Atticus McCree (atti_mccree) wrote in sons_of_cain, @ 2009-01-02 02:23:00 |
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Current mood: | bouncy |
Entry tags: | atticus mccree, complete, full moon saloon, jo fairchild, lycan, polo towers, thursday: mid november |
Thursday evening - First meetings
Who:: Atticus McCree, Jo Fairchild
What:: Atti meets Jo on his first night out on the town.
When:: Late Evening
Where:: Full Moon Saloon @ the Polo Towers
Rating:: PG-13 for language?
Status:: Complete
After parting ways with Kaikara and a speedy walk-in appointment at the clinic, Atticus had immediately set about executing his plans for the day, which he had formulated while waiting in line for his turn. First, he was to grab a quick bite to tide him over until he could get a proper meal, because he had Things To Do. He’d found the double cheeseburger deluxe a thing of beauty, and it wasn't only his starvation talking. He’d then hit the shops around and beyond The Strip, trying to get the best bang for his buck (or voucher, in this case).
He’d managed to get a decent, inexpensive suit for interviews and special occasions, which felt weirder than he could have imagined after years of wearing mostly army type fatigues. His suit would be ready for him to pick up the next day, after the minor fitting alterations needed had been made. He’d picked out some shoes for it next, as well as a new pair of boots for everyday wear. He’d worn those out and left his old pair to be resoled, since the uppers were still in decent shape.
Once he found shoes, he’d gone looking for casual clothes. The simple pleasure of buying a new, faux-vintage pair of jeans that fit was enough to reduce him to a grinning fool. But the crowning jewel of his purchases had been a fur trimmed jean jacket that looked good with everything else he’d gotten. He had fallen in love with a long leather duster in that store’s window, but he was trying very carefully not to overextend himself. The vouchers provided him had been generous, but they wouldn't last for very long. The nicer stuff would have to wait until he was sure he had a job in town.
Loaded with his purchases, he’d hurried back to the hotel, ignoring the knowing looks of passersby. He had seen his own reflection enough times during the day to know that he looked like a crazy homeless person. He had no worries. That wouldn't last long.
In fact, he figured things couldn’t be better. Not everyone had been friendly, as was to be expected, but enough of the people Atti had spoken to throughout the early afternoon had been helpful that he now had a much better idea about how the town was set up. Of course, he’d take everything with a grain of salt. After all, he had gotten by on his trust no one motto for way too long. It would be a hard habit to break, but not impossible. Atticus’ natural disposition had been one of trust back in the day, when the world was safe for humans. He’d remembered Kaikara’s’ advice, however, and it served as a reality check. Yeah, you’re better off now, but it’s still eat or be eaten out there, Atti had mused to himself as he made his way back onto The Strip.
One last stop for toiletries, and Atticus headed back to his room. He shed the tattered layers of his clothes on the tiled floor of the bathroom, thinking that he was tempted to burn them. It sounded like a splendid idea, aside from the fact that his room didn't even have a balcony where he could safely start a fire. He dug out whatever was salvageable from among the rags, and the rest he stuffed in a plastic bag he fully intended to dump later, when he went back out.
All in all, Atticus was having the time of his life. It had been thirteen years since he had stayed in anything resembling the perfectly turned down, if small, room he had taken for the week at the Tropicana. The deprived lycan had literally wept and laughed at the same time when he finally sank into a real hot bath in a proper tub for the first time in over a decade. He'd been almost literally bouncing along later as his blessedly clean feet padded on the soft carpeting below. Freshly shaved and trimmed, he had tried on his clothes, feeling clean and happy and sexy in his new wardrobe. So much so, that he’d wanked and taken a second bath, just because he could.
Atticus finally got dressed and looked in the mirror. After a considering pause, he went back to the bathroom and gelled his short hair, which he had been shearing off himself this whole time. He teased it into an experimental sort of bed head that uncannily worked for him.
Feeling like a new man, he indulged in a full meal at the hotel restaurant. In light of his earlier epiphany, he stubbornly decided to order human steak from the menu. There was no turning back from what he was now, and he wasn’t going to mope around over things that couldn’t be changed. He thoroughly enjoyed his meal, although he realized the hunt truly added a thrill to the feeding that he didn’t expect he would miss. He wouldn’t have changed the sheer indulgence of sitting down and being served, but he made a mental note to work hunting into his schedule.
Food was followed by a nightcap at the Paradiso. Atticus was high on life and the shiny, happy newness of the city. He knew quite well these feelings wouldn’t last, so he decided to make the most of it while they did. He ended up bar hopping up and down The Strip, until he finally holed down at the Full Moon Saloon, in the Polo Towers.
Atti had a bit of a nice buzz going, and was busy meeting people left and right so he missed the fact that the same couple of unhappy looking bullies had been present in the last two bars he’d visited. He excused himself to use the services, merrily humming to himself on the way over the fact that he’d been flirting with a husband, wife and lover threesome just then.
He relieved himself and stepped back out of the men’s bathroom, wondering if he really wanted to go home with these people on his first night in town. He didn’t make it halfway to the bar when somebody spilled a drink down his back. Atticus stiffened from the icy liquid sliding down his back. On my new shirt, no less!
“Dude!” he cried out, turning around. “Be carefuh...”
Atticus never finished his sentence as a werebear punched him in the gut with enough force to toss him in the air. He landed on his back on top of one of the pool tables, breathless and disoriented. “Th-the fuck,” he ground out, trying to catch his breath. When he sat up, he recognized the werebear from earlier.
The huge lycan growled loudly, “You got a problem with me, little man?”
Atti snarled back instinctively when the guy’s friend, who smelled of mountain lion, stepped out from behind his mountain of a friend. “Oh, I think he does, mate. Doggy just snarled at us, he did.”