CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Mar 5, 2019 12:49:42 GMT
At least it hadn’t been a crack of dawn opening shift. That had to be the one blessing to it all, right? It sure as hell hadn’t been the three year old who’d poured his oatmeal all over her when she’d leaped in to help out the wait staff when weirdly they’d been slammed by a brunch crowd on a Wednesday afternoon. Just as she’d emerged from the staff room, in the spare jeans she’d wisely kept for emerged she’d discovered that today’s beer delivery hadn’t arrived. On the brink of tearing her hair out Clea had called the supplier to beg, wheedle or demand a delivery before they ran out and the Sheriff’s department was going to have to deal with a full blown riot.
Hanging up the phone with a promise that the delivery would be with them within an hour Clea crumpled over the bar and thumped her head against it lightly. Grimacing she straightened up, a hand coming up to rub at her forehead. Ugh, sticky! Which meant she had to wipe the bar down before the lunch rush swarmed in and turned last night’s headache into a full on brain explosion. As it was she was already moving towards the melon splitting stage. That, Clea knew as she grabbed a clean towel to start wiping the bar down, had as much to do with the dreams that had been plaguing her this week as anything on the job.
Every single morning, whether she was shaken from it by the alarm clock at dawn or came around on her own at closer to the more dignified hour of 10am it had been exactly the same thing. Even as she sprayed at the sticky patch on the bar and wiped over it again she could feel the memory grow claws and swipe at her gut. Rarely did she get dreams repeat so often or so clearly. A young face, around the same age as her own, she thought, handsome, perhaps even angelic. He could’ve graced the walls of thousands of teen girls’ bedrooms, except for those dark veins, except for the blood that stained his lips as he drank from the man in the trench-coat. Usually by now she had an inkling of when something was going to happen or it would already have come to pass but not this time, this felt much more like the dreams she’d had of Caleb’s parents.
”You’d think by now this would be a little easier to control.” Or at least a little easier to interpret. No matter how she tried to think her way around things, no matter how she picked at it these dreams were still shrouded in mystery until lightning struck and she found herself in the middle of things. ”Clea! Order for table 16.” Pasting on a smile, she turned and grabbed the two plates from the pass. The smile stayed on her face as she headed for the table, only flickering away when she turned back towards the bar and spotted the door opening and a customer coming in and there wasn’t a server in sight.
Biting her tongue, praying for patience and this headache pounding through her skull to stop Clea headed to the door to greet the next customer. Her smile pushed its way onto her face, freezing as she saw him. There was no trench coat wearing travelling salesman type in sight but it was undoubtedly him. ”Of all the gin joints in all the towns you had to walk into mine,” she muttered under her breath. The smile took a little more effort but she gestured to him with the menus. ”Are you dining with us today? Would you like a seat at the bar or can I show you to a table?” Or maybe the way to a hunter, she thought, just to make sure you don’t get your hands on Mr Dark, Stocky and Faintly Pervy.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Apr 26, 2019 20:54:56 GMT
By now she should’ve been used to this – the tug in the pit of her stomach as something she’d dreamed of started to fall into place piece by piece, that moment where it felt like all the oxygen in her lungs disappeared in an instant as recognition hit. That first time it had happened terror had followed it, the sound of gun fire in the camp nightmarish in the extreme, the certainty that her dad had been hit by it, that he was sprawled, broken, on the ground, bleeding out even as she bolted from her bed. Over time Clea had become accustomed enough with it to calm herself in moments when it was that sort of precognition that woke her in a cold sweat, but still, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it all, especially not in a town like Mystic Falls. Even if she hadn’t found SJ here and been practically initiated into the sort of thing that her family had been dealing with ever since Morgan had died, Clea knew that she couldn’t have avoided the supernatural here for too long. It was in practically every breath you breathed and more often than not, it was hanging out at the bar when she got to work, smirking at her, blue eyes twinkling, sarcasm dripping from its very tongue.
She hadn’t seen enough in her dreams of the brunet who’d walked in the door tonight to know whether or not he had Damon’s sense of humour, but she had seen enough of him to know that maybe, for once, she should’ve kept her mouth shut when he appeared. Clea knew that some would’ve considered that an impossibility, given her reputation for talking near continuously from the moment she woke to the moment she slept, and occasionally beyond, but at times like this it was probably necessary. And for God’s sake, she still hadn’t been able to do it. She’d used it as a shield as he’d strolled in instead, pushing the familiar words past her lips … in the wake of the sort of comment she hadn’t been able to keep a hold on. Talk about waving a red flag in front of a bull, although in this case it was probably waving a bloody flag in front of a vampire. Clea didn’t need to see the dark veins worming their way beneath his eyes or his fangs emerging from behind those thin lips.
Her own teeth sank into her lip to avoid spitting anything else at him as he just strolled towards the bar, ignoring what she said to slide onto a stool. She stood for a moment, watching him slip a hand into the pocket of his jacket. Rude as hell. It certainly explained what he’d been doing in her dream and made her hope that she’d see the guy in the trench coat before this jerk found him. Clea knew she couldn’t deny him every meal, not without maybe getting herself in over her head later on tonight, but maybe she could deny him one at least. Clea pasted a thin smile of her own on as she shoved the menu she’d picked up back onto the pile. ”Not any way to speak to most paying customers,” she said, a sugared tone to her voice. Clea headed in his direction, rounding the bar just in time to see him hold a hundred dollar bill up in her direction. It took everything in her not to make a disgusted sound in his direction and just walk away. Paying customers were one thing, supernatural paying customers another, smug jerks with pockets that went deep enough to excuse their rudeness were another entirely.
Snatching the bill from his hand, Clea set it down behind the bar and turned her back on him to fill him a glass. She took one down before she glanced over her shoulder at him and gestured up at the stack of bottles. ”The top shelf stuff or are you looking to buy a half dozen bottles of the gut rot?” she asked. It would serve him right if he chose the latter. Alcohol didn’t have an ounce of effect on vampires, Damon had assured her of that, but it didn’t seem to stop them wanting to drink it anyway. Her mouth twitched as she waited for him to snark out an answer, her fingertips tapping a slow rhythm on the curve of the glass. ”I wouldn’t recommend biting me at all if you want any sort of service today. The managers frown upon the staff becoming snacks for the customers.” Given the turn over at the Grill she couldn’t really blame them for that. There were far too many missing persons in this town, far too many people who didn’t just wake up in the morning and decide they’d had enough of Mystic Falls. She’d seen all of those faces splashed across the Courier’s front pages with pleas for information on their whereabouts.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on May 27, 2019 19:43:58 GMT
Ever since she’d realized the difference she could make Clea had followed through on as many of her visions as she absolutely could. Most weren’t ever going to be life changing for the person involved but for some her not acting on what she had seen meant death for them. Her father included perhaps. She’d never been told just how close to death he’d been when help had arrived and they’d loaded him onto the chopper to evacuate from the camp that day but Clea knew enough medical lingo to have known that it was bad, really bad. It was part of the reason why she’d been keen to stay put in London while he was treated, the other part of course, purely selfish. That was the part of her she didn’t allow too much satisfaction. She’d been given a gift, one that could be used to save lives, to make the town around her a little bit better. That meant her giving in and paying attention to it, warning people, occasionally setting aside her hunt for the truth about her family .. and it meant looking at people … things … like the man at the bar … and trying to find a way around what they were going to do.
Admittedly, she thought as she took the money from his fingers, that usually didn’t mean having to serve them drinks while they attempted to sweet talk her, at least that was what she supposed he’d been doing with the endearments dripping from his words. Usually she’d have played along with them, flashing her customers smiles, shooting those sort of words right back at them as she convinced them to turn one or two drinks into four and adding a side of fries to what was supposed to just be a quick pint before they headed home to an empty apartment. This one was different though. Clea could feel his eyes on her as she turned her back on him and it took a real effort not to squirm under the weight of his gaze. She put his glass down on the bar before she looked over her shoulder, offering him a choice of what he was going to drink. It could’ve gone either ways, she would have happily seen him choke on the cheapest stuff the bar served. Maybe it would’ve burnt his throat enough that he wouldn’t bother snacking on the dark haired man in the trench coat on his way home. If it was today that it was going to happen on.
Clea pinched her lips into a thinner line as he smirked, a sigh puffing out through her nose instead. She saw his gaze drop, undoubtedly fixing on what he really wanted. Lifting her head an inch she cleared her throat at him, raising her brows. ”Did I say that loudly enough?” she asked sweetly. ”Are you a Buffalo Trace kind of guy or should I just go for the Jim Beam? You like look the sort with a cast iron stomach.” Tapping her fingers impatiently, she waited just like that until he actually found his voice. ”The top shelf then, love” she said on a sigh. Gritting her teeth, Clea turned around, rising up on her tiptoes, one hand planted flat against the bar at the back to reach for the bottle. She teetered there, finger scrabbling before she got a grip and dropped back down. ”It’s a bit of a waste of money if you ask me. Wasted on most if you ask me.” She poured an exact measure in it before turning around. Blue eyes met his darker eyes and narrowed right back at him. Grabbing a napkin in the other hand she set it down on top of it in front of him. The hundred dollar bill was still clutched in her fingers, hovering there as she tried to decide whether or not to bite her own tongue.
Some part of her doubted that he was all that picky. It wasn’t like he’d really hesitated before he’d sunk his fangs into Mr Pervy. Clea turned on one heel, punching the ludicrous price of the single glass into the cash register. She snatched his change out, turned back to lay that just as gently in front of him. ”The likes of me?” she asked, just a trace of haughtiness in her tone before she laughed. Tossing her hair back over her shoulder to further reveal the artery in her neck almost in a dare, Clea shook her head. ”Just consider me the deliverer of your own personal allocation of paper cuts. You’ve heard of death by a thousand cuts right?” It was torture, just as dealing with him now was. Her smile was bitter now as she planted her elbows against the bar in front of him and leaned down. ”Maybe I should see if I can dig up a trench coat somewhere. Would that make me a little more your type? I mean, I assume you have one. A little rumpled looking, rocking the whole Peter Falk thing…” The man from her dream had certainly fit that description. If the vampire responded to it then at least she’d known she’d missed out on being able to help this time around.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Jul 29, 2019 12:02:30 GMT
Trouble. He’d practically reeked out of it since she’d first seen him in her dreams. Now that he was here in the bar Clea was only more certain that she’d ended up neck deep in it the moment he’d walked in. What would’ve been wise would’ve been to pass him off to one of the other servers but that would only have grated at her conscience. She’d dreamt of him for a reason and if that was being able to save the guy in the trench coat then she’d do it, no matter the cost to her. He was certainly trying to get some digs in, lashing with what he obviously thought was a scalpel edged tongue. Clea aimed her own thin lipped smirk back at him as he laid his threat on the line. ”Worse huh? I’d say threatening the staff might just do the same for you.” Especially when his own assumptions were thicker on the ground. She might’ve appeared patently human on the surface but she had depths and those had caused the downfall of vamps before. Killing still didn’t sit well with her but when the choice came between that and saving a life she’d done it each time.
Bingo. He might’ve only been joking about her reading his mind but this guy had it in the ballpark even if he hadn’t realized. Thankfully she hadn’t been in his head but she’d definitely been a shadow when he’d killed that man. When he was going to kill that man? That part was still unclear. Clea gave a little snort, blue eyes cutting sharply into him. ”I don’t think you want me yelling about those proclivities in a public place but drink was I would’ve said the sort of thing that would eat through your gut until you started waving your money around.” If he’d been human she might’ve encouraged him to drink his way through the bar, hoping that he’d explode his liver and save this town dealing with his sort of problem but he’d probably be able to drink the whole bar dry without suffering the least little ill effect. The only thing dangerous in the whole bar to him was the furniture and no matter how tight a smile the thought of him skewering himself on the leg of that stool sitting on him brought on, she knew it was pointless even thinking about it. It wasn’t going to happen.
Sarcastic through her service or not she’d fetched his drink and put it down in front of him without tossing it in his face. It was a closer call with his change but that was because he was still grating away at her. He’d shot the insult at her this time around and yet since the customer was always supposed to be right, he got to be narky about the way she’d acted back. Mouth curved in a dismissive smile, Clea tiptoed, pretended to scope the place for her manager. ”No sir,” she chirped, landing back down as her search came up empty. ”You might have a problem locating her to tell her that her best employee started to act incredibly out of character with a customer. It’s Clea by the way … Cleeee-aaaaah.” She sounded out the syllables, as though he were a little simple in the head, not just arrogant and rude. Every little slight of his would be met with one, her parents had brought her up to defend herself in all ways after all. At his feigned ignorance of the notion of death by a thousand cuts she snorted, propping her hips back against the bar as she watched him. ”Let’s simplify it for you. The basic concept is that all those minor little injuries can add up to a hell of a lot of devastation. Since you obviously needed to be brought down a peg or two I started taking little slashes. Feeling them yet?” There was genuine interest in her question, her head tilting faintly to one side as he emptied his glass.
She angled forward as he did back, her elbows against the bar, her hands clasped in front of her as she shot her hips back. More little cuts, tiny slashes from her tongue that she doubted would do much damage. It had to be doing something though, she thought as he threatened her again, otherwise he would’ve blown her off and headed for greener pastures. Clea made a low sound in her throat, ignoring the smirk he was aiming at her. ”You keep saying I’m making assumptions but you’re doing the same. You think I’m reading your mind, like I’m some sort of psychic who can go poking around in that snake’s nest you’ve got inside that pretty head of yours.” Her mouth twitched at her compliment but her gaze was drilling at his forehead instead of meeting his dark eyes. Clea narrowed her own eyes for a moment, clucking her tongue as she considered her question. ”I’m willing to bet I missed the boat on what I saw. It’s not a matter you doing it soon. I think you already did. How’d he taste?” Probably better to the vampire than the top shelf liquor he’d just drunk but there was no account for taste really.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Aug 10, 2019 12:39:36 GMT
Most people on the Doctors without Borders circuit had been there out of the good of their heart. Some, like her dad, were wealthy enough that they didn’t need to worry about scurrying up the ladder at a hospital to try and make enough to pay off crippling student loans. Some had those loans but didn’t care, offering healthcare to those most in desperate need for it had come first. There’d been times her dad had shook his head at them but he’d always said he’d take them over those bordering on the edge of being sociopaths every single time. Arrogance was a given with some doctors but there were those that took their abilities to mean they had God like powers. They were above it all, twisting the words of those who tried to order them around because they knew better. Clea had watched her dad work with them, knew how hard it was to break through the iron wall of their rationale. The guy in front of her definitely would’ve been a match for any of them. She shook her head at him as he asked who’d said he was threatening the staff, rolling her aqua eyes at him. ”The person who was just on the receiving end of them,” she reminded him. Her mouth twisted wryly as she studied him. ”I tried being polite when you walked in here but when the rudeness is coming from both sides it’s hard to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, don’t you think?” His certainly wasn’t civil at all, not when he was patently insulting her.
Clea pursed her lips, pretending to consider who he meant for a moment. She knew it was Casey, the waitress who’d served her a dozen times over there since she’d come to town. Forcing her lips back into a sweet smile, Clea gestured out of the door, across the square to where the diner lay. ”I’m sure she’d be willing to greet you far more pleasantly right now.” Casey wouldn’t have seen what he’d been up to under the cover of darkness, she wouldn’t have those mental images driving her tongue, leaving her feeling nauseous. She had to bite down on the knee jerk response of ‘no reason’. He was obviously cracked, turning into a vampire likely heightening the asshole he’d been before to mammoth proportions.
Blue eyes narrowed, fixing on him even as he set the ice clinking in the glass by putting it down. He was talking a big game but so many others had with her before and in the end not a single one of them had come out of a conversation with the upper hand. It had driven her parents nuts when she was younger but in a battle of wits she just couldn’t step back. Clea let her lips curl wolfishly, her hip pressing harder against the curled mahogany edge of the bar. Her eyes cut around the Grill either side of them. ”It’s getting better all the time and I know how dangerous it is for those proclivities to become public in this town. You’ve heard of the Founder’s Council right?” She had, in part, thanks to SJ. The town council had a reputation for dealing with their problems internally. There were plenty of articles in the newspaper that she’d read between the lines on, probably incorrectly on occasion but there were some vampire she imagined had been ‘taken care of’. Pursing her lips faintly, Clea drew her gaze back to his. ”You’d be pretty ballsy to let me.” Her teeth sank into the tip of her tongue as she said it. Yeah, that was wise, push the vampire she’d already seen draining somebody. She was going to have to watch her back when she left the Grill tonight.
And hope that if he tried anything her power would react in the way it had before to save her ass. Maybe she should call SJ, having her here would certainly add a layer of protection. Or … she’d employ the same tactics she did with unruly kids in the bar. Damn it. The tilt of his head and that grin should’ve warned her but until the glass tipped off the bar and poured what was left of the liquor and the ice down the front of her pants. ”You must be a child,” Clea growled through gritted teeth. Bending down she snatched up the glass, luckily it hadn’t shattered on impact, rolling down to hit the top of her foot instead. She set it down behind the bar, out of his reach as she snatched up a towel and aimed a feral look in his direction. A part of her was glad to see him getting up to leave, another part of her dreaded the fact that maybe she’d been wrong and he hadn’t attacked the guy yet. Her visions had usually been of the future, not past events. Kicking herself mentally Clea pushed again. She was bound to regret it later but she shoved right at him as he went to walk away. Throat working, she watched him stop. Blue eyes studied his face, that smug expression he wore that she wanted to wipe right off. ”You did,” she said softly. ”And it wasn’t anything like you thought it was going to be.” Blonde brows drawing together as she rifled through those images in her brain. ”Did it hurt?” The words tripped off her tongue as she stopped wiping her pants down and dropped the towel.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Sept 1, 2019 17:19:21 GMT
Curiosity was always going to kill the cat. They might’ve had nine lives, might’ve slipped out of more scrapes than people could ever imagine, pausing to lick themselves afterwards as if there’d been no hint of danger or insanity in the first place, but eventually those lives ran short. Her parents had always cautioned her about being the same when she was growing up but Clea knew she never would’ve been able to stop herself. She was curious by nature, tenacious via her genes, even if they weren’t exactly the same genes she’d thought she’d been blessed with until she learned the truth. It was a bad combination, especially when it came to dealing with creatures strong enough to bat aside her fumbled attempts at telekinesis and drain her dry. Eyeing the young guy across the bar from her Clea liked to think that her body’s own natural protective instinct would kick in if he tried anything but it sure as hell wasn’t the time when she wanted to find out its limits.
Instead of trying to deal with him herself she’d dropped the Founder’s council right in there, the warning that most supernatural creatures with half a mind in town seemed to pay attention to. Clea’s gaze snagged back on him as she finished studying the room, her lips still hooked up high at the corners as he tried to shrug off her veiled threat. ”From what I’ve heard about here, most don’t but I suppose that’s the point of it, don’t you? Scare the abnormal population with your presence so they don’t go slipping. I’m pretty sure they’d be happy to pay you a visit if you need a little reminder of what they do.” She met his smug expression with her own. The Sheriff and her people weren’t here for once, but scream something loud enough and it was bound to get back to them eventually, even if it was only over her dead body when her little attempt to get this guy dealt with resulted in her becoming his latest victim. That would get the Columbo look alike some justice, but boy would it piss both of her families off.
As he practically waved her on to doing it Clea paused. This was stupid. It was one thing to stop him in his tracks when he was killing but it was another entirely to push him into hurting her. She’d been revealing all her cards here, albeit cards he didn’t seem to be able to read all too clearly. If she went screaming about everything she’d seen in her dreams then he’d know just how deep she’d managed to get and he would cut it all off with a snap of those pearly white teeth. She narrowed her blue eyes, her mouth pinching down into an acerbic smile. ”I don’t think I will,” she crooned. ”Where’s the fun in that when I can continue to play mindreader?” She raised fingers that thankfully didn’t shake and tapped them against her temple. If she was lucky she wouldn’t see him in her dreams again and someone else would take offence to him and do what she couldn’t here. She was rarely that lucky though.
In fact it was already turning sour, the vampire knocking over his glass, spilling what remained of the alcohol down her pants. Some part of her wanted to send the glass firing from the ground straight between those glittering eyes, or even right into that grinning mouth. He wouldn’t appreciate that so much, in fact, there was a chance he’d choke on it. Clea kept a grip on herself though, snarking back at him instead as she picked up the glass. ”Not even close, darling,” she managed back between gritted teeth. ”You’re talking like the nosiness was my choice, like your brattishness is. Trust me, there are hundreds more faces I’d rather dream about than yours.” But she didn’t get to pick and choose. She’d ended up seeing him in her dreams for the simple reason that he needed to be stopped.
A mention of how his victim had tasted did that now, preventing him from strolling out of the Grill’s doors. Clea saw him smirk at the idea but she stood her ground, trying to keep the breezy attitude up as he stepped back towards her. She swallowed, tilting her head to meet his eyes again. ”Uh huh. It’s written all over your face. Anybody ever tell you that you need a better poker face?” She was still going to have to change when he left, the stickiness of the liquor already getting to her in a way that would drive her mad before it dried. He crooned at her, tilting his head, inching in as he considered what she’d said. Clea knew she should’ve backed down but she stayed right there, her fingers curled around the edge of the bar, her heart threatening to tear its way free of her throat at his proximity. ”Just a little smoky but a good burn?” she asked, a song almost in her voice. It cut off in her throat as he caught the towel she dropped, folding it neatly before setting it down. He was close enough to touch her now. Clea didn’t back off as he did though, she merely grinned. ”Not such a good burn. I bet it was a real disappointment. He wasn’t human, was he?” There was little question in that, the pieces in her brain falling into place faster with his proximity.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Sept 19, 2019 19:30:59 GMT
Evil had seemed like an almost ludicrous concept when she was growing up. Her parents were atheists, both of them believing in altruism and science above anything else. There was talk of good and bad of course, but never weighted down with the sort of epic terms that left people believing in something else. If people broke the law they were bad and more often than not there was a ideological or physical reason. It wasn’t until they’d been forced to reveal things to her that she’d come to the realization that there were things out there that simply didn’t care they were doing harm. Inhuman, violent, evil things. Clea wouldn’t have labelled the man in front of her with the latter yet but violence definitely buzzed around him almost like an aura. There certainly hadn’t been a hint of regret, not this afternoon and not in her dream. He didn’t care that he was killing people, it was just another day, another five minutes, another moment of boredom for him to overcome. Just like the thing that had killed her sister. Clea swallowed hard, ducking her head for just an instant. That thing didn’t have a conscience either. Apparently demons never did but there were vampires who had other ways of dealing with what they’d become. Vampires that didn’t laugh about the idea of killing people, vampires that felt some shame here.
The blasé attitude of this one had niggled at her since he’d walked in the door and she’d realized that he was her latest dream man. Clea’s fingers tightened into a loose fist as he chuckled, the taste of disgust filling the back of her mouth as he tilted his head back and clucked his tongue at her. Some part of her wanted her telekinesis to lash out and rip it from his mouth but that wouldn’t have made her much better than him and she’d always been determined to remain above the things that her dreams had her dealing with. She shook her head, a trace of laughter trying to roll out of her. ”Persistent I might be but it was never about getting a rise out of you,” she told him. At the mention of the spill of alcohol she shifted her weight, trying to ignore the cling of the fabric against her thighs. What it had gotten her other than the spill of alcohol on her pants was the knowledge that there wasn’t anything she could do now about the guy in the trench coat. The attack had happened, there wasn’t anybody for her to save here. Blue eyes narrowed, her smile turning almost kittenish at him. ”Thinking of my thighs huh? I guess you definitely have no filter, no shame either. I might just stand here in them all evening. Better to suffer than to give you any sort of satisfaction.” Masochist. The little voice in her head warned her that she was being an idiot but honestly, why change the habit of a lifetime?
Because it could save her life. Poking this little hornet’s nest in the first place had been a mistake but by the time she’d realized that there was nothing she could do she was already far too invested to just let it all go. Letting go of the edge of the bar, forcing herself to peel her fingers away, Clea ran them through her hair, shoving it back from her face. It was taking a huge amount of guts to force herself to relax with him so close. Her eyes narrowed again, fixing on a point right between his dark brows as if she was trying to burrow through his skull. ”Not sure what,” she said softly, mustering up that image again, the look on the vampire’s face when he’d realized that something about the way the guy tasted wasn’t right. ”Nothing you’d tasted before so not something every day. I would say psychic, hoping that if that’s what happens to you when you taste somebody like me, you’d get the same shock if you tried sinking teeth into me. You’re not going to try that, though, are you?” Now that was a ridiculous dare. Waving the red rag to the bull, practically swooning over the bar and offering her neck up to somebody who obviously had no qualms about feeding on whoever he came across whenever he felt like it. Her mind was still racing through, trying to figure out just what Columbo had been.
|
|
CLEA GIVENS
Psychic
Posts: 315
Age:
30
Occupation:
Bartender at the Grill
Status:
Interested In
Partner:
Damian
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Mar 2, 2024 20:34:23 GMT
|
Post by CLEA GIVENS on Oct 21, 2019 19:31:16 GMT
It wasn’t intentional. It never had been. Some, like this guy, obviously believed it was, as though she took great joy in seeing the darkest recesses of their mind. As a seventeen year old would she have asked to see her father die, to realise too late only moments afterwards that her nightmare was coming true? Hell no. Would she have wanted to see every death, every evil swipe of fate, every single bad night someone was going to suffer since? Again. Hell to the no. There’d been times when she would’ve absolutely been glad to hand all of that back but Clea knew if she’d done so she never would’ve found her birth family. She’d still have been on the road with her parents, cut off from everything she’d ever wanted to do. There was a little blessing to go with the curse … even if she was having trouble seeing it right now. The urge to face palm was right there as he frowned at her now, practically telling her just to stop picking his brains if she wasn’t looking to get a rise out of him.
Fingers left stickier than she liked rose and fisted in her hair instead, tugging just hard enough that the sting of it stopped her from telling him to keep his bloody, literally, life private then. Neither one of them had been given much choice in her witnessing what he’d done, only in what they’d done since the two of them collided. Her mouth twisted faintly, her teeth gritting. ”Trust me, if I could avoid ending up back in there again I’d do it happily.” If she was lucky, if her brain would move on to showing her others raising merry hell here instead. There was nothing she could do for the guy in the trench coat after all. The chuckle that emerged as she took a swipe at his mention of him thinking about her thighs had her letting out a faint sound of disgust. She’d have called him a typical man but no one she’d ever met had been this infuriating and there had been some real peaches in the bars she’d worked in over the years. Her hands rose, as though warding off his question. ”I wasn’t the one that brought them up, that meant you had them up here…” she said as she tapped a finger against her temple. The kittenish smile remained, growing just a little smug around the edges. ”I like my men a little less egotistical but I guess we can’t all get what we want, can we? Now, that’s a sweeping statement. I’ve met plenty of your kind who’ve given a bloody fuck. Kudos for the accent by the way.” It wasn’t the first foul language thrown in her direction, certainly not the first in what she would’ve called an overdone accent. Men were the worst but plenty of women weren’t afraid to let rip when they thought they were in the right.
There was no victor here though. Only her pushing stupidly as he turned to walk away from her. Clea knew she should’ve let him go but by then she was too invested, too proud, or too dumb, to back away from someone who could make her life very painful later on. He’d stalked away from her, pausing at the doors to look at her as she practically dared him to do just that. Her mother would’ve said it was a twisted sort of reverse logic that just might work in some cases. Clea was willing to bet this wasn’t one of them. She held herself up proudly though, setting her hands back on the rolled edge of the bar as he said he wasn’t there to sink his teeth into anybody, he’d already done it. The laughter that rolled free as he said she desired it was perhaps a little sharp but Clea shrugged coyly in its wake. ”Maybe I wanted to get lucky.” Or maybe she wanted an excuse to send him flying through the air. He wouldn’t have been the first vampire she’d killed after all. The smile remained in place even as she caught the name and her brain faltered. ”I could’ve sent you flying through the front window of this place, but I didn’t. I guess both of us have a little more restraint than the other is giving them credit for.” Blue eyes rolled as he basically told her she’d gotten a lap full of alcohol because she was being a child. ”Next time you want to throw your toys out of your stroller find someone else’s dreams to end up in, love.” Smiling pointedly Clea raised her hand to wave him off. The minute he was out of the door she was cursing him. Next time he showed up someone else could be rubbed raw by what he undoubtedly thought was charm. ”Pete, do me a favour and watch the bar. I need to get changed.” Leaving the waiter looking faintly confused she headed for the locker room and a very necessary pair of dry pants.
Tagged: Finis * Word Count: 855
|
|