Post by TOBI BLAKE on May 24, 2010 19:33:31 GMT -5
Even though it was still early as far as bar and club standards went, the Leopard Lounge seemed to be packed. Or perhaps that was the sixth beer finally starting to sink in. Ordering up another one he eyed a girl sitting alone at the bar. She had dark brown hair, it looked hot on her. Instead of getting up and going to sweet talk her into coming home with him tonight, he chose to order another beer, the effort of getting up and walking over there was greatly outweighed by the fact that all he had to do was ask for another beer.
Slowly but surely, Tobi’s crazy habits were molding him into an a-classed alcoholic.
Not paying attention he went to get up and knocked someone’s drink over on their lap. Rolling his eyes, he silently prayed (though he figured since he drank in churches, God wouldn’t be so keen to take his request) that this someone was not a butch biker ready to beat the shit out of him for wasting a perfectly good drink. Fixing on his best apologetic smile he said, Ah fuck sorry about that…I’ll uh…buy you a new one or something…
Post by Anya Mason on May 24, 2010 20:01:18 GMT -5
Anya had been in the Luxury Leopard sipping her hard iced tea. She watched as a young man, similar to her age, ask for another beer, and get up, only to spill a tough looking man's drink all over his lap. Anya snickered to herself.
Someone can't hold their liquor, she thought smugly and shook her head as she took another sip of her iced tea. One thing about werewolves, they had a high tolerance to liquior or alchohol. No matter how much she drank, she would never actually get drunk. It was her metabolism. Werewolves have a higher metabolism and their body temperature is slightly higher. A normal human's temperature runs about 98.6 or so. Her temperature is about 104.5. Technically, that is a dangerous temp for the average human.
She watched the male with interest and amusement. Clearly, this was a human if he was stone drunk. Anya's wavy chocolate brown hair was fluffed around her shoulders, framing her eyes. Around the iris of her hazel eyes, almost the color of rich amber, were gold flecks, a symbol of her shift side. She had gold eye shadow on, pale blush and clear lipgloss. She was dressed in a silver metallic blouse and black pants. On her feet were black stiletto boots. Around her neck was a long golden chain. In her ears, matching gold hoops.
She watched him curiously and spoke to him.
"Well, someone's well cordinated," she said in a sweet tone that had a hint of sarcasm beneath it.
She flipped her hair over her shoulders and waited for him to respond.
Post by TOBI BLAKE on May 24, 2010 20:35:20 GMT -5
Though technically not possible for a shifter to be an alcoholic, years of abuse was slowly pushing Tobi to the top of the ‘alcoholic’ leader board in the shifter world. However, if just studying him by his actions, it would be easy to assume that the douche bag was indeed drunk, but that’s just how he was. He was dropped on his head as a kid.
No, really. He was.
It was rare to spot the guy without a beer in his hand, and most close acquaintances figured he was sick or crazy if he didn’t have any kind of alcohol around him at the time. It was just how he rolled. Growing up in an over-controlling family, the day he escaped from that shit hole he let loose, dropped all moral integrity and even started to drink in churches. He was practically begging for the Devil to come and snatch his soul from his body and drag him down to the underworld that is Hell.
A stray thought; was there even a Heaven or Hell for shifters?
All of that was not as important as the suddenly alcohol deprived hard-ball ready to rip his ears off and put them on his rear. Quickly conjuring up all the charm that being a Blake offered he smiled and said calmly, Hey man, how about you put down that fist. What ya’ drinkin’? A cosmopolitan? Royal on the rocks? Jaeger with a shot of coke? I’ll buy it. But please, I’ve got enough scars already; I don’t necessarily want to add to the collection. Besides, I’m a shitty fighter, most certainly not worth the fight; you’d win with one punch. Then you’d get no satisfaction from that fight. And by your fidgeting I’d assume you had some Jaeger with a shot of coke, you go ahead and order as many as you want and put it on Kristopher Green’s tab.
Pleased with his lie he walked off, feeling safe enough to turn his back on the man.
But he could tell that the man was a human, there was no animalistic instincts coming from him, so even though he told the guy he was a sissy when it came to fights, he was fairly certain that he could take the guy if he had to. Of course, that’d take him having to shift to win. It was not above Tobi’s moral integrity to cheat like that. He hated losing. Sitting back down he caught another girl with wavy dark brown hair. She seemed to have been watching him. That sorta pissed him off. But he forgot most of his anger when the Megan Fox look-a-like spoke.
Though, when her words sank in he didn’t like how she said it.
Sitting back and pulling a lip up in a silent snarl he spat back at her, Well, someone’s good at watching people. Do you do that often? Because I'm sure that regardless of who you are, you can still be given a restraining order...or something legally lame like that.
Post by Anya Mason on May 24, 2010 20:52:28 GMT -5
Anya's hazel eyes darkened briefly, and the gold flecks showed, but not enough to alarm the humans enjoying their booze. Anya smirked at him and curled up an upper lip before bursting into laughter.
"Oh boy have you got me pinned! But see," she leaned in a little. "I have to be good at watching people, being I am the leader of the werewolf mafia"
She looked at him smugly, and let that bit of wisdom sink into his already drunk brain. IF he can still think clearly and function without his booze to goad him on Anya thought sarcastically as she nonchalantly finished her hard iced tea and turned sideways in her seat. She draped an arm over the back of the red vinyl seat and regarded the boy before her.
"How long have you been away from mom boy? Clearly you don't know who I am," she said watching him as a few strands of chocolate brown bangs fell over her one eye, shielding it from view. It made her look seductive and sexy and dangerous at the same time. It was the way she liked it. She smirked at him.
Werewolves were very agile and could jump from a table to the bar counter in one bound. They were good with heights and speed and strength. She could smell that he was a shifter definitely, not a werewolf, but a wolf mainly. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she watched him. Those other species think they're so focused on having their own way. Losers. Us werewolves are stronger she thought gleefully and waited for him to respond.
Post by TOBI BLAKE on May 24, 2010 21:02:20 GMT -5
If she was looking for him to throw down his drink and bow down at her feet, kissing her toes and begging her for forgiveness, then she was clearly talking to the wrong person. Spending his whole life bending to someone else’s will had molded him into a borderline anarchist. Glowering at her he pushed his empty drink onto the bar, judging how far he could take his ‘I don’t give a shit’ meter before she ripped him to shreds. Sure, he didn’t care who the hell this chick was, but he fully acknowledged the fact that she could probably rip his head off if she really wanted to.
But he was so damn hot, who would want to?
Snapping his fingers and ordering another drink he raised the beverage to his lips and tested the liquid with his tongue, eyes trained on hers for the longest time before he spoke, Congrats, I suppose. You’re the leader of a group of snarky, stuck up morphers. You get thumbs when you shift. I bow down to your feet- oh wait. No I don’t. I’ve been away from home for ten years, and even if I did stay home my craptatsic parents would have never mentioned something as blasphemous as a ‘leader werewolf’ in the house. That stuff’s taboo back in the homeland. I mean, I take my hat off to you I suppose, for being all highly ranked and stuff, but to be honest, between you and me, I don’t care. I don’t give a crap about your political campaign that your stupid shifting race should dominate the shifting world or whatever it is that you think should happen. All I want to do is not listen to anyone, you included. So, let me stop you here before you get all ‘leader-y’ on me because I will walk out on you, I swear to God. I will do it, and I don’t care if you shift and tear my ass off and feed it to me.
As if to prove his point, he took a step away from her, and held his arms open wide as if to say ‘come get me god damn it’.
Post by Anya Mason on May 24, 2010 21:20:06 GMT -5
Anya burst into laughing as she stood up. The best way to handle a ball buster like this, was to break his ego. She slowly stood up, as though she had all the time in the world. She stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips as she glared at him. She mocked him in an Oklahoma twang.
"Why would little ol' me waste my breath on a mongrel like you?" she sneered at him and put her tone back to normal. "I really don't give a flying funct if you agree or disagree with us and our political beliefs. Besides, I wouldn't talk about our beliefs with you I'm not sure your puny brain could handle the task. My my you do have a set of balls on you dont you? However, having a pair doesn't make up for the lack of a big dick, which, I can clearly tell is seriously lacking." she said to him coldly.
Anya grabbed her purse and swung it over onto her shoulder. She brushed past him, tuning him out if he had any retorts to shoot back at her. One thing about Anya is that she was incredibly blunt and wasn't afraid to speak what she thinks or feels. Part of being the leader of the mafia was having a pair of brass gigundas herself, but she knew leaders when she smelled them. Regardless, alpha's and alphesses' deserved respect. Even though she hated the leaders of the fox shifters, the royal family for that end, she would respect them. She would certainly talk about them behind their backs, and attack them to get what she wanted, but there was a certain line which she never crossed. And tonight, that brute certainly crossed the line. Whether or not he was drunk or he meant it, she couldn't tell.
Post by TOBI BLAKE on May 24, 2010 21:45:29 GMT -5
He grinned as she stood, and yet she was still considerably shorter than he was. This chick had some balls, and he admired that. For the most part at least. But he felt sorry that she was certain that he should care about her opinion, no one seemed to understand that he didn’t really care about anyone’s opinion other than his own, he smirked at her words, the girl sure did know how to try to make a point when she wanted others to care. Sad thing was, he didn’t.
Watching as she stood up and started to leave, Well, bye then, Miss Mafia leader. I guess you’ve already wasted enough efforts on a ‘mongrel’ like me, right? You think I should care, but to be honest, I don’t. And for the record I am a-ok with my balls far out-sizing my dick, which they’re pretty proportional, but I’ll let you believe what you want. I think your attempt to make up for your lack of dick is amusing, armature at best. Don’t tell me that just because I’m a difficult person to talk to you’re giving up? I was really starting to enjoy picking at your buttons, but whatever suits you. I’ll be here until closing if you wanna come back for another round of proverbial battle.
He then turned around and ordered another drink, keeping his guard up in case she decided to tear his throat out for whatever reason.