what you did in the dark | ({meghan}

[dars]

alfius keller
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SO LIGHT 'EM UP
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The deck of cards in his back pocket felt heavy against his leg as he walked down the sidewalk. He took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it aside and stuffing his hands inside his his coat. The cold night air was becoming almost unbearable, but he gritted his teeth and surged forward. How could he have possibly lost that night? How could he have fallen for the charade that the boy across from him acted out?

He walked around, claiming to be the best gambler around. "I could gamble my own life and walk away a richer man." He used to brag. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't all that good after all. Alfie was well known for his boasting abilities, for his tendency to over estimate himself, and even for making others believe him, but maybe he wasn't quite as good as he was chalked up to be. No, that was ridiculous. Of course he was, so what? He had lost one, but everyone did. Alfius was not a loser by any means.

He wasn't sure where exactly he was going, he just knew he couldn't go home. Not yet. He craned his neck and cracked a smile when he found himself climbing the steps of a bar. The owner went to school with his parents, and had been pretty damn close to his father. All Alfie had to do was put on his poker face and act like he was allowed to be there and the man would slide him a drink and forget to ask how old he was. This time he didn't even bother asking if his father was okay with it, though.

"How's your old man?" He asked, pouring a spirit into a glass filled with ice cubes. "Fine. He told me to say hello for him. It was a complete lie, but the man laughed and looked at his shoes. "I haven't seen him in... years. Tell him I say hello too." He flashed a quick wink at Alfie and tossed the towel in his hands over his right shoulder as he walked away to tend to other customers.

He took a sip of the drink- Vodka, he believed, and good Vodka. Just the small amount he swallowed was enough to make his throat burn and his stomach tingle. He felt as if he should have been remorseful for all of the lies he told, for the sheer manipulation that had taken over such a large part of who he was as a person, but he couldn't find it within him to do so. Lying, especially when it didn't hurt anyone, was just a fun way for him to get what he wanted. Alfie always got what he wanted. One way or the other.

OOC: TABLE CREDIT GOES TO LEI.

[Meghan]

Rigid air surrounds twilight rebellion. A man inhales and exhales poison, in and out, in and out. Softly, with nimble fingers he twirls the ever-burning stick of poison in a deceiving stance against the wall of a building far-too-old for him. "No underages allowed." The door reads, but the thought that the notice could possibly pertain to him fails to pierce his black-canvas eyes as he drops the cigarette and follows a stranger into the bar. 

He tiptoes on the daisies, cautious to their questions and immune to their stares, as he glides into a stool and faces the boy who passed him moments ago. Time stirs watchfully and he bites back the venom still painting his lungs with an early death. "You come h-h-here often?" The boy manages to stutter out a greeting before dropping his eyes to the counter below him. 

One, two, three.
I wish I could speak like thee.
Four, five, six.
I wish you could hear like me.

Was he the freak with his broken speech? Or did the world choose not to understand the scuffle of mousey phrases forced out by a boy, who in the end, was just like them? Randolph was not at fault for the inattention of the world. He stumbled through every word, but it was others, the strangers at the bar and the embarrassed women reluctant to enter his sheets, who thought his prose to be wrong. "Say it like this, Randolph." "Damn't, it's ain't that hard." "You're useless if you keep talkin' like that, boy." 

"What ya want?" A suspicious face demands. Randolph trails his gaze away from the wood and swallows the knife that entered his cracking throat after the embarrassing entrance before.

"W-what?" He manages in response. Caught off guard by the question. So the demons wouldn't ask for identification of their incompetent knight. The guy seems to chuckle at this, but repeats the question. "I said, what do you want?"

"O...oh. Um... I'll h-h-have what he's h-having." Randolph nodded towards the boy in front of him. He let the moonlight whisper its accusations into his ears as the man got his drink poured and settled. "I hope you...you don't mmmind."