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Post by JORDAN VIERRA on Aug 13, 2016 1:08:09 GMT
[attr="class","tpost"]  | He was on his third, or was it fourth beer? Jordan wasn't sure. His head swam in a pleasant buzz only alcohol could bring. If he had to be honest, he wasn't much of a drinker. While he could definitely handle the substance, he chose only to partake of it in social settings. As far as he was concerned, the taste was nasty and the burn that came with drinking the more potent liquors was unpleasant. His friends would often tease him that it would become more enjoyable later, but he was twenty-six and it still tasted the same as it did when his father offered him a sip when he was six. That's why it was better to drink with others. It was easier to ignore the taste and, vibing off of the crowd, world just seemed more fun after.
"I want to get into a bar fight," Jordan began randomly as he stared wistfully at nothing in particular. "Like on TV where people are smashing bottles over people's heads? It would be so cool. Like maybe try it after I retire so I won't get fired."
Were they talking about something before he brought it up? Ahhh, Jordan couldn't remember. The constant chatter in the bar was distracting at best. And once a certain song started flowing through the speakers, suddenly the show he watched the previous evening entered his mind and everything that happened before was gone. Glancing at his drinking buddy, his vision blurred and refocused soon after. Plopping his elbow onto the table, he lazily rested his chin upon his hand as he glanced at Flynn.
"Hey hey heyyy. Flynn? You were a copper before you became a resource teacher, right? Teach me how to fight? I wanna be like Mr. Miyagi."
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Post by FLYNN ROUX on Aug 21, 2016 7:47:38 GMT
精神病の愛 We're the heros of our time. But we're dancing with the demons in our minds. WORDS: 357 NOTES: short posts are the best though ;;V;; and i'm so sorry for the late reply!! | Flynn stared at the liquid, twirling the mug in circles mindlessly. The temptation to gulp down the beer made his skin crawl. However, he was already on his third. A voice in the back of his head warned him to stop before he became unmanageable again. Honestly, a lazy haze clouded his brain and he had long forgotten what Jordan and he were prattling about earlier. Flynn deemed it was something trivial and had dismissed the topic once and for all. Instead, he now debated whether to further relieve his thirst with the poison he clutched tightly in his hands.
The brunet was snapped out of his aimless futile thoughts as Jordan broke the silence. If one were to sit down between a teacher and a police officer, they might deem it to be a safe place. However, Flynn begs to differ. A bar fight would have been interesting. Ever since he arrived at Birchwood, nothing could really relieve his yearning for some action and thrill. "Give me a call when you decide to wreck havoc." Obviously, his compass of justice had gone haywire somewhere along the way. Arguably though, he's more talk than anything. Flynn would probably end up trying to stop it --- or at least that would be a good excuse.
Flynn once again turned to his cup, but this time, he decided to put it up against his lips as he shoved the burning liquid down his throat. Leaning away from the counter, he rubbed his neck steadily. Once again, he glanced at Jordan as the other spoke. Suddenly, he was almost overwhelmed by the rush of memories that flooded his head. His copper days were long gone, but there was a glimmer in his eyes as Jordan continued on. For Flynn, there was nothing more he missed than fighting. Among the excitement, his voice made a croaky "y-yes." He immediately cleared his throat, "yeah, of course! Mr. Miyagi, Jackie Chan...heck even fight like Bruce Lee if you want." Okay...maybe that was too much of a bluff. The police academy certainly didn't teach him how to fight like Bruce Lee, but one can dream.
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MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
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