CHAPTER TWO
There's a certain kind of rush Alex gets from a busy night at work. She needs the hustle, the loud music and laughter and fast paced energy. She can't sleep if she isn't dead on her feet. And for that reason - and that reason alone - she enjoys go-go night. The parts she does not enjoy are the following:
1. The dress code. PVC isn't particularly breathable, and by the time she's done her thighs are the fuckin' Amazon and she's begging for a shower, but the best she can do is pat herself down a bit, tie her jacket around her waist and curse herself for not bringing a change of clothes.
2. The dancers. Well, maybe not the dancers themselves, they tend to be pretty cool people when she gets a chance to talk with them, but the attention paid to them can be off-putting. And the amount of times she has to tell someone they can't buy a drink for a dancer is just too much.
3. The customers. Christ, if she hears one more comment asking to see her moves, she's gonna punch someone. Her go-to, when asked, is to do a few tricks with the bottles, light a few things on fire, shift their attention. Getting people's attention is easy. Losing it is the hard part.
4am has come and passed and she's done with her shift, wads up her tips and hands a chunk to Mick for covering her disappearance earlier, and tucks the rest into the back pocket of her skirt (the one good thing about that skirt; it has pockets). Her place is about a mile and a half from the club, but that's not too bad if the weather is right. And it's a pain to try to ride her bike to work in a skirt. And public transportation means a wait at the bus stop, 'cause she almost never catches the first bus. Might as well walk, really.
A few blocks down from the club, she pulls off her hair tie and flips her head for a second to loosen up the pressure on her head. Oh god— she snorts at the sheer amount of glitter falling like snow onto the ground. Way too early for snow. Though, admittedly, she's pretty excited 'cause the Island is still up-and-coming but the owners apparently had a place in SoCal that did snowglobe parties, and Alex is intrigued. There's been talk of Christmas in July. That could be fun.
She could easily just run a hand through her hair to loosen the stuff, but instead shakes her head forcefully, grinning when it makes her go a bit dizzy, and pausing to lean against a wall.
It takes her a moment to realize that it's the same wall she'd been leaning on earlier. The wall outside the Kanaloa. She checks her phone. 4:24. The lights are still on inside. She pulls on the door, and it's not locked. Wow. Really an up-all-night, drink-your-sorrows-away kinda place, huh?
Her hands are tucked under her tied jacket as she walks in, slow steps, glancing around to see what's still happening. There's a door past the bathrooms that looks like it opens onto an alley, and that's open. Some noise from a back room. Otherwise, seems empty. Alex hesitates for a second. Maybe they're closed and just haven't locked the front door yet? She didn't check for hours posted, and they don't have your standard neon — at least, not an Open sign, though there are some lit signs for beer brands both old and new. Yeah, shit, she doesn't need to be in the way here, not after a long night. If they're off the clock, they're off the clock. She turns to go.
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Hauling crates is never a fun job. Absolutely, positively, never a fun job. But Daniel did his share of it, and so Jonas has to do his own. Of course Reggie hadn't shown up to close, which means Jonas picked up the slack, but that also means he got his tips. So not all that bad. Jonas is dragging about two boxes of stock from the back to put behind the counter when he notices the manic pixie dream girl standing in the doorway again. It's not particularly an interaction he wants to have. Especially not after working all night. Sure, the shift was slow and he was hanging around with patrons for most of it, but it just… Is it really worth it?
…Yeah. Yeah, okay, sure, it's worth it. After a quick trip to the back for his boss's approval to open up the bar one last time before they actually close, Jonas wipes down the counter, and lets out a sharp whistle. It's not like he's calling a dog, or catcalling her - it's more like a military warning. Even if he's never been in the military and learned it from some vets that decided to come in and have a small party in one of the booths. They'd been pretty chill dudes, for ex-marines.
Already, he's mixing her a drink. One that reminds him of her hair - that caribbean blue. The Adios Motherfucker. "Yo. If you're here for something, go ahead and sit down." There's a pregnant pause. Jonas is going to regret this choice. "This one's on me."
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Alex is surprised enough at the noise behind her that she doesn't even try to hide it, just turns with wide eyes until she recognizes Hot Jonas from earlier.
Oh. Hello, Hot Jonas.
And with that memory, comes the memory of being a bit… well, a bit of a dick, to be frank. She winces a little, but his offer of a free drink immediately makes her perk up. Not that she needs a drink. Especially an AMF, which - combined with the last two and a half hours tending bar, that last call tequila shot, and her 'thanks for covering, Mick, how about another' second tequila shot - will probably be just enough to have her happily buzzed on the way home after. Or, with the amount he's overpouring on the booze, maybe stumbling. She's not mad about it.
Still, she's tired enough after her shift that she doesn't have the usual bounce in her step as she heads to the bar.
"I, uh… I should apologize. For earlier." She's got a sheepish kinda crooked smile on, leaning on her elbows and rubbing the back of her neck, pulling a face. "The hipster guy is like my best friend from way back, we haven't seen each other in a while…" She rolls her eyes. "It's like going home after living alone, y'know? You revert to your old ways." Even if her old ways were… kinda still her current ways. Sometimes. "Anyway. Point is: sorry."
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She's apologizing. That's… For some reason, that strikes him as more than a bit odd. She hadn't seemed the type to apologize for anything. More of a devil-may-care chaotic neutral type. Then again, he'd been that way in high school, so. North Valley isn't exactly a place that makes the best people. He should know. He's one of them. Jonas just offers a shrug, and those dark eyes of his are a bit brighter as she sits down.
"No harm, no foul. Not like I was breaking up a catfight in the middle of the dance floor or something." He finishes off the mixed drink, and slides it over the counter to her, leaning back against the wall again.
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"Ugh, I'll drink to that," she raises her eyebrows along with the glass before taking a long pull. Probably more than is ladylike.
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"Didn't peg you as the type to come back to a place like this, though, what with the uh-" Jonas gestures to her hair, head tipping a bit to the side, "-glitter and all."
Was she coming from the club? It's that new place that set up a few streets down however many months back - the Island? Something like that. Not as if it's any of his business, but it intrigues him a bit.
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She pops the garnish into her mouth, even though she knows it won't be anything special. Sue her, she likes maraschino cherries, so what. She sucks on it for a second, then pops it out again, grinning. "Yes, well; the things we do for cash." It's practically an inside joke. He knows how it is. Probably. Or maybe not, she's worked a few different bars since she started back in college; she's seen some interesting events in her time. Maybe he hasn't. For all she knows, he's the owner's kid, just getting his feet as a bartender. Though she doubts it. He seems to know his way around enough, have some good rapport with regulars. Maybe.
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Daniel shouts from the back, "Jonas! Got another for you!"
"Ah, shit, just a minute." He darts into the back again, leaving the mystery girl alone with her drink so that he can grab another crate full of bottles.
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She doesn't even bother raising the glass this time, just lowering her mouth to the straw, twirling the cherry between her fingers, lifting her hand just barely off the bar in a salute as he goes.
While he's gone, she spins in her seat, taking in the rest of the place. The pool tables are old, but look like a good time. She's not too bad at it. Hasn't gotten practice recently, but there was a setup upstairs at the bar across the street from her college campus and she had a lot of practice there. Even learned a few trick shots for the sake of winning bar bets. Alex is excellent at bar bets. Darts is an old friend too, and one she's still good at thanks to the board propped up in the back room at the Island. It's a way to decide who does what. She's got good enough aim to have her pick of the closing duties, when they're up for debate.
Another long pull of her drink - and she shouldn't like it as much as she does, it's just sugar and booze, but it was her go-to (along with your standard Long Island Iced Tea) for getting drunk with the fewest number of free drinks. The AMF has the added bonus of matching her hair. Which, to be quite honest, is probably why people were happy to buy it for her. Or, more specifically, when asked 'I dunno, what drink says me?', a potential suitor could feel charming and she could get drunk off her ass. Win-win.
Absently, Alex chews at the cherry. Disgusting. It's perfect. All flavored syrup and squeaky fruit. She pops the stem in after, wondering if she can still manage a knot. One of those skills you pick up for whatever reason. Probably to impress people. She has a lot of skills like that. Useless but impressive.
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Jonas returns with crate in hand and chewing on the butt of another cigarette. He isn't going to light it, because that's illegal and he isn't sure his boss would let that slide, but the sensation is enough for now. Maybe he should go to the warehouse again later. Still have an opening around noon. Then again, they always seem to have openings for him. Probably because he's such a regular. Jonas settles the crate onto the counter away from the mystery woman - still drinking - and starts pulling bottles out to replace empty ones. Making himself a drink sounds pretty good right about now.
The rum and coke hadn't done him much good for the rest of the night. Of course it had made him a little more loose, but he can hold his liquor, which means one drink wasn't exactly a reason to start tripping over himself. The fact that people had been either flirting or fighting all night was a completely different reason entirely. Once he's finished and settled the box back at his feet, he starts stacking empty bottles into it, popping back up and down in her view.
It's a nice view, admittedly. Cigarette half hanging out of his mouth, muttering number crunches under his breath; with the added observation that he's good with his hands. Maybe an odd one, but it's easy to tell. From doing tricks with his lighter to doing tricks with a shaker, Jonas has learned a few things in his time doing work like this. Making ends meet was the original goal, but now it's become more of a full-time thing, because Daniel is pretty cool and Jonas needs the cash. That, and it's uneventful. No need to get reactionary when there's nothing to react to.
"Okay. That's that done. Dan, you got any more?"
"Nope! You're free as a bird."
"Perfect."
.
Alex tried to be polite and respectful. She did.
But then there's the tequila really kicking in - and the gin, the rum, the vodka, the curaçao - and she finds herself staring even when she thought she wouldn't. Ren was absolutely correct. He is precisely her type. Or the type she wants, anyway, even if it's not always who she ends up with. Too tall, firm, weirdly stoic, some kind of Rebel Without a Cause vibes. Dark hair. Obviously way more ripped than he lets on. She can see those arms; she can tell they're all corded muscle. Goddamn.
She's got her legs crossed, sipping at her drink and absently running her (yes, tied, thank you) cherry stem over her lips as she stares. Too soon she's sucking on an empty straw, the noise too loud.
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Jonas raises an eyebrow at the sound. Okay, a little weird - and the fact that she's staring at him makes it even more weird, because that's really really attentive. She probably shouldn't be that attentive. He doesn't even know her name. Absentmindedly, he smirks. "Huh. You sure were thirsty, then."
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Her eyebrows raise, a coy smile steadily growing on her lips. "Mmmhm." Still is. Very.
Alex hops to her feet, pulls the fresh wad of cash from her back pocket. It hasn't been sorted into denominations, so she takes a second to count out a hefty handful of ones and fives. "I'm making you a drink." It's a proclamation, not a suggestion, and she promptly marches down to the edge of the bar to push in past the little swing door. "You made me one, now I'll make you one. Turnabout's fair play." Is that how that saying goes? Regardless, it's how she's said it. The tequila is getting to her a bit, maybe, 'cause she's feeling a little hot under the collar - or, well, no collar, but she's definitely a little warm, but that's one of the benefits of showing skin: more surface area to cool from. "You look like someone who'd enjoy a Manhattan. Sound right?"
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"Uh-" A Manhattan would be nice, he isn't going to kid himself, but at the same time… "You're not the one mixing drinks here. Employees only."
Jonas stops her even if she's already technically behind the bar, blocking her off from the drinks themselves as he takes a hold of her shoulders. It isn't a hard grip, he's not trying to hurt her, just keep her in place. Because she's probably starting to feel the effects of that AMF, which means she might not make the best choices. And besides: does she even know how to work a bar? Sure, people might mix drinks at home, but this is an entirely different setup.
So he keeps her from going any further, and quietly evaluates her. Smaller than he is, probably younger, and… combat boots. Okay, that's a bit odd. And wearing a go-go skirt. Not to mention the fact she's covered in glitter, which is probably on him now, too, but he doesn't really care. He can just wash it off once he gets home.
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"Aww, c'mon," her grin is a touch goofy, though there's plenty of mischief in it before she bats her eyelashes up at him, leaning into his grasp. "Promise I won't break anything. Track my every move; no funny business." She does a quick little cross my heart motion. "I'll just whip up a nice Manhattan - I'm assuming you're a rye kinda man, though I guess I could go for bourbon…" Her eyes flick to the side for a second as she thinks, then snap back to him. "It's only three ingredients, Jojo. Now how can I mess that up? You can even be my supervisor. Supervisor Jonas. A nice ring to it, huh?"
Perhaps - perhaps - she may be being a teensy bit… cheeky. Especially with that little Jojo in there. And her grin seems to recognize that she is very aware she's done it, and very aware he doesn't like her doing it. But Cheeky is Alex's middle name. (Along with a variety of other adjectives and nouns she's assigned herself over the years. Danger is in there, as well as Provocative, as well as Hilarious. She's picked out several and can't for the life of her remember all of them.)
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Well, he could keep arguing with her. Jonas doesn't even know if she's qualified, much less sober enough to actually make a drink, and his boss is basically right there in the back room. Then again, the bar technically isn't open… Yeah. Second choice he's about to regret tonight.
She says more than few things that rub him the wrong way. Jojo. Supervisor Jonas, which - what the hell, where did that even come from - but she seems to know her way around, and he's tired, and he's sure there have to be a few more reasons hidden up in his head as to why he lets her go and leans back against the back wall; crossing one ankle over another.
"Alright. Fine. One Manhattan, and then you're back on the other side of the bar."
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"Will do." Alex takes her sweet time familiarizing herself with their stock, checking out what she has to work with. "So." Her fingers run over a couple bottles, before turning to place a coupe in the ice to chill - they haven't burned the well yet, so she doesn't feel particularly guilty. Setting up a glass for mixing - not bothering with any fancy bottle tricks, she's not on the clock after all - she goes for the bitters first, directing her question to Jonas with a bit of a smirk. "You want it sweet or hard, Jojo?" Bourbon or rye. The classic is rye, but she's gone both ways. She knows what's objectively good, but taste varies.
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Did he plan on doing this tonight? No. Is he still doing it? Admittedly, yes. "Hard." He's going to need it with her around.
Jonas is fiddling with his cigarette pack again. He's not about to smoke another one, because that would be his third tonight and that isn't a good thing, but it still keeps his hands busy for lack of having something to do with them. Technically, he should be clearing off her glass and wiping down the bar again. But if she's making another drink, why not just do it after he's finished? It isn't like Daniel will care, so long as it gets done.
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Alex plucks up the other two bottles she needs, smiling half to herself. "My kind of man." Bitters, rye whiskey, sweet vermouth. Three ingredients. She gives him the good stuff (as good as they've got, anyway, they're not quite as fancy as the Island, but that's to be expected), 'cause— well, after dealing with her, he probably deserves it. It's not like she makes things easy.
She doesn't go for speed, and might even be overpouring a bit, but gives it an extra long stir with the ice just in case. Taking a sip off the spoon once it's stirred, she nods her approval. Strong, not too sweet, but balanced. She sneaks in a tiny twirl of the coupe's stem around her finger before setting it on the bar and pouring his drink. Skewering a couple cherries on a toothpick - 'cause she's not about to put inarguably dirty hands into the garnishes, she's not a cretin - she slides one into the cocktail and the other into her mouth as she hands it over, glancing up at him and daring him to say it's bad.
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Well at least she knows what she's doing. Kind of hard to mess up a 2-1-2 mix, but he's seen people do it before. Jonas takes the glass and holds it up to her in thanks before taking a sip. Not terrible. Actually - okay no, he can give her more than that. It's good. Though he just hums his approval, only half paying attention while glancing toward the back room one last time. If Daniel comes out, he can say he made the drink (why is he taking the fall for something she did?) and he'd invited her behind the bar (seriously, why?).
"Not half bad. You mix drinks at home or something?" Or she's picked it up along the way.
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Alex huffs out a laugh, turning to clean up after herself. "Or something." It is somehow incredibly funny to her that he hasn't pegged her for another in the business. Then again, her little stunt earlier in the night didn't exactly follow proper etiquette for bars, even though she's worked behind several.
The AMF is definitely starting to kick in. Alex is a fan of tequila. Her eyes flick to the back wall, then to the well, and before she can tell herself not to she's popped the house bottle up into her hand, swiped a couple glasses, turned her back to him in a half-assed attempt to stop him from stopping her, and is pouring two shots. It's her closing tradition. Not usually for two bars in one night, but whatever. The bottle is back in place in a few seconds, and she holds out the second shot. "Last call, Jojo?"
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One eyebrow raises. That had seemed too coincidental, the fact that it looks like she was coming from a club… Yeah. She works for the Island, most definitely. But then again, she'd been a patron tonight, so he isn't about to turn her away just for working in a different bar. Not like he really cares about the whole rivalry thing— that's mostly Daniel's whole spiel.
When she holds out the shot to him, Jonas shakes his head a bit, but takes it from her anyways. "Guess this is a thing for you closing, huh? Even if I still have a drink in my other hand." He holds out the Manhattan, and then taps the bottom of the shot glass onto the counter before tipping it back to drink. Something his father had gotten him into the habit of doing, mostly because of his teenage years and the subsequent drinking competitions afterward.
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Alex takes the shot with a straight face, staring straight into his eyes like some kind of test. She cocks her head with a grin. "Well, thank you for indulging me." She can be polite. Kinda. Sometimes.
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Tequila after whiskey isn't the best combo, but once he's finished the shot, Jonas picks himself up off of the back wall, and goes back to wiping it down. He still has the Manhattan in his hand, only half finished.
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He's back to closing duties, and for a second Alex hesitates. "You want a hand?" It's not like she hasn't done this before. Maybe it's a weird offer, but… "I mean, I kinda feel like I owe you." Plus, she's got a few minutes before that shot hits. A few minutes of useful. She's good at holding her liquor (lots of practice), and quite good at hiding her buzz, but at some point she'll start showing it, and it'll probably be soon.
She should probably feel guilty for the next thought going through her head. Instead, she's just internally resigned because this is College Alex all over again:
He looks like a good guy. A hot guy. A guy who's pretty clean cut, who keeps his mise neat, who doesn't suffer fools making drama on his shift. A guy who'd probably look out for a girl who's a little too tipsy to go home alone.
Unfortunately, such guys also have too much integrity to then take said tipsy girl's invite up to her apartment.
At that unfortunate consideration she sighs slightly. Shame.
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"You know, if you feel like you owe me, I'd take it in cash." Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her, but he's smiling nonetheless, taking another sip of his original drink before speaking again. "Nah. Monetary compensation isn't needed. If you know what you're doing, you can go ahead and help me close. Not like I'm gonna refuse the help."
After he's wiped down the bar, checked the stock, and made sure all the glasses are properly cleaned, he finally downs the rest of the Manhattan with just a bit of a twitch afterward. That was most definitely not mixed to drink fast. Oh well, he has to get out at some point. Jonas pops the cherry into his mouth, still chewing on the stem as he steps out from behind the bar to go and pick the chairs up and put them back up onto the tables.
In the middle of checking over the cues and the pool tables that she's able to spot it. An all black, three-pointed little crown inked onto the nape of his neck. It's something he's almost forgotten about, a remnant of another place he used to work for: King's Row. It hadn't shut down, but he'd moved out of the area, and so he'd had to find work elsewhere. All of the long-term employees had the logo tattooed somewhere on their body.
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She's been helping out pretty reliably, but got distracted by the jukebox. She's fighting her better nature to not put on something to dance to when she glances over to Jonas and— "Oh my god." Alex is probably overly giddy. Luckily, she's got three shots of tequila and an AMF to blame when she surges over to his side, grabbing the back collar of his shirt to pull it down. "And here I thought you were some straight-laced good boy." She very nearly snorts. "What's this, a college dare?"
Alex has some ink herself, though only the dates on her wrist are visible at the moment.
4.18.92
6.21.10
She's probably too close for comfort, her fingers tracing over the crown. Not the cleanest work, looks like standard flash. But great placement.
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"Jesus-!" Jonas nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin when her fingers graze his neck. Almost instantly he's whipping back around to face her with one hand over the crown, leaned on a pool table as he tries to resist the urge to punch her lights out. Which isn't an anger thing, he just goes to 'fight' before 'flight' even enters his mind. Once he's convinced himself to calm back down, he just shakes his head. "Fuckin' God, way to make me panic for a minute. No, it's not a college dare. Used to work for a place back in my hometown. We all got them after about a year of steady service."
.
"Cute." She's smiling (though it's definitely more edged toward a smirk) up at him, resisting the very Drunk Alex urge to get closer. This is one of those times she has to pass for not as inebriated as she is. She can do that. Alex bites her tongue 'cause she is so tempted to make a comment about if he's got any other hidden ink. And to give him a thorough look-over. Nope. Not appropriate, Drunk Alex. We don't eyefuck people on the first night. When they're more sober than us, anyway. Most of the time. The more she considers it, the more exceptions she seems to find. But she keeps her eyes on his face instead of the rest of him.
Either way, her smile is maybe a teensy bit predatory. Keeps her distance, though, so that's something. "Did it hurt?" It's said teasingly, with just enough well-meaning joke in it to keep it from being outright mocking.
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His mouth purses into a thin line, but he doesn't do much more than that. It's once more occurring to him that he doesn't even know her name. Granted, it's only been a night, but they've actually been making half-decent conversation, or something close to it, and just calling her a manic pixie dream girl isn't going to sit entirely well. Or at least, based on demeanor, she'll probably sock him in the jaw. Which is fair when someone you barely know on a first name basis is calling you a movie trope. "Not as much as the ink on my back. That one felt like it took just about forever to get done."
Jonas isn't about to show it off to her, but it did feel like forever. He's had it for several years now: a pair of wings that stretched from both shoulder blades all the way down to his sacrum. He's still trying to figure out how to ask her name without sounding like a complete and utter creep.
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Alex's eyes light up. "No way! Can I s-" She snaps her mouth closed barely before asking can I see? but Drunk Alex is steadily emerging, and she seems to think the less creepy option is to take a step back, turn around and reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling just the back up to her neck to show off the ink she has on the back of her right shoulder. It's a nice piece. A collage of sorts. For Michael. Just like the first one. And the third. Which is just barely peeking out from the top of her skirt, just the top stems of the letters from where they sit on the back of her hip.
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His mouth opens, and he's confused for just a second before she's pulling her shirt up and hey what the fuck is she doing — Oh, that's a tattoo. That's a tattoo, and now he feels like even more of a creep for the original direction his mind was going in. Even worse when he wants to run his hands over the lines and lineless edges of ink, to ask what it's about, to survey about as close as he can get. Then his eyes dip lower and Jonas is berating himself for even trying to look over her, because again he doesn't even know her fucking name. God he needs to get a hold of himself. She kind of does, too, but he isn't even going to hop onto that train.
So instead, he does the next best thing. Heaves a sigh, spins around from where he's leaned on the pool table, and copies her motion to pull up the back of his shirt. "Here. Know what you were gonna say, anyways." The wings are folded up against his back, black outline to a rainbow of color making up the feathers, the very tips dipping below his waistband.
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Her shirt is still riding up her back as she turns, but it's forgotten as he straight up invites her and- "Holy shit." Alex's fingers itch and— well, Drunk Alex is having a field day, 'cause her fingers are tracing the inner curves, admiring the work. "Fuck, how long did that take? Is this local?" It's a nice tat. Like, way better than the crown by far. Definitely custom, and well thought out, and gorgeous. Something with a story.
Leaning closer, she presses the top of his back like she can bend him over the table to get better lighting. "Whoever did this really knew color, wow." She's no expert on tattoos, not by a long shot, but she's seen some pieces attempting to be 'rainbow' that ended up either Lisa Frank gradients or muddied up and unevenly toned. This is a great dispersal of colors.
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Jonas straightens up into a line when she first touches him, and it doesn't seem like he's going to relax anytime soon, but he doesn't pull away. Instead he puts up with her hands on his back, glancing to her over his shoulder every so often as if he can gauge when she's going to get tired of the motion and go back to whatever she was doing before. "Place in my hometown. Took… a few days in all? Maybe a week. I got it done forever ago." Or at least what felt like forever ago.
When his mom had died, his first tattoo had been for her. A bible verse, right above his heart, Joshua 1:9. His next one was the crown, and he'd just gone from there. He has a pretty high pain tolerance, and it was kind of good training for his patience. Sitting still for hours on end kept him from getting too frenzied when he deals with other people.
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A low whistle issues from her lips as Alex passes her hand over the other wing as well. Her fingertips trace the lines of feathers lightly. He didn't take her ever so gentle request to get into the light, so she's stuck squinting, trying to catch the detail on the line work. Luckily she comes just barely above his shoulder, so she's close enough to get a good view without needing to bend too much. Benefits of being short? Shorter than him, at least.
"Well whoever did it is a diamond in the rough. I might want a referral." Not that she has an idea of what she wants to get next. But she probably will get something else at some point. She's always tempted after seeing some nice ink.
Her hand hesitates as she catches a glimpse of another piece wrapped around under his arm. It's a cool bit of realism, enough that she sucks air between her teeth. "Oh damn, gruesome." A hook dug into skin, curving around his torso. Her fingers skate down and around his ribs, pushing aside more fabric to get a better look.
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—And that's where that tour of his body ends. Because if she keeps going he's going to get wrong ideas, or flip out, or something like that. So Jonas rolls out his shoulders enough to shrug her hands off of him, dropping his shirt back into its proper place before going back to fixing up the pool tables and dart board. "If you wanna get something done from him, I can find wherever I flung his card. Not even sure I still have it— may as well be one of my phone contacts, at this point."
Notes (from the AO3 posting): I know the other chapter just went up, but unlike So it Goes which is a completed fic with a regular posting schedule (well, regular-ish, appx one chapter per 5-7 days) this one is still being written and we don't care quite so much about having it be airtight (sorry). On the plus side, this means that when I (Turner) get overenthusiastic and want to post a chapter super quick, I can! And, in this case, also make playlists and mood boards to my heart's content! Basically, this AU is super duper fun and self-indulgent and we're having a great time writing it. The first three chapters will likely go up in close succession, mostly because it sets up the dynamic between these two, all taking place the same night, and then after that we'll see. Probably quick because I'm an impatient person xD
-OWT [links to playlists can be found, along with a variety of aesthetics, on my tumblr (OneWhoTurns)]