Who. Hayden MacMahon & Katya Yershov What. Cathy and Heathcliff walk into a bar. Yep. Where. Club Heat (Chicago, IL) When. Backdated to Saturday night, July 28th 2012 Warnings. TBD? Seriously, TBD. aksjfa
Hayden hated Saturday nights even more than Friday nights. Mostly because Friday nights were the beginning of the weekend, but by Saturday night? The hoard of drunken morons was already getting old, and like any self respecting bartender Hayden was counting down the hours until Sunday night when all the drunks would call it an early night and go back to their boring nine to five jobs on Monday. It wasn't usually like this at Happy Endings considering the sort of crowd they usually attracted, at least drunken reincarnates were always at least a little more interesting. Not just dumb shits drooling on their own shoes, though sometimes that wasn't such a good thing either. Drunk reincarnates sometimes set your place of business on fire.
So that's why Hayden was at Club Heat, picking up shifts there on the weekends while Happy Endings was finishing construction. The whole place hadn't been burnt down, but the fire had been big enough and a lot of the structure damaged from various throw downs that the post-construction inspections were taking longer than it would have otherwise. Hayden didn't mind all that much, mostly because he was still getting paid somewhere. Club Heat wasn't so bad compared to other places, and it was in walking distance from his place. Also a bonus, the reincarnate of Cathy wasn't a constant presence on stage to torment him while he acted like he didn't notice her. His act was flawless, so much that he could even convince himself that he barely acknowledged her existence. He and Heathcliff were no strangers to indifference, but deep down they both knew that's all it was. An act.
One day you will have to admit that her path has been joined with yours. Hayden scoffed at Heathcliff's words, shaking his head as he finished pouring a scotch on the rocks and slid it down to the man in the corner, inwardly bristling. He was not signing up to be some pawn in another self-indulgent, twisted nightmare that hopeless idiots everywhere had the nerve to call a romance. What was so romantic? The story of Heathcliff and Cathy was anything but to him, to him it was a horror story, and the previous reincarnates of the pair were proof enough of that. Suicide? No thank you. Hayden would rather have no part in it. His life wasn't exactly amazing, but it wasn't so bad yet that he was willing to kill himself over some girl. Even if that some girl happened to be Catherine fucking Earnshaw. Especially if that girl happened to be her. Hayden didn't even bother looking up when the next person walked up to his area of the bar, too busy polishing a glass as he spoke to them without bothering to make eye contact. "What'll it be?"