Better Next Time
Feb. 12th, 2008 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
actionreactionChloe had only been in town a few hours, but she could already tell Point Hope was nothing like Nome. Point Hope was small, quiet, and in the middle of nowhere. She could tell it was clearly a place to get away from everything, and that was just what she needed.
Despite -- or maybe because of -- the fact that the town was so small, Chloe’s arrival was not the small hushed matter she’d hoped for. Barrages of questions, greetings, and comments came her way, and hours later, Chloe found herself hiding in the cabin she had purchased. It was set a little outside of town, far enough away to have the privacy she wanted, but close enough to town still to not be completely closed off.
She was closed off at that moment though, sitting in her room, knees against her chest, and arms wrapped around them She still had that headache. The pounding insistent one that never liked to go away once it started. In fact, it hardly ever really went all the way away anymore, sort of like psychic buildup in her head. Which it was, actually. It sometimes helped when she gave in, and tried to see something, let the impending vision come, or let the flash of insight that started the headache run its entire course. It helped. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, not since her mother died, not since all she knew she’d see right now was...
So there was only one way to get rid of the pounding headache. Alcohol. Tequila usually did the trick. Chloe carefully eased out of bed, slipped on shoes and her coat, and headed out. She’d gotten a little tour of town earlier by the Mayor’s incredibly chatty grandson, and she remembered enough to know the important places: the general store, Morton’s Diner, and the bars. One in particular was closest to her cabin, and that was where she had chosen to go - Gone Fishin’.
Gone Fishin’ was lively, packed with people drinking, laughing, and talking. Chloe squeezed past the sea of people to wade up to the bar, which was when she discovered Gone Fishin’s bartender was a non-native of Point Hope as well. The bartender, by the name of Charlie, was clearly not Inuit like nearly the entire town - he was blond, and that made him stand out. His good looks made him stand out more. Chloe stared at him for a full minute, too shy to raise her voice for his attention.
She didn’t need to. Charlie, the blond bartender in question, certainly noticed her. She didn’t look Inuit either, though Charlie wasn’t sure what she was then, except cute as hell and almost painfully shy. That was often a great combination, Charlie had found. A smirk curved his lips as he slid in front of her. “I don’t have to ask if you’re new here. I’d definitely have remembered your face otherwise.” Charlie laid the charm on thick. He was good at that. “So, what’s your name and what’s your drink?” He leaned in close, close enough for Chloe to tell he had gorgeous deep green eyes.
“Uh -- um,” she stammered, blood rushing to her face. Jesus, Chloe, she chided herself. He just asked a question, that was all! But that didn’t feel like all, not with him leaning so close. “Chloe. And a double shot of tequila please.”
Charlie was a little surprised at her request. Chloe was small and had an almost frail build, though that might have just been the way she carried herself. And with her quiet hesitation, Charlie certainly hadn’t expected straight liquor as her choice. But hey, maybe she’d had a rough day, or maybe she was tougher than she looked. Either way, Charlie was already interested, probably because she was so damn shy. He poured her the shot, leaving lingering glances on her all the while. She kept blushing; Charlie saw opportunity.
“Rough day already? You just moved here, didn’t you?” He sounded concerned, curious, and considerate as he handed her the drink, making sure their hands brushed. He wasn’t any of the above really. Maybe curious, but only enough to wonder if her day was the kind of bad he could pick up the pieces of. She was already drinking; that helped. Shy, sad girls deep in their cups had a tendency to be an easy lay and a hell of a fuck.
Chloe slid her drink closer to her, not quite meeting Charlie’s eyes as she looked up. “It was a really rough day before I moved.” Brown eyes darted up to his face and looked swiftly back down at the drink. “Been a rough few weeks actually.” She gulped down the double shot, wincing as it burned its way down. God, maybe she should have started with something a little less hard after all.
Charlie poured a few more drinks for some other people, but his attention barely wavered from Chloe. “Sounds shitty, Chloe. Name’s Charlie, by the way,” he said, and Chloe swore that if smiles really could ping like they did on TV, his would have. She should have known then. Those pinging smiles were always on people up to no good. “How about another shot? Sounds like you need it,” he continued. “You wanna talk about it or just drink and forget?”
There were several kinds of drunks, Charlie knew. The ones who drank and never shut up, the ones who drank in a corner and said nothing, the ones who drank and wound up dancing on tables and possibly passed out somewhere, and the ones who started fights. And then there was the kind Charlie was really starting to hope Chloe was. The kind who drank enough to loosen up, lose inhibitions, and have a hella good time.
Chloe looked up to find green eyes still watching her. Her own gaze lingered; she just couldn’t look away from him. She reddened again, and accepted the drink. It couldn’t really hurt, right?
Charlie grinned again. Score. Charlie wasn’t lacking in confidence. He knew she was interested, didn’t matter how shy she was. The telling little glances, the color that stayed in her cheeks - they spoke far louder than she did. Which Charlie decided to abuse. The bar was loud as hell anyway, so the next time Chloe spoke, it didn’t seem odd for him to lean in so very close again.
Chloe, however, was out of her depth. Between the drinks, the state she was in before she even started drinking, and her natural desire to just shrink away, she was slowly growing more and more flustered... and more drunk. She accepted the third drink - she couldn’t really say no, not when Charlie so charmingly offered it ‘on him.’ Chloe knew he meant for free, but her mind took those two words someplace that surprised her. Her face flaming red again, she downed the third drink.
Ten minutes later she was pretty certain she’d had enough. The room wasn’t exactly spinning, but it was shaky. Or maybe that was her. Everything was really funny. Okay, maybe that was her too. But Charlie’s interest in her and his incredible good looks certainly weren’t drunken misconceptions. The bartender was still flirting with her, and now, she was flirting back, in a way she’d find horribly embarrassing later.
Charlie, however, was thrilled. He’d had the feeling a few good drinks would loosen her up. And she was definitely interested. It wasn’t late enough in the night to make the suggestion he’d have liked to - which was inviting her to his convenient room upstairs. It paid to live above the bar. Drunk chicks didn’t have to be convinced too much that home was too far and his place right upstairs was a really good idea.
Now if only he could convince Chloe the same thing. She was giggly now, and the touches he brushed against her skin lingered. And were reciprocated. Those warm brown eyes stayed fixed on him, even if they were drooping just a little. “So you have any plans for the rest of the night, Chloe?” Charlie asked, hoping to get her to stay longer, till closing time.
Chloe shook her head and swayed a little. “Not exactly, nooo.” She covered her mouth, giggling, and then continued. “Tomorrow I have to go job-hunting. I wasssn’t s’pposta get drunk tonight. Not this drunk anyway.” She pointed a finger at him as she slurred her words. “I blame you for that.”
Charlie grinned. “Guilty as charged. But hey, you’re smiling now right? You just needed to relax. Loosen up.” He rubbed her hand, his thumb sliding gently and smoothly over her skin.
Chloe’s eyes dropped to his hand on hers and made a slow wavering climb back up to his face. “Y-yeah.”
Despite -- or maybe because of -- the fact that the town was so small, Chloe’s arrival was not the small hushed matter she’d hoped for. Barrages of questions, greetings, and comments came her way, and hours later, Chloe found herself hiding in the cabin she had purchased. It was set a little outside of town, far enough away to have the privacy she wanted, but close enough to town still to not be completely closed off.
She was closed off at that moment though, sitting in her room, knees against her chest, and arms wrapped around them She still had that headache. The pounding insistent one that never liked to go away once it started. In fact, it hardly ever really went all the way away anymore, sort of like psychic buildup in her head. Which it was, actually. It sometimes helped when she gave in, and tried to see something, let the impending vision come, or let the flash of insight that started the headache run its entire course. It helped. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, not since her mother died, not since all she knew she’d see right now was...
So there was only one way to get rid of the pounding headache. Alcohol. Tequila usually did the trick. Chloe carefully eased out of bed, slipped on shoes and her coat, and headed out. She’d gotten a little tour of town earlier by the Mayor’s incredibly chatty grandson, and she remembered enough to know the important places: the general store, Morton’s Diner, and the bars. One in particular was closest to her cabin, and that was where she had chosen to go - Gone Fishin’.
Gone Fishin’ was lively, packed with people drinking, laughing, and talking. Chloe squeezed past the sea of people to wade up to the bar, which was when she discovered Gone Fishin’s bartender was a non-native of Point Hope as well. The bartender, by the name of Charlie, was clearly not Inuit like nearly the entire town - he was blond, and that made him stand out. His good looks made him stand out more. Chloe stared at him for a full minute, too shy to raise her voice for his attention.
She didn’t need to. Charlie, the blond bartender in question, certainly noticed her. She didn’t look Inuit either, though Charlie wasn’t sure what she was then, except cute as hell and almost painfully shy. That was often a great combination, Charlie had found. A smirk curved his lips as he slid in front of her. “I don’t have to ask if you’re new here. I’d definitely have remembered your face otherwise.” Charlie laid the charm on thick. He was good at that. “So, what’s your name and what’s your drink?” He leaned in close, close enough for Chloe to tell he had gorgeous deep green eyes.
“Uh -- um,” she stammered, blood rushing to her face. Jesus, Chloe, she chided herself. He just asked a question, that was all! But that didn’t feel like all, not with him leaning so close. “Chloe. And a double shot of tequila please.”
Charlie was a little surprised at her request. Chloe was small and had an almost frail build, though that might have just been the way she carried herself. And with her quiet hesitation, Charlie certainly hadn’t expected straight liquor as her choice. But hey, maybe she’d had a rough day, or maybe she was tougher than she looked. Either way, Charlie was already interested, probably because she was so damn shy. He poured her the shot, leaving lingering glances on her all the while. She kept blushing; Charlie saw opportunity.
“Rough day already? You just moved here, didn’t you?” He sounded concerned, curious, and considerate as he handed her the drink, making sure their hands brushed. He wasn’t any of the above really. Maybe curious, but only enough to wonder if her day was the kind of bad he could pick up the pieces of. She was already drinking; that helped. Shy, sad girls deep in their cups had a tendency to be an easy lay and a hell of a fuck.
Chloe slid her drink closer to her, not quite meeting Charlie’s eyes as she looked up. “It was a really rough day before I moved.” Brown eyes darted up to his face and looked swiftly back down at the drink. “Been a rough few weeks actually.” She gulped down the double shot, wincing as it burned its way down. God, maybe she should have started with something a little less hard after all.
Charlie poured a few more drinks for some other people, but his attention barely wavered from Chloe. “Sounds shitty, Chloe. Name’s Charlie, by the way,” he said, and Chloe swore that if smiles really could ping like they did on TV, his would have. She should have known then. Those pinging smiles were always on people up to no good. “How about another shot? Sounds like you need it,” he continued. “You wanna talk about it or just drink and forget?”
There were several kinds of drunks, Charlie knew. The ones who drank and never shut up, the ones who drank in a corner and said nothing, the ones who drank and wound up dancing on tables and possibly passed out somewhere, and the ones who started fights. And then there was the kind Charlie was really starting to hope Chloe was. The kind who drank enough to loosen up, lose inhibitions, and have a hella good time.
Chloe looked up to find green eyes still watching her. Her own gaze lingered; she just couldn’t look away from him. She reddened again, and accepted the drink. It couldn’t really hurt, right?
Charlie grinned again. Score. Charlie wasn’t lacking in confidence. He knew she was interested, didn’t matter how shy she was. The telling little glances, the color that stayed in her cheeks - they spoke far louder than she did. Which Charlie decided to abuse. The bar was loud as hell anyway, so the next time Chloe spoke, it didn’t seem odd for him to lean in so very close again.
Chloe, however, was out of her depth. Between the drinks, the state she was in before she even started drinking, and her natural desire to just shrink away, she was slowly growing more and more flustered... and more drunk. She accepted the third drink - she couldn’t really say no, not when Charlie so charmingly offered it ‘on him.’ Chloe knew he meant for free, but her mind took those two words someplace that surprised her. Her face flaming red again, she downed the third drink.
Ten minutes later she was pretty certain she’d had enough. The room wasn’t exactly spinning, but it was shaky. Or maybe that was her. Everything was really funny. Okay, maybe that was her too. But Charlie’s interest in her and his incredible good looks certainly weren’t drunken misconceptions. The bartender was still flirting with her, and now, she was flirting back, in a way she’d find horribly embarrassing later.
Charlie, however, was thrilled. He’d had the feeling a few good drinks would loosen her up. And she was definitely interested. It wasn’t late enough in the night to make the suggestion he’d have liked to - which was inviting her to his convenient room upstairs. It paid to live above the bar. Drunk chicks didn’t have to be convinced too much that home was too far and his place right upstairs was a really good idea.
Now if only he could convince Chloe the same thing. She was giggly now, and the touches he brushed against her skin lingered. And were reciprocated. Those warm brown eyes stayed fixed on him, even if they were drooping just a little. “So you have any plans for the rest of the night, Chloe?” Charlie asked, hoping to get her to stay longer, till closing time.
Chloe shook her head and swayed a little. “Not exactly, nooo.” She covered her mouth, giggling, and then continued. “Tomorrow I have to go job-hunting. I wasssn’t s’pposta get drunk tonight. Not this drunk anyway.” She pointed a finger at him as she slurred her words. “I blame you for that.”
Charlie grinned. “Guilty as charged. But hey, you’re smiling now right? You just needed to relax. Loosen up.” He rubbed her hand, his thumb sliding gently and smoothly over her skin.
Chloe’s eyes dropped to his hand on hers and made a slow wavering climb back up to his face. “Y-yeah.”