
When: May 30, 1867, Late Evening
Status: Incomplete
Summary: After a few drinks and Grayson was feeling pretty good about himself.

The day had been a slow one. The bank hadn't been busy and Grayson had felt the need to go out and blow off some steam. Being stuck all day in his office and then tending to whatever customers he did have had become tedious, especially with the outside calling his name. He was a man that enjoyed his job but he enjoyed the outdoors as well, and not being able to partake in being outside, well...had made him a little antsy. Letting his employee's go an hour early, with pay, Grayson had tended to whatever closing up the bank needed and then headed to the inn for a nice dinner. Once he'd eaten, by himself as per usual, but not unhappily so Grayson had made his way to the Heel Kicker for the some entertainment.

Grayson hadn't been around in a while and so he tipped his hat to the barkeep and to the girls serving. Maybe they had been wondering where he'd been the last little while? Maybe not. He'd missed out coming though because of work. The bank was thriving, and that made him pleased. They'd not seen so much growth since the second year that his father had been running the bank. Grayson was proud. He knew his success was because he worked hard. It was time to spend some of that cash he'd been earning. He was feeling generous.

Later on, when he was on his fourth drink Grayson was finding the dancers that night quite entertaining, sitting off towards the back, so if the waitress was busy he could go up and get himself a drink if he fancied. No hardship there, he felt. He gave a hearty round of applause when the entertainment on the stage was over and he turned back to his...empty glass. How did that happen? He waved to one of the girls who were serving that night, letting them know he wanted another, but it was no rush, and he sat back in his chair. He was relaxed and it was a nice time right there. He was glad he decided to come out instead of just spending another evening alone at home with his sister and brother in law...they needed their private time too.

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donniedooger
2008-05-31 08:07 am UTC (link)

It hadn't been a very profitable evening for one man in particular. When he had first arrived at the saloon some five hours prior, Donnie had been in a content mood - well, as content as an outlaw could ever be - and had every intention of partaking in a bit of friendly gambling. However, the evening's activities had been far from friendly. The bastard - some guy by the name of Luke - sitting across from him at the table wore a smug grin as he dealt the next round, and Donnie wanted nothing more than to wipe that look right off the man's face.

But he managed to keep his temper in check, despite almost immediately losing the current round of Poker. The grating chuckle coming from his opponent echoed in the throats of some of those watching nearby. Had Donnie not bitten down on the end of the cigar perched between his lips, he felt sure he would have flipped the table over and accused Luke of cheating. However, the outlaw knew he had to keep his head low and his nose clean if he wanted to steer clear of the law enforcement.

Instead, Dooger rose from his seat, eyes narrowed at the man as he watched his money slide across the table away from him. Luke grinned up at him, cheeks flushed red from excitement and intoxication. "All in good fun, Reynolds," he said, extending his hand. "No hard feelin's?"

Donnie reluctantly reached out to shake the other man's hand, his grip tightening enough that he heard the bones crack. Pity they didn't break. Of course, Luke would get his comeuppance sooner or later. Perhaps Luke had beaten an Emit Reynolds at cards, but he would soon have an unpleasant encounter with Donnie Dooger.

As Donnie made his way away from the Poker table, he dropped his ruined cigar into someone's beer mug and headed closer to the stage to get a better view of the show. Brown eyes idly scanned the faces of the men seated at various tables enjoying the dancing girls. None of them were people he recognized, which assured him that it was unlikely he would be pegged as the rogue gang leader.

He paused before an empty table, reaching into the pocket of his vest for another cigar. Even as he lit the end with a match, his eyes never stopped their scanning of the room. A familiar - yet altogether unfamiliar - figure seated near the back of the room caught his attention then. He stared a moment, lifting the cigar to his lips and taking a drag before lowering it again. The fellow looked a lot like the old banker. It took Donnie a few seconds to recall that Elliot Whitely died a while back. Left his business to his son, didn't he? Yeah, that must've been it.

Lips curved into a smile even as he edged around the other tables to reach the one the banker's son sat at. He plopped down in the empty chair near the fellow and nodded. "Howdy." Meaningless greetings allowed a for a few moments of assessment.

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syxx
2008-06-01 04:49 am UTC (link)

The Heel Kicker had been busy all day - or at least nearly the entire time Dax had been there. He was quiet, as usual, only making a few acquaintances yet none of them friends. This, in fact, was nothing unusual.

He was seated near the stage at the left (if someone were to stand at the front door) but not once looked at the women who were dancing upon it - even if it was in a provocative manner. In fact, they did not interest him in the slightest. Even with his own wife deceased, he kept his vow and never took to a bed with another. It was just the way he was.

Dax lifted a foot to the table he was seated at, placing it at the edge so that he could lift the front legs of his chair from the floor. The rocking almost lulled him to sleep. In the past five hours he had been here, he only downed about three drinks. He wanted to survey the room and the people. It had been quite some time since he had been to Shelby. It was as if his brain wanted to rewrite history. No mistakes were to be made here. Not this time, not ever.

As he glanced upon the room with the sound of the piano and various loud voices filling his ears, he noticed someone that he knew; someone that he hadn't seen in years. Donnie Dooger - the head of the gang. A quirk of a smile played on his face as he puffed away on his ninth cigarette. Dax would have joined the same game of poker, however, he wasn't in the mood. But as he continued to watch him like a bird of prey, he noticed how Donnie left the table and slowly but surely found his way near the banker: Mr. Grayson Whitely. Ah, a decision that Dax would have been more cautious about. Not that it was a bad choice. He only wanted to keep himself free so that he could shoot the men who had murdered his family.

The music continued and the girls repetitively danced amongst the patrons of the room, but Dax kept his eyes on both Donnie and Grayson, his figure dipping in and out of the shadow behind him.

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banker_man
2008-06-06 02:32 am UTC (link)

((I am so sorry guys, for some reason I thought I had replied to this, and I kept scrolling by the comment count going, it's even, it's not my turn!))

Grayson hadn't even noticed the man approaching and only just when he seated himself. "Evening!" Grayson boomed back cheerfully. He had no idea who this man was, but he was more then welcome to sit down and share the table. Sometimes it got a bit crowded at the Saloon and seating was precious. Plus it was always nice to have somebody that wanted to join you, even if it were just to share your table space. And by this time, Grayson was already well in that place right before he got tipsy, he was always very cordial, friendly and a lot less reserved when he got like this. "Enjoying the show?" he asked indicating up to the stage and the ladies that were on it with his empty glass. "Of course you are, who's not enjoying the show?"

He'd noticed earlier that this man had been one of the ones playing poker over and a ways away. Grayson himself didn't actually ever play cards. He knew he was rubbish at them and so there was really little point, unless he was playing for fun with his sister and his brother in law. He liked to gamble though and on many occasion placed random bets on the poker player's themselves. He liked to predict who'd be lucky that evening. Not tonight though, tonight he was just handing the girls tips, readily and easily. "How did you do at your game over there?" He asked the other man. If the other man had, had bad luck, he'd buy the poor bugger a drink. It wasn't ever fun to loose!

Patting his pockets down he found what he was looking for and pulled out two cigars. Keeping one for himself and then offering the second one to the other man between his two fingers. Grayson was really feeling the need to share his wealth tonight.

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donniedooger
2008-06-07 05:06 am UTC (link)

[lolz. no problem, doll! XD <3]

It was obvious in the jovial tone that the other man had already had a little too much to drink. Nothing wrong with that. In most cases it made people more agreeable... and often a little less attentive to details.

Donnie didn't bother to respond to Grayson's question, nor did Grayson apparently expect a response as he answered it himself. The ladies entertaining on the stage were certainly pleasing to the eye, Donnie would have been a complete jackass not to notice them, but most of his attention was focused on the bank owner. Grayson was definitely different than his father.

Another question was directed toward the outlaw, and Donnie pulled his gaze from Grayson's well-tailored and fancy attire to his face. "Not good. Bad luck, I reckon," he replied. Maybe my luck'll change, though.

His lips quirked in a smirk as he accepted the cigar from the man, no matter that he already had one perched between his fingers. Donnie nodded his thanks. "Mighty kind of ya, fella." He tucked the cigar into his vest pocket, and again his glance bounced around the room, more out of habit than suspicion. The fact that he failed to notice an old companion seated at another table said a lot about Donnie's observant nature this evening.

When the outlaw returned his attention to Grayson, Donnie could almost feel the train wheels rotating in his head, trying to decide which route to go with this conversation. It was obvious Elliot's son didn't recognize him, disappointing and reassuring at the same time, though he had to wonder if the young Whiteley knew about his father's business agreement he had with Donnie.

"You're that banker's son, ain't ya? Whiteley?" Donnie puffed on his cigar as he leaned back in his chair.

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syxx
2008-06-07 09:01 am UTC (link)

A handful of minutes had passed since Dax began to impolitely stare among the two faces seated at a table not far from him. He couldn't help it, though; he was almost curious to know what the two were talking about. It was good for him that he had a hunch as to who the younger one was. He looked so strangely familiar, the word bank repeatedly flowing in his head.

One of the girls from the stage removed herself from the height and stepped towards Dax, apparently wanting some special attention from what seemed like a lonely man. The grin on her face was proof enough that she wanted a private show, but Dax wasn't the type to go through with something so disgustingly dirty.

She swung her leg but was unable to reach it over his hip, as Dax already had a firm grip on her ankle. Slowly he shook his head, taking a long drag from his half-smoked cigarette before lowering her leg back on the floor with the other.

"Don't try it, darlin'. Y'an' y'friends won't get anythin' from me," he said, making a twirling motion with his finger as if telling her to turn around and leave him be. Immediately his eyes fell back on Donnie and Grayson, the two that had his interest since they first joined. He could tell out of the corner of his eye that the dancer was displeased with an angry look strewn across her face. Oh well. Wasn't his loss.

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banker_man
2008-06-08 05:11 pm UTC (link)

"Bad luck, bad luck." Grayson said shaking his head. "Can't ever seem to win myself at the game. Avoid it if I can." He moved is empty glass around again. And if by magic the waitress appeared with the drink he'd motioned for earlier. "Hello love, bring this man a good bottle of something, anything he wants. Poor fellow's had a bad night at the tables." He said with a nod to the gal, after she placed his drink down and had taken the empty. She paused for a second, knowing what was coming next, as it had been happening all evening, and Grayson politely placed a folded bill on to her tray.

Grayson returned his attention back to the stage for a moment when a certain moment in the song came up. No, Grayson didn't recognize him. Then Grayson wasn't particularly looking all that hard at Donnie. And no, Grayson still had no idea about the money that was delivered to Donnie, by his brother in law Arthur. He'd long since thought he'd cleared up and cut off any unsavory characters that his father had gotten in to bed with when he opened up New Shelby Trust. Grayson had been mighty proud about that, getting his father's affairs in order in just the year he'd been there. If only he knew about the other things going on that Arthur was careful to hide.

Looking back over at Donnie, Grayson nodded his head. "That I am, though I'm not the banker's son anymore, father about a year ago passed on. I'm the bank owner now." he corrected Donnie, but with no malice. "Did you know my father?" he asked curiously. The man seemed young, wouldn't have known him all that long would he have? "Grayson, is the name." he said holding out his hand to the other man after a few moments of assessing him. To Grayson, Donnie seemed a bit rough around the edges...but weren't most of the people in the saloon? Grayson was the one who stuck out like a sore thumb, though he didn't mind.

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donniedooger
2008-06-09 04:29 am UTC (link)

Donnie didn't bother to thank Grayson for the offer of a drink. He simply said, "Whiskey," to the waitress, then watched with keen interest as the banker passed some money to the woman. As waitress moved off to get the drink, Grayson's attention moved away from Donnie for a moment. Not that the outlaw really minded. It gave him more time to think things through.

"We did business together," he replied to Grayson's inquiry about Elliot, indulging himself in the drink the waitress had just handed him. Donnie let his words hang in the air between them for a moment, hoping to spark some curiosity in the younger man.

Hearing the man's introduction, Donnie lifted his eyes to the offered hand. He freed his hand of the whiskey glass and shook Grayson's hand, deciding to throw a little caution to the wind. What did it matter, really? Grayson was drunk, indeed, but even if that weren't the case, Donnie knew that he would win in a fist fight with the banker.

"Name's Donnie." Brown eyes focused on the other man's face, searching for any indication that his name rang a bell.

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banker_man
2008-06-10 06:20 pm UTC (link)

And curiosity it did spark. Though most of the time Grayson, while drinking, tended to only be interested in the drinks, the women and the games, the fact that this man did business with his father was surprising. He briefly wondered if this was a man he'd cut the ties with when he'd taken over and now the man was annoyed and or angry at him. Gray's eyes flicked towards Donnie once again studying him. He didn't look like he intended to threaten Grayson, but it took all sorts didn't it? "Did you then? What sort of business did you and my father have? He tended to have dalliances with lots of people, so I'm afraid I'm not aware of what sort you two shared." Grayson said carefully.

Donnie most definitely would win a fist fight between the two, for Grayson had never punched a man in his life. He was, to be trite, a lover not a fighter. He couldn't shoot a gun if his life depended on it. That was Arthur's job when it came to the bank's security. He shook the other man's hand with a good businessman's shake. Firm but flexible.

"Donnie you say?" The name rang familiar. Possibly a name he'd heard his father and his brother in law had spoken about? But then there were so many names that the two spoke about that Grayson couldn't remember them all now could he? "Name rings a bell but can't quite place it." He replied with shrug and then a sip of his drink. "I'm going to guess you're not one of the partners my father had on over for dinner at all while he was a live." Grayson smiled a bit. He'd have remembered if this gentleman had come over, for sure. His sister, Lila, would have probably had a mild heart attack at the man's attire.

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donniedooger
2008-06-13 01:35 am UTC (link)

In spite of himself, Donnie felt his lips curve into a smirk at Grayson's reaction. "Ours was a sorta hush-hush agreement. I took care a-the things your daddy was too yella to do himself." Donnie cocked his head to one side, considering the other man. "Though maybe you didn't know much 'bout that side a-the family business."

Another swig of whiskey, and a casual shake of the head in response to Grayson's assessment of who Donnie was not. The very idea of being one of those invited to Elliot's house for dinner, given their private partnership, was a very amusing thought. So much so, that the outlaw laughed, his gaze once again flickering about the room as if in search of someone else to share his mirth.

That was when his brown eyes rested on a familiar figure seated alone a few tables away. It was a face Donnie thought he'd never come across again and he felt his own interest spark to life. Maybe Dax had changed his mind about leaving the gang, after all.

However, Donnie had more important business to finish here with Whiteley first. He turned his head back to look at Grayson. "Next time you go in that bank a-yours, check out your pa's payroll. First a-the month is comin' up, ain't it?" Another smirk.

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syxx
2008-06-13 10:36 am UTC (link)

Whether or not Dax had been watching them the entire time only he would know. But to make things clear, he was not. He did not catch that Donnie laid eyes upon the old friend, which was both good and bad. Dax didn't ask to be seen, but at the same time, he secretly wanted it. If it happened, it happened. If not, then oh well.

During that time, another female dancer made her way to Dax's table, clapping her foot down on his table and shoving a finger into her mouth. He rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket then whipping out a five dollar bill.

"Here. To leave me the fuck alone," he said, shoving the money into her brassiere then motioning for her to leave, just like the last. When were they going to learn? Perhaps he should have told her to tell her friends that he was off limits. It seemed shallow of him, but he didn't want a whore. Not now, not ever.

Dax almost caught his breath, catching a glimpse of what looked like Donnie looking in his direction. A grin crossed his face only slightly as he shoved a fresh quirley into his mouth for smoking. Oddly enough, he wanted to get up and join the two - something that would be considered daring for Dax. He was more of the quiet type; which is probably what made him seem intimidating. All the better to keep the assholes and dipshits away from arm's reach (otherwise they'd end up with broken necks).

Instead, Dax relaxed more than he already had been, rocking the chair just the same.

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