Blake Morrison (blake_mb) wrote in vivavampvegas, @ 2010-10-10 20:09:00 |
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Current mood: | dorky |
Making a Friend
Who: Blake and Chris
Where: Avarice II
When: Backdated to Wednesday, September 29th
Now that Avarice II was starting to have open-mic night, Chris Stryker had jumped at the chance. While Bella had promised him she would give his band's demo to the owners... why miss a chance to possibly impress a few people? So, taking to the stage with his acoustic guitar, clad in off-white jeans, a gray hoodie with the sleeves cut off, and his nails painted black, he started to pluck away as he sang out the words to a song he'd written while in one of his depressions recently.
"I don't know how else to put this.
It's taking me so long to do this.
I'm falling asleep and I can't see straight.
My muscles feel like a melee,
My body's curled in a U-shape.
I put on my best, but I'm still afraid.
Propped up by lies and promises.
Saving my place as life forgets.
Maybe it's time I saw the world.
I'm only here for a while.
And patience is not my style,
And I'm so tired that I got to go."
"Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
Did you really think I wouldn't see this through?
Tell me I should stick around for you.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go.
I get to go home in one week.
But I'm leaving home in three weeks.
They throw me a bone just to pick me dry."
"I'm following suit and directions.
I curl up inside for protection.
I'm told what to do and I don't know why.
I'm over-existing in limbo
I'm over the myths and placebos
I don't really mind if I just fade away
I'm ready to live with my family.
I'm ready to die in obscurity
Cause I'm so tired that I got to go.
Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
You still don't think I'm gonna see this through."
"Tell me I'm a part of history.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go. "
When he finished, he gave a gracious nod to the audience, taking his guitar and walking off the stage and over towards the bar.
Blake had actually gone to Avarice II to meet her girl, but knowing that Gwen had to patrol and whatnot, she didn't expect to see her for a while, which was fine. She had good music to listen to and had frankly been in a good mood since ... well, since she'd basically told Gwen that she planned to marry her. She was currently sitting at the bar, dressed in tight jeans and a baby-doll Red Sox tee, her hair tousled a little messily. Hey, she was here to meet Gwen for a reason. STFU.
When she noticed Chris, she couldn't help it but say: "Dude, that was fuckin’ epic."
"Thanks, babe. I apprec..." he cut himself off in mid-sentence, as her scent caught his nostrils. He blinked, and stared for a moment. She.. was like him. Thank GOD. He was starting to wonder if there WERE any other wolves in the area.
She tilted her head to the side, catching *his* scent as well, but for once she knew better than to air all of her concerns in public. "Let's find a booth," she suggested.
"I think that sounds good..." Was she hitting on him? Well, WE know she wasn't, but poor dude... he kinda thought she WAS. Following the girl to a booth that was a little more secluded, he sat down, and let out a deeeeeep breath. "You have NO idea how glad I am to meet you, girl. I was starting to think there was nobody else like me around here." He offered his hand with a big grin. "Chris Stryker."
"Blake Martin-Bale," she replied, taking his hand with a surprising strength (or, not so surprising, given what she was). "You obviously picked the wrong place to come to. LA’s full of us. Literally. We breed like rabbits over there."
"...you're a Bale?" He asked, his voice sounding slightly torn between awe and relief. "I've... been hoping to meet at least one of you."
"It’s generally hard to get one of us alone. Like I said. Rabbits," she smirked, leaning her elbows on the table, she couldn't help it but look at him. Study him. "You're a long way from home."
"You could say that. My family is... er... WAS... from Russia, originally. Moscow." He sighed, shaking his head. "You've really got gorgeous eyes, you know that?"
Blake blinked like a deer-in-headlights then, before laughing. Loudly. "Dude, I'm gonna nip this in the bud right now. Leave your compliments at the door. I'm taken. You want a friend, though? I'm good for that."
He couldn't help it. That? Was hilarious. "Ok, ok... duly noted. Yer still hot though. And I don't hold anything back. So there." He wasn't ready to just... blurt out his torrid family history to a girl he barely knew, so he decided to try a different tactic: just befriending her, and hoping that in time? Maybe he'd be lucky enough to meet the rest of her family. "Sorry if I sounded like I was trying to pick you up."
"Yeah, like that was SO horrible," Blake replied, actually leaning over to punch him in the arm. Cute. "So, how're you liking it here, then? Weather treating you good?" She grinned.
"I'm liking it, yeah. Trying to get some gigs for my band, mostly. I've been more or less throwing every spare moment into it recently." Yeah, trying to repress memories of your family being slaughtered in front of you? Will tend to do that. "...I'm guessing you're a Sox fan?"
"What gave me away?" Blake laughed. "And if you're worried about gigs, I'm pretty sure I could hook you up with a few. The Bale name, after all, has its privileges."
"You'd certainly be a dear." He smirked, relaxing a bit. "And as for what gave it away? I must just be psychic. Or maybe it's that smell all Red Sox fans seem to get around playoff time: desperation." He teased, winking at her. "Sorry, couldn't resist."
"Ass," she replied with a laugh, actually hitting him again. Violent little thing, wasn't she? "Who do you follow then, Pushkin? Or are you still on the fence on that one?"
"What can I say? I'm more of a football guy, myself. Well, American Football. Not soccer." He clarified, as if anyone in America actually thought of soccer as football.
"Football, I can handle. Come on. Lay it on me. I promise I won't laugh," she replied, although the expression on her face suggested otherwise.
"Indianapolis Colt fan here. Peyton Manning can do no wrong, girl." He stated as if it were gospel truth. "Seriously. Best QB in the NFL, and if I won't accept arguments."
She actually nodded in agreement there, "No argument there, dude. Fuck, his career's just started, too." She considered placing bets on games, but the trouble there was... being from a different timeline, sometimes they just wouldn't pan out. Damn. Where was Doc Brown when you needed him?
"You are officially the coolest chick EVER." He laughed, Shaking his head in disbelief. "I only met ONE other hot chick that knew her shit about sports, but she ended up being a Yankees fan, so... I had to admit she knew NOTHING."
"Yes! Thank you! Fuck The Yankees!" Do you think she said that just a *little* too loudly then? Believe it or not, she actually BLUSHED. "Sorry. Epic hatred there. Like, so epic it spans GENERATIONS."
He just smirked, not entirely surprised there. Hey... what self-respecting Sox fan DIDN'T hate the Yanks? "So, what kind of tunes you listen to, girl?"
"Metal, mostly," she admitted. "Anything I can get violent or groin-y to, basically." Yep. Definitely related to Rachelle, huh? "What about you, boy-o?"
"Hard rock, metal.... stuff like that. Not real picky with what I listen to, just what I sing and play." Well, there was an interesting way to look at music...
"Gotta get your inspiration from somewhere, right?" Blake smirked. "My mom's taught me how to read music. Rachelle totes taught me how to play bass. Music's definitely a big part of my family." Although that wasn't to say that she didn't have other pursuits. She was actually a fine artist, as well.
"I don't really play guitar too much. Just enough to play a few songs and help write some stuff. Mostly I just sing." He said, giving a little bit of a shrug. "So... not that I mind one way or the other, but am I gonna have some angry boyfriend trying to kick my ass because we're hangin' out?"
"Girlfriend, actually," Blake shrugged. "But it shouldn't be a problem. I mean, she's possessive as hell, but she also knows that I don't have that many friends, so..."
"Gi..." he started, before things started to click more. "Well. As long as nobody's gonna get pissed. Sounds like BOTH of us could use more friends. Most of mine were in Moscow. I haven't really given myself much of a chance to make more since I got here."
"Looking like YOU do, you wouldn't think that would be a problem." Blake replied. What? She was taken, she wasn't blind!
"Heh. Yeah, well... that girlfriend of yours better be hotter than the fires of hell, or you're gonna have some explaining to do about why you settled." Awr. Sounds like he had an interesting way of telling people what he thought of them, hrm? "Anyway." Yeah, chaaaaange the subject. No sense ruining a potentially awesome friendship here over something that obviously isnt to be. "Maybe you and your girl would come watch us play sometime?"
"Yeah, absolutely, dude," she replied, trying her best to ignore the first part. There was no denying the blush, though. The only person that *really* complimented her was Gwen, so... "We'll see a time and place and you can see how epic my dancing skills are."
"Heh. Yeah well, I might be the third wheel there. Unless the girl I kinda got a thing for ends up diggin' on me." He smirked, brightening a little as he thought of his meeting with Bella.
"Is she hot?" Was the first thing that came out of Blake’s mouth. Lovely. "Seriously. Details. Now."
"She's like a goddamn supermodel. Seriously. And she's trying to get someone from Full Moon Records check out my band's demo." He smiled, chuckling. "She's SO completely outta my league, but gotta try, right?"
"Damn right you do. I'd totally kick you where it hurts if you didn't at least TRY. And I'm a tomboy, dude. I'll make sure you don't walk right for a WEEK." Oh dear god, make her stop.
"I... probably shouldn't find that kind of behavior as hot as I do, for real." He admitted with a loud laugh. "Seriously though, if this chick says she'll go out with me? Four of us are tearin' it UP sometime."
"God, don't say that. Gwen and I will put you to shame," Blake replied with a laugh, rolling her eyes. "But you're on."
"Bella seems like a classy girl. If this works out, pleeeeease don't embarrass me..." He practically begged, all while thinking Blake was possibly the funniest girl he'd met in ages.
"I'll TRY," Blake smirked. Silly little thing didn't even make the connection to the Bella of HER time, but then... they were never really close. "Just don't give me reason to." The cheeky little thing...
"You're gonna get me into assloads of trouble, girl. I can just FEEL it." He smirked, somehow feeling that it was VERY true.
"Probably," Blake smirked. "But one thing you'll know for certain is: You'll never be bored when I'M around."
"God... I have NO doubt there." He said with another chuckle, shaking his head. "It's weird... I dunno if its because of what we are, but I feel like I'm actually really bonding with someone here. Thank you."
"No, thank YOU. Apart from my girlfriend and the parental units, I don't really talk to many people," she admitted with a faint blush. She knew that she'd been into Gwen from the get-go, so it didn't leave much time to socialise. Maybe that should change, hm?
"Well, then look at it this way: we both got something we needed today. You're a cool chick, Blake." He nodded, smirking a little.
"I know. It's a curse," Blake replied, sighing dramatically before giving him a cheeky grin.