Who: Trinity Cavanaugh & Dylan Haynes & Varekai Aristades What: A 'chance' encounter. Why: Because there are those that feel Dyl needs to be put in his place. When: Late night. [Directly after the rendezvous of Vare & Dyl.] Where: The outskirts of campus. Rating: R [For language & violence] Status: FINISHED. Date: Sunday, July 27, 2008
He was pissed to say the least. He was pissed and he was drunk. He was pissed and he was drunk and he was trying to get as far away from the dorms as possible - as far away from Evan and Vare that he could. At the moment he wanted to have nothing to do with either of them. Over the years all they had brought him was grief and it didn't look like that was going to be changing any time soon. Okay, maybe he shouldn't be so pissed at Vare... but had she gone insane!? They had gotten drunk, canoodled a bit and then she had the tenacity to ask him to feed on her. That just didn't fly with Dylan. There were so many reasons - ranging from the fact that she was Lexie's Familiar to the fact that it was against the rules to the fact that it just... those bright blue hues were clenched shut for a moment but quickly opened once again when that dizziness took over.
Those feminine hands were brought up to pull the collar of that black peacoat [worn simply for appearance] up before being shoved into the pockets as he continued to slip and stumble his way towards the woods. Dylan had no idea what he was going to do once he got there, but in situations like this it was best to take it one step at a time. Head hung low, trying to stay in the shadows lest he attract the attention of- well anyone. "Godfucking shitcocker." His eloquence was only deepened by his inebriation it seemed.
Stopping for a second he would reach into his back pocket and pull out his pack of Newports. Crush-proof box, my ass. A lighter and a single smoke was taken from the pack before he lit up and placed them back into the pocket of those slightly faded dark grey jeans to appeared nearly skin tight on his boney figure. Inhaling deeply he would take in that delicious smoke before expelling it into the summer night. A sudden wave of terror washed over the thin boy. That cigarette was pulled from his lips as he quickly looked over his shoulder.
Why did he suddenly feel as if he was being followed. It was probably just his paranoia farther fueled by the amounts of alcohol he had ingested. After Varekai had left he had finished off that bottle of Overproof White Rum [126 proof, yo!] before moving onto the less comforting half-empty bottle of Jim Beam. Of course it had been half-empty, this was Dylan Francis Haynes we are talking about here. Pessimism for him wasn't just a way to look at things, it was a fucking lifestyle.
Trying to shake off that feeling he would continue walking. Continue smoking. Continue pondering what he had done wrong to deserve all of this shit! IT JUST DIDN'T MAKE SENSE!? "Thanks, Mama. For everything." That Newport was taken away from his lips once more as he flicked the ash and proceeded to take another long drag. "You stupid gypsyfucking bitchcunt."