Brian Campo (briancampo) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-07-27 17:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | brian campo, nesryn rowan |
Making a Pact
Who: Nesryn and Brian
What: Talking
When: Night (Back-dated Before the Group Plot Post)
Where: Lucky’s in Searchlight
Rating: PG
Lucky’s Saloon, established 1984, sat on the south end of Searchlight, Nevada, just off the double-lane highway 95. It was a low-slung building with a wide front porch, the seating carved out of cedar and branded with the bar’s logo: an ace of spades. The structure branched into multiple rooms: a long, narrow bar and tables up front, a small stage and kitchen in the back, slot machines and pool tables flanking either side of the main room. There was also a private room for poker. A secondary exit off the pool area led to an open-air patio. In the beginning, Lucky’s was a simple watering hole, but as the years wore on, it attracted bikers, music enthusiasts, and supernatural clientele on their way through town.
Brian got the manager position after playing a few gigs when he first got to town. It was apparent to the owner that he knew how to deal with the local touring acts. He had a knack for breaking up bar fights and a second sense about trouble, all things that let the owner worry about the money… Especially the money generated in the private room. Brian didn’t ask questions.
Tonight it was loud and crowded, the customers in a good mood. Music kept the energy going between sets. The werewolf was behind the bar changing a keg.
The bar wasn’t normally her scene. While she had her days of partying, now that she had relocated the drinking and partying scene was no longer what she was after. But she knew she had a duty to check on Brian, the strange man who bled all over her car and apartment.
There was no getting rid of that smell; no matter how many products she used, how much scrubbing of the seats and the floors, that tang was always below the surface reminding her that it wasn’t finished.
Recalling the night they’d met, Nesryn noticed Brian’s black shirt read Lucky’s in the same fashion her work uniform mentioned Terrible’s. Putting two and two together wasn’t hard and so she dressed up a bit for the setting so as not to look out of place and she headed toward the lively place.
Before too long she was pushing open the door. The music was loud. Nesryn heard it well before ever entering the place but it made her smile. She loved music of all kinds. Her frame swayed a bit, grooving as she pushed lightly past a few people having a good time. A few steps more and she was at the stretch of polished wooden counter, settling into a free stool.
Sharp eyes would cast around. He was here, she could smell him. Would he even want to see her? That little bag of stuff had been promising, adorable even.
Brian settled the keg into place and straightened up. “You need to hit the gym, brother,” he joked, slapping his coworker on the back and dodging a bar towel that snapped his forearm. Then he looked up, a furrow forming between his eyebrows. The wolf in him recognized a familiar presence. It clamored in its human cage, wanting to put a nose to the ground and track, paws covering territory, dodging between chair legs and people. Brian felt the stirring but tamped it down. ‘Thaaaat’s ridiculous’, he mused to his silent partner. Here he could rely on other senses, like his eyes. He craned his neck and searched the sea of faces.
Three o’ clock. A petite brunette climbing atop a bar stool.
“Nesryn!” He side-stepped past a bartender dropping ice into a highball glass. The bar was dim, illuminated by a series of industrial pendant lights. He stepped into the circle of warm, yellow light above her seat. “Hey.” He picked up a paper coaster and set it in front of her. He hoped it would come as a relief that looked better than last time. No blood seeping into his shirt, color in his face, less sweat.
Over the music she heard his voice as clear as the day was bright. Her head turned and her smile erupted, hand lifting in a wave. “Hey!” So he looked alright. That made her feel better. Clearly he had use of his limb and she felt a bit foolish for worrying though now that she could see for herself the feeling of unknown abated.
In his natural element he seemed to move with the tide of the music; graceful and yet confident. It was a good look on him. Hand would go beneath her chin as her elbow perched on the lip of the counter.
“I’ve never been in here before,” she confessed, shouting over the music so he could hear her clearly. She didn’t know what was good. Every place had specials, but there were always the standard drinks like beer or the usual lineup of liquors.
She was right: he was in his element. The bar fit like an old, leather jacket. The stage was a place that belonged to the human parts of himself, a musical tether that bound the two halves of his life -- an artist’s human heart and a lone wolf’s first steps towards freedom -- into one seamless place in time.
“Oh yeah?” That explained why he hadn’t noticed her before. Brian braced his hands on the bar. It was lacquered now, but years of abuse carried the history of the town in the wood. A dent here, permanent marker and etchings there. It was accepted as part of the saloon’s charm. Every year it collected more memories, every year another layer of polish. Near her elbow, someone with a pocket knife had carved the outline of a tall, evergreen tree. Brian didn’t know why, but it fit her, an impression that notched into place in his mind.
He noticed subtle differences in her appearance from the convenience store: she was wearing make-up and a top that revealed part of her shoulders. There was a rose-gold necklace reflecting light from her collarbone, the pendant a script-letter ‘N’. “So what do you like?” he asked, moving again, hoping she didn’t notice the inspection. “Are you more of a beer person or mixed drink?”
A list of the bar’s specialty drinks was written in window-chalk on a mirror behind him. There was also a selection of craft beer on tap from two local spots: Brasserie le Breeze and Banger Brewing.
Those sharp eyes hadn’t missed the dip in his gaze. The little charm sat comfortably along the line of her clavicle, simple yet tempting. Her father had gotten it for her on one of her birthdays - it was the only real piece of jewelry she wore though once in a while she would don earrings if she was feeling fancy. Never silver, though.
The corners of her lips held strong in a smile. “What do you recommend?” She countered loudly, tipping her head with interest. This was his place and she trusted a recommendation.
And then she considered the second part of the question. “I don’t drink much. Probably safer to go with beer.” Mixed drinks could be dangerous though they really couldn’t feel the effects. The taste always sat heavily on her tongue afterward, though, and it was hard to shake it.
Okay, so she was a lightweight. “Got it,” he called out, wearing a smile as he reached under the counter for a pint glass. “We can’t have you falling off any bar stools.” Brian went to the tap and poured her a kolsch at 5% abv. He set it on her coaster and gave her a couple of bar napkins. “This one’s good.” He lifted his left hand in the air as he talked, his gestures a lot freer. “It’s better with bratwurst and cheese dip, but uh,” he made a face, “our kitchen’s not known for cuisine. So I’m gonna help you out… give you some pretzels. It’s just my way of saying thanks.”
He poured some in a bowl and passed them to her.
“Aren’t you sweet,” she teased, laughing. The pretzels were accepted, eaten. Sitting up straighter, Nesryn took a moment to listen to the room. She didn’t find anything remotely interesting that wouldn’t be associated with the particular scene.
The drink was accepted. She drank it and found that the taste was lighter. It was something she would probably order again, she liked it. “Thank you!”
Somewhere in the bar someone was singing - she could hear it clearly and hummed along though the slurred notes were nowhere near where she was seated.
“It’s the least I can do. Bare minimum.” He let her enjoy her food and drink for a moment in peace. Then Brian’s ears picked up her humming. He followed the melody to its source, a cluster of ruddy-faced bikers on the other side of the room, halfway on their journey to Utah. They had probably stopped to crash at the El Rey motel overnight, forty bucks a pop, free air-conditioning and HBO. What was the song? Brian tipped his head and listened to the lyrics. It was something from the eighties. He stopped mid-wipedown of the counter.
“Is that Bad Medicine?” he asked in disbelief. No matter where a Jersey kid went, Jon Bon Jovi would follow.
Nesryn nodded. Her grin widened and she lifted her arms a bit, swaying from side to side. “Your love is like bad medicine,” she sang, eyes shimmering in the dim bar light. “Bad medicine is what I need, woah.” And then she laughed softly.
Her hands would settle on the bar and another sip from the glass would be taken. “What’s wrong with Bon Jovi? He had a lot of hits, you know.”
“Nothing!” he said, a bit comically louder than he had to, as if his human family was eavesdropping from the other side of the country, where Jon Bon Jovi was probably doing crafts in an old folks’ home, or another obscenely down-to-earth thing that would win over the hearts and minds of Americans and make them forget about the 2013 release of the album ‘What About Now’.
“I’m not even allowed to talk about this,” he said, in case the Garden State origins of his accent weren’t clear. “My parents made that abundantly clear.” He was banned from bringing up the subject under their roof. “Which is fine, because if I brought it up, they’d remind me of my eighth grade talent show performance, where I’m hunched over a keyboard,” he leaned forward to paint the painful vision, “Belting out the lyrics to ‘I’ll Be There For You’. It was embarrassingly earnest.”
Brian raised a pair of devil horns. Rock on, Jon.
He filled a glass of ice water for another customer and passed it over.
As he painted that picture for her, Nesryn giggled. “I bet you were fantastic.” It wasn’t a bad thing to be into Bon Jovi - she liked a few of their hits and didn’t know a lot of the deeper tracks, but some bands just couldn’t write a bad song and she felt as if they were in that category. She found that his being so in tune with music fit him.
She took another sip from her glass, thoughtful. “What other secrets don’t I know?” She teased, curious but playful. “Did you have imaginary friends? A pet turtle?”
“Both. It’s an imaginary turtle-friend.” Reaching back to rub his shoulder through his t-shirt, he thought about her question. It was a lot easier to talk to her when he wasn’t doing it through a haze of pain. “I still play. My band’s here once or twice a month. I don’t know your taste in music, but we’re very loud. I do a lot of long-distance running, with my regular legs, just to clarify.”
Brian picked up a glass he’d been nursing for a while and took a couple of pulls. At Lucky’s there was a liberal policy on employees getting buzzed at work. “What about you?”
Listening, she nodded. “Really? You guys play here?” That was neat. “I can do very loud,” she assured him. The chance to see his band perform was one she didn’t want to pass up. “Let me know when your next show is.” Without knowing why, she felt excited by the prospect of seeing Brian playing music.
“Oh me? I’m super boring,” Nesryn replied, waving her hand at him. She took another sip from the glass and smiled. A bit of a print from her lipstick left a ‘u’ shaped ring on the edge of the glass.
“I also like music, but I don’t play. I tried for a second and gave up. Uh, I love to dance and I am good at that. My imaginary friend was an elephant.”
For some reason, that made him laugh. “At least you can pretend to ride it,” he said. “What am I going to do with a turtle?” Brian looked at the dark stain on her pint glass. He liked the idea of her dancing. Based on the off-key way she sang, she’d probably do it with a lot of un-self-conscious energy. Go big or go home.
“Hey.” He drank his beer down to the last bit of foam and set his glass aside. Brian rubbed his lips together. “Do you want to talk about the other night?” He thumbed in the direction of the pool table area. “If you don’t, no pressure. But if you do, I can take a break.”
“Turtles are very wise,” she replied, her smile playful. Or he could watch it crawl around slowly and admire the patience of the little thing.
At the proposal to move outside to talk, Nesryn nodded. “Sure.” Another drink or two would be taken and then she moved from the stool. It was something that needed to be discussed, at least so she had the full story and wasn’t left to the odd, late-night speculations held in the nest of her blankets.
Waiting for Brian to lead, Nesryn followed along wherever they were headed.
He found his way around the end of the bar and met back up with Nesryn. The werewolf put his hand on the back of her arm and pointed in the direction they were headed, leaning down a few inches to give her some details in case they got separated. “On the other side of the pool tables, there’s a door that goes outside,” he said. Brian stepped in front of her to shoulder his way through the patrons in the bar, through a cased opening into the billiards room, and past four tables packed with players and their pool sticks.
He hit the push-bar on the door and stepped outside. About a year ago, the owner had constructed a partially-covered patio for spill-over. It was most popular during the day. There was nobody on it now except a smoker on the far side, and he was in the process of extinguishing his cigarette. Brian led her to a pair of wooden plank benches and a table under the sky. “This okay with you?” The sun had been down for a while, so the temperature hovered around seventy and dry.
Navigating through groups was second nature, but not in this setting. The touches and soft murmur of instructions would earn a nod, she complied and followed as directed making sure to keep to herself. She knew she could attract attention if she wanted to, and avoiding that here seemed best. There was a task at hand that needed to be done.
The night air was a touch cooler on her skin. She found it easier to breathe. Smoke and ash from the cigarette being extinguished was caught but she would press on.
“Perfect,” she nodded, settling down on one of the benches. A leg would curl beneath herself and once the other person vacated the porch she began to speak softly. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Nesryn stated calmly. “I’ve been worried about you.” He’d stained her car but also the recesses of her mind and she found herself constantly going back to replay the events over and over again.
Brian straddled and sat on the bench across from her. Breathing out, he rested his forearms on the table, hooking his index finger into a set of thin, black cords on his wrist. Farther up his bicep, a line of tattooed lyrics disappeared inside his t-shirt sleeve, the words ‘howling more’ just visible. “I didn’t mean to do that to you,” he said. “I wanted to explain something to you. I felt like I should?” Brian shifted on his seat. “Then, as I was trying to figure out how to explain that, something else happened, and now I need to explain that to you, too. I’m trying to figure out what to say first.”
He seemed to have a lot of weight on his shoulders. Her brow furrowed a bit with concern though it was general concern considering how much he now had to say. “Maybe start at the beginning?” She replied, trying to help. That was usually easier said than done but the beginning was typically a good place to start.
Patiently she would wait. A conversation like this one didn’t need to be rushed or put through the motions of. She wanted to hear all of it and weigh in on anything that may be too alarming or dangerous.
“Okay.” Brian framed up his hands. “This first part, kinda vulnerable, so I’m gonna rip the band-aid off.”
It occurred to him, belatedly, that he should have poured himself a shot or three before coming outside, but it was too late now. “The reason I took off is because I realized when I got to your apartment that I already knew your scent. I caught it when I was running that night. The wolf,” he clarified. “I, me, I picked that fight with the other wolf. I did it because…” He let the sentence trail off. “It’s been a long time since I was around another wolf and then it was my pack. I must’ve gotten territorial. And then you were sitting there in front of me, fixing my shoulder, looking--”
Brian broke off. He tried to figure out how to put it, but it was hard to put into words how overwhelming it had been to reach a lighting-bolt conclusion about himself, while he was injured, and Nesryn was within arm’s length of him. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
As he spoke her eyebrows would arch upward. She listened to the tale, finding it surprising but then not that surprising. A few bits of conversation from their night of patching came to her - the question he’d asked about her running, and around this area - and things began to fall into place.
The last comment made her cheeks flush. Her smile grew a bit sheepish, a finger twisted up into a few strands of her dark hair. “Thank you.” She’d been called that before but the way he said it she was apt to believe it.
“So you got territorial about me,” she reiterated. That made sense and yet it seemed they were meant to meet up with each other in some way. “Now that I know what you smell like, I’ve picked your scent up around here before.” Brian was all over the place out here.
“I know.” He nodded. “The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t seem new. Like it’s been in the back of my head this whole time,” he said. “I knew you, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten in your car. But it was too faint to track, or I didn’t key into it until the other wolf was circling that same ground.”
He rubbed his upper arm.
“It wasn’t just a wolf.” Brian’s eyes ticked up from the wooden table to Nesryn’s. “I went back. The good news is, whoever he is, he walked away.”
That last part hit her hard. She was an outsider. She had no pack here and while she was on good terms with the cougars, Brian was the only one of her kind she had ever met. The idea of other wolves like them out there frightened her a bit; what if they didn’t respond well to her? What if someone else picked up on her scent too?
“I’m glad they made it out.” She really was. “I feel comfortable around you,” Nesryn admitted. She didn’t know why, or really understand why, but Brian was easy to be around.
Brian watched her reaction to the news of the werewolf. He would recognize that ‘wind sucked out of you’ look and it felt like a punch to his gut. He prayed to god he hadn’t brought trouble down on the town. You never knew with a beaten wolf after a fight, whether it would take the hint that it was on the wrong turf, or come back with reinforcements. But he wasn’t going to put the weight of that worry on Nesryn’s shoulders.
“So do I.” Brian reached across the table and covered her hand, his thumb rubbing hers, the gesture meant to indicate that she could trust him, that he was grateful to her. “Want to make a promise?”
His hand on hers allowed her to relax, to take a breath. She smiled and looked up at him. Whatever what came, they would figure it out. She knew the risks that came with leaving her family and the pack in Portland.
At mention of a promise, she nodded. “Okay, what kind of promise?”
Her fingers would turn, scratching gently at the inside of his palm in a gesture she knew to be calming.
Brian opened his hand to hers. Something about the weight of her hand and the contact with his palm made the worry drain out of him, made him okay with talking. “I don’t have a pack anymore,” he confessed. “When I was human, I shot the alpha on a camping trip. It was an accident. His mate’s the one that bit me, but then I guess it made sense to bring me in. They were… god, they were a wreck.” He shook his head. “More wolf than human, competitive, confrontational. I couldn’t make it work. So I came out here alone, and I keep telling myself it’s a good thing.” His inflection tipped up at the end, like a question. “But then this happens.”
The werewolf watched her scratching. He turned his wrist over and steepled his fingers against hers, then laced them in between. “I don’t know where your pack is, but I know they’re not here. So if you want, Nesryn, you and me… We can run together. We can have each other’s backs.”
He was a bitten wolf. A breath was uttered softly and she listened while he spoke, frowning a touch at the story. That was a hard one and it was no wonder why he came out here. And then the bombshell was dropped.
“I — my pack,” she started, figuring honestly was the best option here. “We’re prominent in Portland. My dad is an Alpha of a chapter of werewolves there. I was born with this.” It didn’t make her any better or any more entitled, but her pack was strong. Her father would’ve been deeply unhappy. But then it wasn’t his decision to make.
But then her smile ticked up a bit, and she nodded. “I want to run with you.” It was safer that way, at least for peace of mind. But then that would mean getting closer to Brian, keeping watch over each other.
The news came as a wave of, not relief exactly, but warmth. It was positive, a welcome new part of his life, one he hadn’t realized he was missing until now. She would be different from him, he knew: born weres always were, and it probably accounted for some of the differences in their disposition. There had always been a backwards kind of prejudice in his pack, a sentiment that a bitten werewolf wasn’t born into anything, that they were more ferocious because they had to scrape and claw for every ounce of respect in a never-ending wheel of which wolf would be omega, because there was no family hierarchy to determine it. Every wolf in his pack was bitten. Brian had thought the whole thing was a load of testosterone-fueled bullshit.
This could be different.
“So it’s a deal,” he said. He gave her hand a squeeze. And there was a full moon in less than a week, which would mark the first opportunity, unless they decided to go out sooner. The thing about planning for a later run was that you ended up wanting to do it as soon as possible. “Nesryn. Do you always go by Nesryn, or do you have a nickname?”
She watched his expression as he debated inwardly, patient as always as things were sorted through. And then her smile grew as the deal was confirmed. Portland seemed like a separate life, something that occurred a whole lifetime ago, even. But it would always be carried with her.
“Nessi, or Ness,” she added, shrugging. “Hey you works, too.” Laughing softly, her fingers squeezed his own. She was glad they’d met even under such odd and unfortunate circumstances. It was as if something inside her clicked into place.
“Now that’s just rude,” he teased, smirking at the idea. “I mean, I’ll do it, if you want, but Nessi is better.” Brian groaned and stirred, a slight pivot to get up from the bench. It was time to get back to work. He used her hand as leverage to help her up too. “C’mere.” He opened his arms for an embrace. In the weeks ahead, they were going to learn a lot about each other. They would have to get in tune. Being responsible for someone else’s back was a serious bond.
Again she laughed. He had a great personality, she enjoyed the back and forth exchange of teasing. “Nessi is way better,” she agreed. The end of her nose would crinkle at the idea of someone calling her hey you.
At the groan her eyebrows lifted but she got the idea that break time was probably over. With his help she got up and closed the distance between them. Arms would wind around him and she held on. The contours of his frame were felt beneath his shirt as she pressed against him and she found that she liked the proximity.
But she didn’t linger. Pulling back, away, slowly, Nessi would grin. “If they fire you for being late it’s totally not my fault.”
Brian breathed steadily for the seconds that she was close to him, the air coming in and out of him in almost a meditation. He had the urge to wrap her up, to put his head on her chin and keep her safe. He stroked the back of her hair for an instant and let her go. “Nah, this is the last thing I’d get fired for,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ve done way worse. This might get me a raise.”
He pulled out his cell phone and began to scroll through the menus. “What’s your number? For my next inevitable disaster. In case I need a tourniquet or a cough drop or something.”
“Do I look like a grandma or something?” She teased, laughing. Her phone would come out of her small handbag and she rattled off the number she’d memorized long ago. And then her camera was lifted. “Say cheese or else.” That one would go on the profile so she would know it was him calling.
“By the way. My last name is Rowan,” she added, for good measure. If any of her pack showed up and he got wind, at least he could run before any trouble started.
“Ch-- cheese? Jesus Christ.” Brian laughed as his photo was taken. That had never happened to him before. “Mine’s Campo,” he said as he saved her contact information. “And no, for the record, you definitely do not look like anybody’s grandma. Although grandmas get a bad rap.” He pressed the power button on his phone and tucked it back into his jeans.
“Shoot me a text when you want to run, Nes,” he offered, a hint of a challenge in his tone as he took a first backwards step away from her. His hands were in his pockets. “It’s gonna be a good time.”
“Oh good,” she giggled, typing his information in and saving it to the profile picture in her contacts. “Cause I was going to start getting a little scared there.” There were plenty of grandmas out there who looked super hot though. Campo, huh?
“How about later? After your shift?” Her phone went away and she turned as he moved off toward the saloon. “If you can keep up, that is.”
“Me? Oh, I’m free after ten,” he tossed back. “I was planning to take it easy on you. I heard born weres get domesticated.” Brian’s shoulders lifted. But there was a quirk at the corner of his mouth, as though he was having a rough time keeping a straight face.
“Oh they do? Where’d you get your facts from? The children’s section of the library?” She smirked, shrugging. “I guess you’ll just have to prove that you’re faster.” Biting back a giggle, Nesryn offered a wink.
“I’ll meet you here at ten, okay?”
With that, she was twirling away, bubbling with excitement, to get back home and change in an effort to be comfortable for what came next.
'Wow’, Brian thought, going back into the saloon. ’That one burned.’