Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-01-18 21:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | avery, complete, cycle002, ian, marcus |
Who: Marcus and Avery (Also Open to any characters not at the York Party who would rather hang out at the bar instead)
When: December 22nd, 2012, evening
Where: The Brass Key
What: Currently it's just "I didn't want to go to that stupid party anyway" drinking
Warnings: TBD (Probably at least "M" for Marcus's mouth.)
The lack of an invitation didn't offend him; Marcus had never been invited to any of the York events. He was fairly certain Jon was explicitly forbidden from having him tag along, as well. That conclusion had been one he'd come to at the age of eighteen, so by his 30's he wasn't in the least bit surprised to be excluded. It wasn't like he was in the appropriate tax bracket, anyway. Neither was Jon, of course, but Jon was willing to put up with more of Rob's bullshit than Marcus was. That was a fact. It wasn't that he'd necessarily even want to go, either. Marcus hated formal events. Whenever he put on a suit he came across like a hired thug. Mostly, it was the fact that so many others were going. Even the minxy blonde fantasy woman had scored herself an invitation.
He'd considered asking if Bryant would be there, but ultimately just assumed that the man would be. As the only coroner in town, it just seemed likely. Bryant probably was in the right tax bracket, at least. Moreso than Jon Bennet, anyway. Besides, it was Bryant's turn to make contact. Marcus had been putting the chase down to see if the older man would take some fucking initiative. He'd once again convinced himself that he'd been doing all the work, with little to no pay off. Fuck that. There were plenty of others who'd be interested in his company, and willing to at least meet him halfway.
So when the night of the party yielded an unusually empty social calendar, Marcus predictably took himself to The Brass Key. He'd come off of a sixteen-hour shift the night before, and was looking forward to some time off in the company of his fellow regulars. He doubted many of them had managed to find their way into the York party, either. After enough shots of tequila, he wasn't going to give a shit who had and who hadn't, but initially he did note that the bar was absent of a few well-known faces. There was no Susie Q, for one. The thought of the redheaded hooker dolling herself up to go to the ball was both sad and deeply amusing. Marcus hoped she had herself a good fucking time. He'd hoped to ask her a few questions about her ties to Rob York. The idea that the man had any kind of sex life was baffling, to say the least, and Marcus couldn't help being somewhat curious. That would have to wait until he saw Susie again, however. Hell, maybe she was cleaning her act up for the holidays, to be around her kid. That seemed like something a mother would probably do.
Marcus sat at the bar, immediately demanding the bartender's attention to get a couple of shots lined up. There was no need to stick to beer that night, as he had no plans to drive. He'd walked over from his place fully intending to walk back, if he ended up going home at all.