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Post by wesley on Sept 28, 2011 12:22:50 GMT 10
 There was no use denying the fact that he was an alcoholic. In fact, Wesley fully accepted the fact. Unlike some that liked to deny that area of their life, Wesley was willing to embrace it. What was so wrong with it, anyway? Sure, alcohol did a number on your liver and if not properly handled, you can have quite the headache afterward… but aside from that? A lot of people seemed to view alcohol as if it was straight from hell; something that Wesley had to disagree with. Hell with them, instead—was use was beer and the like if it was all ‘downstairs’? But, at the same time, if Satan truly was the inventor of the wonderful beverage, he was willing to dance with the devil now and then. (Or, based on his consumption levels, dance a lot.) But, alcohol was meant to be enjoyed, and that’s what he did. There was a far different goal to his drinking than there was with some college frat boy that just drank to… impress friends and make a fool of himself. Wesley had no one to impress; he just liked the taste and he liked the feeling. It’d been a long time since he’d seen those younger days of binge drinking, and for that, at least, he was glad.
Rather, he was just fine in his successfully alcoholic state; which is exactly why he found himself, once again, at the Blackwater Banshee. One thing he’d started to catch one about, however, was varying the bars he attended and the days he attended them. At least that way, even if he was aware of his alcoholism, other people wouldn’t start to realize that he was in there every day or so… he didn’t want the whole town thinking him a boozer, afterall. As he walked in, though, he also acknowledged the fact that part of the experience simply came from the socialization. When he went out to drink, it wasn’t just for the alcohol—he could get that at home—it was because he was looking forward to conversation and interaction with others. It was the environment, and as he walked in the door he was distinctly aware of that. Considering the number of people in the place, Wesley was fairly confident that he could find at least one or two people to talk too. As he headed towards the bar, he glanced around. As he’d learned on a few other occasions, he had to pick his ‘victims’ wisely. Starting a conversation with a stranger can be risky, and if you find the wrong one it could either be cut short quickly or head south; and, at the moment, he wasn’t feeling up to a bar fight caused by stupidity.
Despite his previous thoughts about not being judged, he contemplated holding off on drinking and instead making a friend or two—not that it was easier sober, but it made getting home easier. Considering he didn’t need extra help getting himself lost, drunkenness didn’t lend a helping hand when it came to navigating the streets of Capeside. “Let’s start strong, with a… water.” He paused, forcing a bit of a smile. “Designated driver and all… for myself.” His voice faded slightly by the end, understanding the absurdity of what he had just said and not wanting to broadcast it too loudly. Clearing his throat, he shook his head a bit and pulled off the black hat that sat on his head.
“Actually, on second thought, might as well add a Corona in, too.” Good intentions, right? They all had their place somewhere. Sobriety just wasn’t for Wesley; everyone has to have their likes and dislikes. Just so happened that a perpetual, mild drunkenness was his thing. Finally, settling onto a stool, he once again scanned the group of people. Placing his hat on the counter, he side glanced to the gentleman next to him and figured it was as good a place to start as any. Leaning over just enough so that he could offer a hand, he smiled. “Wesley,” He paused a moment to see if the man would return the favor before he explained himself. “Always nicer to drink with a friend, you know? Figure that a first name is all you really need to be friends.”
Out-going was perhaps an understatement, but where was the fun in simply wallowing in your drink? He had plenty of time to do that when he was alone—right now, he was looking for a good time; he was looking for a distraction.
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Post by jacob on Sept 30, 2011 4:26:44 GMT 10
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | HOPE IT'S ALL RIGHT! Jake was THE designated driver. And yes, all capitals were necessary. He was never really one to get drunk, he didn't really enjoy it all that much for whatever reason, and so when people wanted to go and get wasted, Jake was the one they called, it seemed. And Jacob didn't really mind that, honestly. A lot of his buddies were really hilariously stupid when they got drunk, and he was the only one sober enough to get it on video. Now wasn't an exception. Except his buddies were all at different corners of the room, and Jake sat at the bar alone, staring down into his sad little glass of water.
His head raised and turned to the side as someone came in and ordered themselves also a glass of water in a rather familiar sounding accent, claiming he'd be a designated driver for himself. Jacob grinned at that, and then looked back down again as he took that back and ordered a Corona as well. Well, at least he'd tried. But the man didn't stop at that. He turned to Jacob and introduced himself, which was slightly surprising, but Jacob didn't hesitate to respond.
Jake grinned and turned to the side to shake this Wesley fellow's hand. His accent had sounded Texan, but maybe it was just wishful thinking since that was where Jake had grown up and he was maybe a tad bit homesick. After all, home was where the heart is, and though Capeside was wonderful, nothing had really happened to capture his heart quite yet. “Jake.” He nodded understandingly at his new acquaintance, or friend, he supposed's, offhanded comment. “I could see how that'd make a lot of sense, but I'm apparently the go-to designated driver, and ’seems tonight is no different.” he gestured to the water in front of him with a friendly smile. Jake had been in Capeside for a few years, since college, and he would like to think he knew most everyone who lived there, but this man's face was new to him, he did not recognize it.
But if Wesley was friendly, so was Jacob. Jake had always been kind and outgoing, maybe he had a little bit of an issue with keeping his temper and or keeping his mouth shut, but he was always friendly, as this man seemed to be already. Maybe he was from Texas, after all. They were mighty hospitable people, most of them anyway. “You new in town?” he asked, his eyebrows raised curiously even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.
It still sounded nicer to ask than to just assume. Jacob didn't want to sound pretentious or anything, after all, since that was one of the most unfitting words ever used to describe Jacob Colin Griffiths. Maybe a tad gawky and uncoordinated and awkwardly over-friendly at times, maybe even that he tried a little too hard often, but he was definitely never pretentious. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 2, 2011 23:06:18 GMT 10
Wesley had always been the out-going type. It was partially because of that reason that he got into bull riding. If he hadn’t been so out-going when it came to meeting people and other riders in the beginning of his ‘career’, it would’ve been a lot harder to continue going. He supposed that he had really always been that way. Leaving his parents in pursuit of making new friends was never a hard thing for him; he was the kindergartener that would forget to turn around and wave because he was already occupied by all the other people. Apparently, quite a bit of that had transferred into his life as he got older, as well. Even now, as he sat at the bar, he felt completely at ease with a perfect stranger. Why shouldn’t he? It wasn’t like there was anything to be afraid of. It wasn’t like some guy was going to try and jump in him the parking lot because he was just a little too out-going. Or, if that was the case, he was pretty confident he could handle himself.
“Nice to meet you.” Smiling to the other guy, he noted the glass of water as he mentioned being the designated driver. “Pretty sure none of my friends would call me as their designated driver. I think my blood permanently contains some whiskey at all times, now.” Well, so much for switching up his bars so people didn’t think he was a drunk. He’d just tell everyone himself. Ah, hell, not like he cared what everyone thought. Within a few weeks he’d be all healed up and ready for riding again. As soon as the damn stiffness in his chest eased from his ribs and the pain in his shoulder went away. Frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough, as far as he was concerned.
But now was no time to get pissy about it. Especially not after the man asked whether or not he was new to town. His smile widened involuntarily and he nodded slightly. “Yes, sir. Born and raised in the Lonestar state… mostly. Travel a lot with work, but I just came into town about a week ago.” He paused long enough to take a drink from his beer before turning back towards the guy, trying to find a comfortable way to both lean against the counter and not cause too much pressure on his left arm or too much bend to his torso. “And yourself? Going to assume you’re not new, since you asked me.”
The boy didn’t exactly strike him as the Capeside type. Unless, of course, his idea of who belonged in Capeside was completely wrong. But he had always picture more of the preppy kid to make their home in the seaside town. Seemed right, didn’t it? Or, maybe, like him, he’d come later in life and just decided not to leave. Maybe he had been in town less time than Wesley and was just curious about others. He really didn’t know, and guessing seemed like a waste of time. Why try to make things up when you can get the real story from the person sitting in front of you? And, thankfully, he seemed openly friendly, just like Wesley. That was one thing that he always enjoyed when striking up random conversations—it was just never good if you got the person that thought you were an asshole just for interrupting them from their drink.
But, no use crying over spilt milk. It was much better to focus at the good conversation on hand, rather than think about all the ones that didn’t go so well. As long as he walked out of there without any more bruises to add to his collection, he’d think it a good night anyway.
(Twas just fine. c: )
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Post by jacob on Oct 5, 2011 7:23:59 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | =D “You too.” Jake grinned as the other man continued to speak, and he chuckled. “Well, at least you're honest about it.” he shrugged, shaking his head and leaning back off the bar that he'd had his elbows on. Jacob would always appreciate an honest man. Liars tended to really rub him the wrong way. Even though Wesley was being honest about having alcohol running through his system twenty four seven. At least he was cheery about it, though, Jake didn't usually come across alcoholics who were actually proud of it. It was still pretty amusing, in his eyes.
Jacob's eyes and his smile both widened noticeably as Wesley announced that he was from Texas, proving that Jake wasn't just delusional, he did have a Texan accent just as he'd suspected. “No kidding! So’m I.” He said proudly, laughing a little. It wasn't often that he met a lot of Texans here, he knew of two families from the state but otherwise.. It was always nice to meet someone from his state. “’Came here for college, stayed for the job..” he explained, nodding a little. He couldn't deny that he missed his home, not without being a liar which he hated so much, he was a little jealous that Wesley had been there not too long ago it seemed.
Sure, Jake went back for Christmas and when he was lucky, Thanksgiving, sometimes his family even came out to Capeside to see him, but it wasn't the same. Jake was an extremely family oriented guy. It kind of killed him that he was missing his little sisters growing up. They really weren't all that much younger than him, of course, but it certainly seemed so at times, they just seemed so tiny and vulnerable. Then again, most people seemed pretty tiny compared to Jake's muscular 6'6" frame. He'd always been brought up to be protective of them, though, and it brought a little bit of a problem when they lived so far away.
“So, traveling with work, you said? What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?” Jake asked curiously, still smiling broadly. Work as a homicide detective never really made him leave Massachusetts, sometimes to other towns, because it was so unlikely for anything seriously “crazy” to happen here in Capeside- it was a considerably quiet place, after all. Most of his occupation consisted of paperwork and being borrowed by other towns, to be honest. The idea of traveling for work sounded sort of fun, though. At least for a while, anyway. Jake didn't know if he'd like it for long, he wasn't that much of a traveler- he got homesick too easily- but for a little while, it didn't sound like too bad of a life.
He was glad this guy was friendly enough to start a conversation though, Jake really loved socializing, honestly. The fact that he seemed nice enough and that he was from Texas was just like icing on the cake. Capeside folk were friendly, sure, but they still weren't quite what he was used to. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 6, 2011 22:07:27 GMT 10
Wesley couldn’t help but smile as the other guy mentioned his honesty. The way he saw it… why not? Alcoholism was all in the way you viewed it, right? Sure, not so much when you were behind the wheel and pulled over… then it was all up to the cop, but in a daily life, it’s all up to you. While Wesley wouldn’t exactly say he was addicted, he also wouldn’t say he could stop whenever he wanted, like most. He was that happy medium. The one that drank because he could, avoided the massive hangovers from binging, and simply enjoyed the entire experience of it all… unless, of course, something overly depressing had hit and he found himself drinking for an underlying reason. But that was different.
“Hell. The way I see it, why not be honest? People’ll assume it anyway. I like to come right out in the beginning and remove all doubt.” His smile never faltered as he ended with a swig from the beer bottle in his hand for emphasis, chuckling a bit as he replaced it on the counter. Honesty was definitely not his problem when it came to drinking. Not in the slightest. The smile he was wearing only widened as the other man mentioned he was also from Texas. Really, there was nothing Wesley found more thrilling when he was in another state than meeting someone from back home.
“Well, damn.” He smiled, adjusting his position slightly to ease a dull pain in his side before continuing. “Never thought I’d meet another Texan around here.” There was something about Texans. Maybe it was all a perception thing, but Wesley was pretty sure they were different. Really, what other state even has as nice of a name as that: Texan. You don’t see someone from Massachusetts acquainting themselves with their state like that… A Massachusettsan? It just didn’t flow off the tongue quite the same way. In fact, the idea that Jacob would’ve come and stayed seemed surprising to him. Sure, Wesley liked to travel… he hated letting grass grow under his boots. If he wasn’t moving he wouldn’t know what to do with himself… but Texas was always the final destination. He always went back whenever work wasn’t luring him away.
Until now, of course. This was the first time he could remember leaving Texas for something other than work. The first time he willingly moved away and didn’t have clear plans on when he’d return. There was no schedule, no planning… Just him and his problems waiting to be sorted out. If he didn’t get a move on with that problem solving stuff, he was going to be in Massachusetts for a long time… and he was not going to refer to himself as a Massachusettsan.
“Nah, I don’t mind at all.” Wesley shook his head a bit, clearing his thoughts and letting his smile return to his face like before. He always loved telling people what it was that he did. Mostly because there were a lot of reactions he’d gotten. Interest, fear, the look that he was a crazy man; he’d had them all. It’s not every day that you meet a man that rides pissed off bulls for a living. “I’m a pro rider in the PBR, actually.” He always liked to start with the acronym first, too. For anyone that was even aware of what PBR meant… aside from Pabst Blue Ribbon, he was already a fan. When you started to get out this far east, the chances of finding people who know what the hell a PBR competition is are slim. But seeing as this boy was from Texas, he assumed he’d have a better idea. As long as he didn’t start asking if there were motorcycles or cars involved, he’d be good. “What about yourself? What’s so enticing that you’d stay in a place like this…? No offense to Capeside, of course.”
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Post by jacob on Oct 8, 2011 8:42:08 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | =D “I'd say that'd be a pretty good way to look at it.” Jake responded, still grinning. Twenty four years old, and never had he met a man so happy to be a drunk. But at least he was happy. So long as he didn't kill anyone, Jacob was pretty much a-okay with him. But so far, Wesley didn't really come across as a killer. Plus, the name Wesley just didn't have a murderer sounding vibe to it. Maybe it was just him. But, Jake was just over thinking about his job again. Seemed to be it was happening a lot to him lately, to be honest.
Jake was still rather new to the job, and he was still convinced that most murderers either had slick, tough sounding names like Butch, or really pansy names like.. I don't know, Lou or something, and they were killing because they were trying to prove their manhood or something. But that was mostly because Jacob had a really active imagination.
Laughing softly, Jake nodded. “There are more of us here than you'd think. I know of two families, at least..” he shrugged. “I was just as surprised as you.” Ending with a long sip of his water, which he put back down and traced his finger around thoughtlessly, as there was a slight lull in the conversation where they both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, until Wesley replied to Jake's inquiry about his occupation.
“Really?” Jake asked, his eyes growing huge. He knew exactly what PBR was, and he was thrilled, he'd never actually met anyone who rode for the competition. This guy just got cooler and cooler by the second. “That is awesome. Never met a bull rider before.” His smile was stretching from ear to ear by now. Riding bulls always sounded extremely exciting to Jacob, but at the same time, extremely terrifying. He was never sure which won out in the end, respect for the bravery the riders had or incredulousness for their disregard for their own lives. Usually, he leaned towards total respect, though.
Then again, Jacob's job was hunting down murderers, there was probably a high rate of getting shot for that, so he couldn't really say much about regarding his own life, either. When he heard Wesley ask what he did for a living, he only grinned again and reached in his back pocket for his badge, which he flashed to his new companion. (He'd always loved doing that.) “Homicide detective.” he said, giving him time to examine it before he put it away. “Not that there's much homicide happening in Capeside, of course, but still. The badge is pretty cool.” He admitted with a chuckle.
“Still nothing like Texas, though.” He said almost wistfully, still smiling softly. “Everything is bigger and better in Texas, after all.” His grin renewed, as he glanced back at Wesley. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 9, 2011 12:59:03 GMT 10
Wesley didn’t know everything about this guy, but he was already sure he liked him. Not that he really needed much; hadn’t he started off by saying all you need is a name and you’re set? The way he saw it, him and Jacob would be good buds… or tonight, at least. He didn’t really expect to see him afterwards, unless by chance run-in, but he could hope right? Talking to him, at least, was nice. Compared to some other conversations and people he’d met in Capeside thus far, Jacob was definitely a step or two up. That was a good thing—Wesley needed someone like this tonight, considering the fact that any kind of confrontation would probably end in a lot of blood and more pain… for someone, at least. If nothing else, maybe his knuckles would get a little torn up. Emphasis on the ‘little’.
“Not the only ones, huh? Still find it hard to believe. Don’t know what could really possess a Texan to move out here and stay… not that it ain’t nice and all.” Seeing as how he liked his weather rather consistent, he wasn’t sure he could deal with the seaside thing. Plus, too many warnings and what not about hurricanes and tropical storms, or whatever it was that hit near these parts. They did gets storms like that around here, right? He didn’t really know—didn’t really care. Capeside wasn’t going to become his home, so he had no reason to look into it further. As Jacob responded to Wesley telling him he was a bull rider, he couldn’t help but grin. Not only did he know what the PBR was, he seemed genuinely surprised and excited that he had just heard what Wesley did. “Now you can cross that off your bucket list.” He paused long enough to take a drink from his bottle, leaning back slightly and finding it to be only slightly more comfortable than his last position. “Do you follow it at all? Bull riding, I mean.”
He highly doubted that Jacob followed the sport, but a fan was a fan nonetheless. There weren’t many people that could name the riders and their winning streaks like in other sports, so when you found someone that seemed excited just because its bull riding, you held onto that. Wasn’t everyday you met someone like that.
“Homicide?” He smiled a bit, looking up as he extended the badge and showed it to him in typical cop fashion. He wasn’t so sure that Capeside was a bit place for homicides, but it probably kept him busy, right? At least in Capeside you weren’t getting the bubbling, hot corpses you’d get in Texas after a day out in the sun. A plus, perhaps? Not like he could really speak for it either way. He was no cop; and he wasn’t going to pretend to be.
He was about to make a comment about it when Jacob brought up Texas again, and the well-used saying about everything being bigger. He really didn’t doubt it, even afte all his traveling. There certainly wasn’t anything bigger than what you got in Texas. “Damn straight. Though, can’t say a bigger job as a homicide detective is necessarily a good thing, but at least it keeps you in work, right?”
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Post by jacob on Oct 11, 2011 12:59:29 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | =D Jacob shrugged again. "I don't know, I didn't think to ask." He admitted with a grin. Jacob had already stated that he came for college and his job, but what he missed most in Texas was his family more than the state itself. Though, Texas was still his home, it always would be, deep down. Capeside was still really great. "I guess so." He chuckled. "But no, not particularly," he said apologetically, shaking his head. "Sorry. But I guarantee I will probably know more about who's who in the riding world than almost anyone else in Capeside." He finished with another laugh, tilting his head to the side.
This wasn't Jake being cocky, this was Jake being sure that pretty much not a lot of people would really care about professional bull riders in Capeside besides himself. The name Wesley did sound familiar to him along with the PBR, though, he couldn't quite put his finger on why.
"Well, my line of work is certainly less depressing with the least actual amount of work.. maybe that's another reason why I stayed in Capeside." He thought aloud, with another quiet chuckle. Though the real reason he stayed was because he thought it mattered just as much here when it happened than in any other place, just because it didn't happen quite so often didn't mean that when it did it deserved less manpower. Or.. peoplepower. He had to watch it now, his partner was a woman and last thing he wanted to do was give her another reason to hate him.
Besides the obvious fact that he was awkward and clumsy and made stupid jokes and was probably just really annoying overall, that is. Jacob did seem to find a lot of people who were annoyed with his clumsiness and need to be accepted. Sometimes he really might as well have been a seventeen year old again instead of the twenty four year old that he was supposed to be.
There was a slight lull in the conversation as Jacob tried to remember where he had heard the name Wesley associated with the PBR, before it hit him. "Stone!" He bolted upright, almost tipping over his glass in the process. "Wesley Stone?" Of course, there wasn't a huge chance that this was the Wesley Stone he remembered hearing about, but the slim chance that it was, was enough for Jake. He was honestly too good natured and outgoing for it to phase him even if it wasn't him. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 12, 2011 5:11:41 GMT 10
Wesley wasn’t sure why people loved the East coast so much. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant to look at, but living there? Not so much. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t a big fan of water, but he also thought that the lack of really hot weather and small towns was another turn off. The environment was just different that he was used too and a fan off. Smiling as he took hold of his bottle, he glanced towards his new found friend and shrugged a bit. “No worries. Never really expected to find an avid PBR fan—it’s enough that you actually know what it is.” He grinned, fully believing that. He really didn’t expect anyone to know what the hell he was talking about if he said he was injured in the PBR. And, once he did explain, he expected a lot of looks like he was crazy.
Then again, wasn’t he? It took a certain type of person to get on a bull time after time without so much as a second thought. Maybe he was crazy… hell, maybe that was why he drank so much. Considering this, he thought that it was all starting to make sense to him. See, it took another person to help you figure out your entire life and motivations. Maybe he could call home and tell his mom he was insane—thought, she probably already knew that.
Nodding a bit. “That makes sense.” At least there were some pros to staying in Capeside… if you were a homicide detective, at least. The small work load was likely easier on the emotional toll the job would take on you, though maybe not as good for when you were actually looking for something to do. Wesley couldn’t imagine having a job that would only occupy his skills sometimes. He needed to be constantly stimulated. If he wasn’t working, he was doing something else that kept him just as busy. Sitting still simply wasn’t his cup of tea. “Though, I can’t imagine just sitting around waiting for something to happen. I’d say I like to be proactive… but given your job, I think another word would work better.”
Turning back to his drink for a moment as there was a lull, he ran a hand lightly over his left shoulder, feeling the brace that was beneath his shirt. At the very least, the more he drank the less he noticed the actual physical pain. While he couldn’t say much about his emotional issues, he found that the aching subsided with a certain level of drunkenness. And, since he liked his alcohol, it wasn’t too hard to get to that stage. Although, two beers just wasn’t going to cut it if he really meant to take the edge off.
Jacob’s voice pulled him back a second later though, as he heard his name. He couldn’t help but grin, finding it quite amazing that this boy not only knew what the PBR was, hailed from Texas, and knew his name. “Hot damn… I’m famous.”
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Post by jacob on Oct 13, 2011 14:33:45 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | =D Jacob smiled and nodded as Wesley told him it was fine. He couldn't imagine many people in Massachusetts knowing what PBR even stood for, so it made sense how excited Wesley was about Jacob recognizing it. But Jacob was above all else a country boy, and the idea of bull riding was just as thrilling and terrifying as anything else. But Jacob would probably never actually do it. He'd probably fall off before he even got out of the gate anyway. Sure, he could see it now: "Homicide Detective Risks Life Daily: Gets Trampled by Bull in Pen". Seeing as he was one of the (if not the very one) most unlucky people he knew, he could certainly imagine it happening.
He really didn't get why people trusted him with a gun when he was so accident prone he was more likely to shoot himself than anyone else. But neither had happened yet, which Jake was quite thankful for. He wasn't looking forward to getting shot. Though he wouldn't deny, a gunshot wound would be pretty impressive looking. But that would probably be the only upside to getting shot, he guessed. He didn't know. He wasn't all too keen on finding out, though. Not really something on his bucket list.
Jake laughed a little as Wesley mentioned that he wouldn't enjoy sitting around waiting for something to happen. He knew how that felt. Of course, it was nice to have a lazy day every once in a while, but not a week in succession. Jake was still pretty young, he was active, he was athletic, he was certainly not meant to be just sitting around filling out paperwork all day. "Not gonna lie, paperwork really sucks though, which is what I usually get stuck with doing when there isn't a case." He made a face and shook his head, looking slightly like a kid who'd just sucked on a lemon.
Jacob's grin widened even more when Wesley confirmed that he was indeed the rider Jake had heard about, though he still couldn't quite put his finger on where. "Looks that way, don't it?" He said good-naturedly, crossing his arms over his chest and chuckling softly again. "Don't quite recall where I caught that name, but I never thought I'd have the need to remember. I guess it really is a small world after all." As he resisted the urge to start humming that stupid It's a Small World After All song from the Lion King. "You know, if someone I'd never seen before ever stopped me on the street and called me by name, I'd probably freak out." He said as an afterthought. "I guess some people just ain't made for the limelight." He grinned. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 15, 2011 16:15:03 GMT 10
Wesley wasn’t sure if he was just born without fear, or if it had been something he’d trained himself to ignore. Looking back over the majority of his choices, he realized that fear never seemed apparent in any of them. Unless he was just blind to it. Choosing to pursue a career in bull riding would likely be something that most would be hesitant about—not Wesley. It didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest each time he got bucked or fell down; it was just a challenge to see how fast he could dust himself off and try again. It wasn’t about the apprehension and fear about getting on the bull, it was about the adrenaline once he was mounted. It was dare that would hit him smack between the eyes, asking if he was man enough to do better next time. Maybe it wasn’t fear he was lacking, maybe it was simply common sense.
Whatever it was that had been left out of the gene pool when Wesley was conceived, be it the ability to be afraid or the capacity to use logic, he didn’t really care. He enjoyed his life without obsessing about all the little things that made it distinctly his. Aside from knowing that he was still alive and kicking for another day, it didn’t really seem all that important, anyway. Why the hell would he care to psychoanalyze his decisions if he had felt just fine with the ways they had turned out thus far? Sure, there were some things he’d change, but it wasn’t like he had a DeLorean sitting in his garage, waiting to zap him to the past. Or the future, depending on which film he was currently thinking about.
At the mention of paperwork, Wesley was pretty sure that an actual chill ran up and down his spine. If he ever consented to sitting behind a desk and filling out paperwork, he’d immediately be convinced that he was possessed by a demon. “I can’t even…” Wesley shook his head a bit, taking a drink from his beer and thinking about the fact that he’d just waste away to nothing at a job like that. Just can’t let grass grow, right?
Grinning, however, at the reiteration that he was now famous, Wesley couldn’t feel much more pleased about himself. It’s not that he was intentionally looking to steal the spotlight, but if the shoe fit… He wasn’t about to walk away. Shrugging a bit, he couldn’t think of many reasons why someone that didn’t actually follow the PBR would know his name, unless they heard talk about his injuries. “Probably for the same reason I’m in Capeside.” Reaching up to pull the collar of his shirt away from his neck a bit, he stretched it just enough to give a brief glimpse of the shoulder brace underneath. “Bull got the best of me… this time.” He felt the need to add the last comment, just in case one would think he was out for good.
Ha. Not like a few broken bones would keep him down. “See, here… difference is you didn’t stop me on the street. And I technically introduced myself first. So it’s like comparing apples to oranges.” Wesley smiled regardless, thinking that, the next time he saw this boy around, he’d have to get some random stranger off the street to walk up to him and insist that he knew who he was. Frankly, it sounds like a damn good idea to him… and, if nothing else, it’d be amusing to watch.
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Post by jacob on Oct 17, 2011 14:50:37 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | THIS SUCKEDDD I'M SORRY. Jake didn't know quite what it took to be a professional bull rider. He wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity, but this Wesley fellow sure didn't seem like an idiot to him. And Jacob did try to be nonjudgemental as much as he could. After all, people could ask the same thing about him. Was it stupidity or bravery that drove him to be a detective? He would like to think bravery, but he could be a pretty big idiot at times, so he wouldn't rule that out completely, either. He honestly didn't know. But it didn't really matter, either. As long as it made him happy, he guessed.
Jacob was a very strong believer in doing what made people happy. He honestly didn't see the point in doing something that made someone so miserable just because it made more money or whatever. Jacob loved to help people, and thus, becoming a detective, bringing justice to the world, seemed a natural enough fit.
Jacob couldn't help himself, letting out a roaring laugh at Wesley's reaction to his saying that paperwork was the majority of his job. To be honest, the paperwork really did suck. But Jake wasn't complaining.. well, not much, anyway. He couldn't help but complain a little, after all. He came from a long line of complainers. Kind of. "Yeah, it's pretty awful." He nodded as he calmed himself from his laughter. He probably shouldn't be laughing so hard at this, but his expression was absolutely priceless and exactly the reaction Jacob had the first time he had paperwork.
Jacob's eyebrows raised as Wesley showed him his brace. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Yowch." he stated simply with a grimace. That certainly looked painful enough, and he'd only seen a glimpse. Jake didn't really do all too well with pain. Not the kind that lasted, anyway. Probably not really a weakness a cop should have, though, it hadn't put him out of action quite yet.
"Yeah, okay. I guess that makes sense. But it'd still be extremely weird." Jake grinned. He had so far managed to keep out of the cameras, someone else went and told everyone about the missing people or who they were looking for on the news, Jacob was a little afraid of what he would say. He could barely speak in person without screwing something up, much less in front of a camera. He might even forget what he was saying and start laughing, and that really didn't sound like it would be a good thing with what he'd be saying, describing a missing murderer. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 19, 2011 21:54:47 GMT 10
As Wesley settled into his chair a bit more and focused on the conversation, he found that it really did help to distract him. Good conversation had been somewhat hard to find as of late. Sure, there were a few interactions here and there—but most of them wouldn’t be what he’d call a good conversation. They were in a whole other ball park. The longer he sat on the stool next to Jacob, the more he realized that he missed this. Missed just being able to talk to someone, without worrying about anything else. It wasn’t that his brother’s death didn’t get to him too, but the entire atmosphere at home was stifling. Like, no matter what you did, everything was overshadowed by the fact that there was one person missing. Everyone needed to mourn, right? Well, Wesley was convinced that they could keep their damn mourning to themselves and let him move on.
It’s what he always did, right? Just moved on. When a place became boring or something else stole his heart away, he’d follow. A few times, he ran towards something… most of the time, it seemed like he was running away. But that didn’t mean he needed any help—not from his parents, not from his aunt… no, he was perfectly fine, so they could all stop talking to him and calling him to see if he was okay.
The fact that Jacob responded so easily and quickly to all of his statements just made him that much more pleased with how the conversation was going. It was more like he was just relaxing with an old friend than trying to make a new one. “I don’t think I’ve done a lick of paperwork in my life… except maybe for an ER visit or two—but that doesn’t count.” Those were more like forms, anyway, right? Nothing like trying to file away information or whatever the hell it was that detectives put in their paperwork. Honestly, why was it important? You caught the guy, he’s in jail, be done with it. Unless, of course, you didn’t check the guy… then, shit guys, get better at your job.
It was a good thing that Wesley wasn’t a cop.
Wesley grinned a bit when Jacob replied to seeing the shoulder brace. Really, that was the tamest part of his injury. Sure, the actual arm was what was taking the longest to heal, but it was his torso that really showed off the fact that he got hurt. But, he wasn’t about to start lifting his shirt in public. He may have liked to show off his battle scars, but not like that. Laughing a bit, he took a drink from his beer before replying. “You should see all the bruises on my ribs.” Wesley had started to take note of the fact that, as his bruises healed, he was getting just about every colour of the rainbow out of them. Right now, he was moving into the wonderful, sickly yellow phase—which also meant they were nearly healed, and thank the lord for that.
“Just you wait until I start getting random people to talk to you on the street,” He paused, waiting a moment before adding, “I’m gonna start my very own fake fanclub that’ll follow you around.” Sure, that sounded a bit strange, but Wesley found the idea to be hilarious considering how uncomfortable Jacob seemed with the idea of random people talking to him on the street.
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Post by jacob on Oct 23, 2011 23:44:43 GMT 10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300] RAVEN AS WESLEY | (: Jake was a very good natured person. As long as you didn't give him a good reason to hate you, he gave you the benefit of the doubt. He did have a bit of an issue with rage, but he hadn't lost it in quite a while now, which was great. And, especially around women, he came across as awkward and gangly because he really sucked at expressing himself and he never thought anything through when he was talking. But his conversation with Wesley so far hadn't come across an awkward patch, and that was a blessing in itself.
Jacob couldn't count the times he said something and it came out entirely wrong and then the other person just kind of stood there staring at him for a while until one or the other said something to change the subject or just excused themselves and walked away or something. Half the time Jacob didn't even know what he'd said until he thought about it.
Jacob chuckled a little as Wesley told him he'd never done paperwork before. Wouldn't Jake like to be in those boots. No paperwork? Yes, please. Sounded like a good enough deal to him. Except for the bit about the ER visits, those he could do without, but maybe that was just him. "Lucky man," he said with a lighthearted grin, and his eyebrows raised as Wesley informed him that his ribs were even worse than his shoulder.
Jake let out a little shudder at the thought. Pain.. never something he dealt well with. The fact that Wesley was sitting right beside him with bruised ribs and a shoulder brace (which even sounded extremely limiting) was beyond him how or why he did it. If Jacob had an injury like that, he'd be in bed whining until someone brought him the remote and something to eat. But Jacob liked his lazy days. Wesley didn't come across to him as a lazy man.
Jacob laughed at the very idea of someone lining people up to recognize him and forming a little fake fan club. Of course, Jake had no problem with strangers, or he wouldn't be talking with Wesley right now: but if they knew who be was and he'd never seen them before, he could see how it would be funny to provoke that response. "Well, I'm on to you now," He told Wesley with a grin. "I mean, I'll probably forget by tomorrow morning, but, still." Which was also true.
As soon as he was recognized by this unknown subject he'd probably forget all about this conversation and get very suspicious. Yes, he could most certainly see how that would be amusing. Sounded like something he might do, actually. |
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Post by wesley on Oct 26, 2011 0:53:44 GMT 10
Wesley couldn’t necessarily claim that he was the best at conversation. At least, not when women were involved. But, when it came to striking up conversations in a bar with someone, he would also admit that he was pretty good at it. Keeping things lighthearted and simple were easy things for him to do. Who really liked to get in-depth with a stranger, anyway? Even if he did start of the entire conversation by saying that he was now friends with Jacob. But, then again, in-depth were never Wesley’s strong point, even with his friends.
No, he thought conversation just like this was perfect for him. He could talk about work, ask the man about his job, and make jokes without feeling like he had to start sharing his innermost thoughts. Plus, he was pretty sure that Jacob didn’t care anyway. Not that Jacob didn’t seem like a nice guy—thus far, Wesley had no reason to think ill of the man. But being nice and wanting a random stranger to start a Dr. Phil episode in a bar were very different.
Grinning, Wesley nodded a bit. “I like to think so. I think I’d even take a few broken ribs over paperwork… any day.” Maybe a bit of exaggeration, but at the moment Wesley was thinking that was more towards the truth than not. It wasn’t that Wesley was necessarily looking to land himself in the hospital or something, but he also wasn’t looking for a 9-5 office job where he’d spend all his time behind a desk with files to fill out. Though, if he ever did happen to find himself in that spot, he was confident that he’d be fired within the first week, if not the first day. Most employers probably didn’t want their workers swearing at their computers or bringing whiskey with their lunch for the day. Just a guess, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t like that. There was a reason he stayed in the blue collar world instead of the white collar world.
“I’ll make sure they sneak up on you when you least expect it,” Wesley replied once Jacob let him know that now he’d know what was going on. Wesley was already starting to think of all the awkward ways or places he could have random strangers start to talk to Jacob. Frankly, he thought it was hilarious and he hadn’t even done it yet. He didn’t really have plans to carry it out, but the idea was enough to make him chuckle. Side-glancing at Jacob as he took another drink of his beer, he set down the bottle and pushed the now empty thing away. “And, see, I even know where you work now. Shouldn’t be that hard to send the fan club after you.”
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