KACE CLARKE
Werewolf
untriggered
Posts: 98
Age:
30
Occupation:
Owner of the Diner
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Nov 6, 2024 20:04:23 GMT
|
Post by KACE CLARKE on Sept 2, 2022 21:52:20 GMT
The lights were out in back, switched off as he’d drifted through the place. It was just the ones right at the front on now. A little pool of light bathing the chipped formica counter and that booth. Kace raked his teeth over his lower lip, glancing back at the one behind him. Naw, it was the one at the front. The old woman had been sitting directly behind him, shooting the owner looks as the guy had acknowledged the existence of someone who hadn’t been there, not really.
Kace sank down at the table slowly, turning around the coffee cup he’d set there to take a deep gulp of it. Maybe he could’ve pulled off that trick from beyond the grave, visually at least, but he wouldn’t have felt the scalding heat of the black coffee working its way down to his gut, or that lingering sweetness on his tongue. It’d been like a Hollywood set version of life – all special effects. Letting go of the cup he held his hand out in front of him, thumb and fingers pinched like he was holding a smoke. He bore down on that spot inside of him, the one that had been almost volcanic with his emotions when he’d started to slip, but now, nothing, no cigarette appearing in his hand or that remembered taste of smoke on his tongue. Yeah, that veil was down alright.
He tugged a pack of smokes from his pocket, shaking one out. The dark line of the healing cut on his finger stood out as he stuck it in his mouth and snicked the zippo open to light it. Kace leaned his head back, drawing in that first breath of smoke, holding it a couple of seconds before he let it plume up towards the ceiling. The PC brigade would probably rage about it, but fuck it, this was his place now and it was a good hour past closing. He could smoke the whole pack if he wanted to. Maybe the guy who’d sold it to him hadn’t imagined him doing this. At least the guy had some idea of how he’d gone from not being a risk to the smoke alarms and this though.
Something. Not surprising in this town. If Kit and the others had been clustered at the table he could’ve aimed the lit tip of the cigarette at each in turn marking out what was in his life now rather than who. Werewolf, dragon (what in the holy hell, but he’d seen the smoke with his own eyes and fuck), banshee (apparently things weren’t as sexist as they seemed, wailing men were a thing too), psychic, witch – human, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if Frank’s spark plug of a pal turned out to be something none of them were expecting.
Fuck, maybe that was a secondary excuse for Kit not wanting him in the club. Forget fragile human who sparked an episode every time he got stupid and cut his finger chopping potatoes. Fragile little human in a club full of apparently ancient, strong, touchy and blood thirsty things was just asking for trouble. Alright, he got it, wasn’t like he wanted to end up with a reaper on his ass again about giving in and going … either way.
Huffing out a breath, Kace picked up the coffee cup and took another gulp, the cigarette still smouldering between his fingers. If he was lucky – and that was gonna involve making this place a success and maybe getting his life back in California twisted back to something approaching how it’d been – it’d been five or six decades at least before he had to make that choice again.
There was movement out on the sidewalk, a guy making his way towards the door. Mikey. If the guy had a decent set of eyes in his head, he’d already know shit was hinky in the town, probably not that he was looking for a job from a guy who’d up until recently had been playing Sam Wheat right around here.
Kace set the cup back down on the table and gestured the guy in, knowing he’d be visible through the glass of the door. He shifted in the booth, gesturing towards the bench seat opposite as the guy stepped in. He had to have a decade on him maybe. Dark, a little rough around the edges. The sort of guy who hung out on the less glossy spots in LA, the sort you maybe didn’t mess with. Not that it’d been how he’d sounded in their brief exchange on the phone earlier. ”Hey,” he murmured, switching the cigarette to the other hand to offer his right to the guy. ”Kace. It’s Mikey, right? You wanna grab yourself somethin’ … figure it always easier to talk when it’s not so stiff, y’know?” Like being a semi-decent line cook needed a twelve page resume and a fucking portfolio of dishes laid out for a tasting.
|
|
MIKEY BUCKLEY
Kanima
Posts: 143
Age:
41
Occupation:
Line Cook
Status:
In a Relationship
Partner:
Mab Carmello
Played by:
Jodi
Broken isn’t the same as unfixable
Last seen Nov 12, 2024 16:41:49 GMT
|
Post by MIKEY BUCKLEY on Sept 13, 2022 13:02:02 GMT
One tiny tick in a tiny fucking box was all it took for someone to shred his job application into pieces. He was a criminal and most didn’t see past that, believing a tiger's stripes remain the same. They didn’t give a shit about his education or previous job history, which were both lacking in any event. His parents told him education was important but Mikey thought he knew better. Here he was decades later paying the price with a few measly qualifications over his head and zero work experience, at least in the real world. The only jobs he had was inside. Woodwork, laundry, kitchen. All of them paid well below minimum wage but he needed money on his phone cards to phone Chase. Plus it was nice to devour a bag of Cheetos every now and then. He threw all these jobs in his resume but finally a job came up that he had some previous experience for. A line cook. Whilst the prison kitchen wasn’t like a diner kitchen, they still operated the same except this one would have knives out ready for use rather than behind a locked door. When he first landed the job in the kitchen he was worried Rodolpho would be asking him to steal some of the knives, but thankfully he didn’t. Mikey was left in peace in the kitchen. It was a mini escape from the rest of the prison and the wages were a little better, which meant more bags of Cheetos. Needless to say he was shocked when he received a call from Kace inviting him for an interview. Had he not spotted the question about Mikey being a convicted criminal? He went through Chase's wardrobe frantically trying to find something half decent to wear, given his only decent shirt was to be worn to the Founders Day party, which was a whole different nightmare. People, mingling, music. His brother convinced him to go, even if it was just for an hour. He couldn’t understand though, it wasn’t as if the place was some kind of family gathering where it was polite to show up. He had no ties to the small town and the only reason he was there was because Chase was. Mikey wasn’t the type to get nervous over things because he’d survived everything that had been thrown at him so far, but being invited in for a job interview was something to set off those nerves but he reminded himself there wouldn’t be a report attached to this. Something to be sent off to the parole board to decide whether or not he was a danger to society. As he approached the diner he spotted a guy lingering behind the glass. Long blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail. He appeared to be calm and collected, dressed somewhat casually. Mikey had opted for a dark shirt and jeans. It was a casual chat at a diner, not an interview at some prestigious law firm. The blonde man gestured to him to come inside, helping him to put a name to the face. He pushed the door open, approached the booth, sliding into the seat across from Kace. “Hey.” He extended his right hand forward, giving the other man a firm handshake, although not as firm as he would give when meeting fellow prisoners. He didn’t need to assert his dominance, instead he needed a fucking job. “Yeah, Mikey. Nice to meet you Kace.” No alcohol would help to loosen him a little, “Just a glass of water, please.” Anything else would be wasted on him. KACE CLARKE |
|
KACE CLARKE
Werewolf
untriggered
Posts: 98
Age:
30
Occupation:
Owner of the Diner
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Nov 6, 2024 20:04:23 GMT
|
Post by KACE CLARKE on Sept 15, 2022 17:48:57 GMT
If they weren’t innocent, then there was an excuse. He hadn’t lingered around a prison for six months without hearing all of it. Zoning out might’ve made it easier, but it would’ve meant taking his eyes off of Kit in the worst place possible for him. Kit would’ve argued at that - he’d asked for more time behind bars - but it would’ve been bullshit. Guys who’d been shattered by war, guys who truly hadn’t known what they were doing when they’d picked up the blade or swung the knife, didn’t deserve to be in there. He might’ve ended up sounding like some SJW about dealing with the mental health of people who’d served, but fucking profesional help was what they needed, not some six by eight cell and yard time spent trying to avoid guys who would grab that blade for shits and giggles.
A month in he could spot them. Sitting there feet from Kit, Kace had watched out for his brother from the other side of a veil still too thick for him to tear through. Wary eyes lighting on the twitchy guys whose stories of fucked up evidence and cops with agendas rang wrong as a cracked bell. These were the sort of guys who deserved a life behind bars, the ones who enjoyed carving chunks out of people’s lives.
Seeing the box on Mikey’s application that rubber stamped him as a convicted criminal had twisted Kace’s gut up. Which side did he fall on? Innocent, excusable, fucking soulless monster. Trying to get a job might’ve just been a box ticking exercise to keep a probation officer happy, but it hadn’t felt that way. Those guys probably wouldn’t have given a shit about coming in to talk about it. Not when a ‘sorry dawg, that don’t work for me’ would cut off any real chance of ending up having to serve people shit.
Fuck, maybe that box was what had him calling the guy in anyway. Chances were there were no echoes of Kit to this, but if… Kit maybe woulda told him he had no obligation to play saviour to some jailbird asshole here - nothing to make up for - and woulda been wrong. Guilt over what happened went both ways. Only one fucking moron had turned his bedroom into a shooting gallery when there was a guy twitchy with PTSD sleeping ten feet away. That guilt had kept him tied to Kit through the worst of the aftermath, lingering long enough that Cassie had a chance to drag him back through that veil. He wasn’t tossing that second chance away on the chance that maybe this guy was gonna clean out the cash register and bolt.
His pants weren’t hanging six inches off of his ass at least. Kace looked him over as the door opened, blue eyes flicking down the line of the dark shirt to the jeans and back up, lingering not more than a fraction of a second longer than they would’ve done if it’d been some short, hairy asshole with ratty Calvin Kleins filling the gap between waistband and ratty hem. Kace shook Mikey’s hand, setting the cigarette down in the repurposed coffee cup lid on the table. ”You sure? We’re not the Grill, but there’s beer, a shitty white and red too … unless you’re in AA or somethin’?” Tactful as hell, but he wasn’t gonna tip toe around with a guy who’d maybe appreciate cutting this whole thing down to the basics.
Smoke drifted up from the cigarette in thin lines as Kace pushed himself up from the table. He slipped around to the back of the diner counter, filling a glass with water, then snagging a bottle for himself out of the chiller. Taking it easy might’ve been a wise move, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t shit to be boiled out of his head still, the lingering weight of dying and coming back to life leaving trash piled deep in hsi brain. ”You mind?” He gestured with the neck of the bottle to the cigarette he’d left burning. ”I’m not gonna turn this into some sort of interrogation for a job where you’re probably not gonnd do much more than grill up some burgers and eggs. You do much of that before … in the joint?” There was the elephant in the room, sat between them on the table now, looking at both of them through the bars. The joint, the place the pair of them had suffered through in their own ways.
|
|
MIKEY BUCKLEY
Kanima
Posts: 143
Age:
41
Occupation:
Line Cook
Status:
In a Relationship
Partner:
Mab Carmello
Played by:
Jodi
Broken isn’t the same as unfixable
Last seen Nov 12, 2024 16:41:49 GMT
|
Post by MIKEY BUCKLEY on Oct 7, 2022 9:55:11 GMT
Some people were given second chances. Hell, some people were given third, fourth and even fifth chances when they fucked up. Mikey felt he had yet to be given a second chance in life. The cops didn’t give him a slap on the wrist for what he did. They locked him up for twenty years. The rest of his teenage years and young adult years were taken away from him. He wasn’t expecting a slap on the wrist when he was taken into the police station, but he didn’t expect the judge to come down so hard on him. He cooperated from the outset and they filled his head with lies, telling him it was his first offence so everything would be okay. He would be expected to serve some time, but nothing major. He was a kid, with adults telling him what's what, so naturally, he believed them. Maybe this was his second chance though. A job working in a diner as a line cook. It wasn’t the second chance he was expecting, but it was better than nothing, so long as he didn’t fuck up the interview. Although within the first few seconds he realised this wasn’t much of an interview. Kace didn’t sit him down and ask Mikey where he saw himself in five years' time or what had driven him to apply for the job. No bullshit, straight to the point. Of course Mikey didn’t have a lifelong dream to work in a diner and this was all he ever wanted. A smile twitched on Mikey’s face when Kace mentioned AA. It was one way of getting straight to the point. Was he about to hire a former alcoholic who was itching to drink the bar dry? “Nah I ain’t in AA or anythin’ like that… no history of addiction.” One of the few green ticks next to his name. He wasn’t the type of man you’d find wasted at the bar on a Monday afternoon at 3pm, trying to find happiness in the bottom of a beer bottle. Maybe if it wasn’t for his curse he could have taken that path. Ordering water set a good impression, right? There had been countless workshops Mikey had attended in the lead-up to his release. One of them showed him how to write a resume and the teacher spoke to them all like children, explaining what a bullet point was and how to use paragraphs. Then he was thrown into workshops like ‘How to ace your first job interview.’ It was painful, but sometimes it beat sitting inside his cell, alone. As he sat there waiting for Kace to return he tried to recall what he was told in those workshops, but his mind drew a blank. All he could remember was the young blonde woman who ran the sessions. Typical.
“Cheers.” He reached forward for the glass of water, taking a small sip as Kace sat back down across from Mikey. “Nah. It’s good.” He’d spent two decades surrounded by heavy smokers. The smell barely fazed him. “I worked in the prison kitchen for five years or so before I was released so I know my way around the place… I can flip a burger and cook an egg any way you like.” Was he going to be the first to say it? Address the fact he had been inside and exactly why he had been locked up for so long. Fuck, what did the blonde woman say in the workshop? They went through this at some point. Be open and honest? Sounded like something that would come out of a workshop like that. “Anythin’ you wanna know about my time inside, just ask… but I can assure you I ain’t that person anymore.” Was that the right thing to say? Fuck. KACE CLARKE |
|
KACE CLARKE
Werewolf
untriggered
Posts: 98
Age:
30
Occupation:
Owner of the Diner
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Nov 6, 2024 20:04:23 GMT
|
Post by KACE CLARKE on Nov 4, 2022 17:52:36 GMT
The movies hadn’t bullshitted about how much stuff went down behind bars. It wasn’t guys sitting behind bars, hands folded in their laps, patiently waiting for news to come down from above that they were rehabilitated enough to be set free - OK, maybe Kit bucked that trend, but the rest sure as hell didn’t. Booze and things were passed around probably as easy in there as they were on the outside, easing the pain of being behind bars by getting you off of your head. The handful of do-gooders in there tried, preaching the word of the lord in a way he’d tried to block out - it was hard to listen to when you’d literally avoided a trip to Heaven - trying to teach the guys who’d been given a life sentence for stabbing a guy for his sneakers how to live a good life. Even on the other side Kace had found it laughable.
Once Kit had gotten out and had started down that slide again it hadn’t seemed like so much bullshit. Was he gonna sit in a church hall somewhere and take lessons from a gallon a day drinker who’d tanked his marriage cause he couldn’t let go of the bottle? Hell no. Would he have judged Kit for trying it out? Nah. If you needed that crutch, grab it, he just wasn’t about to.
Maybe he was kinda glad that he wasn’t about to shove a steak under a dying man’s nose by pouring himself a glass though. There was enough shit to feel guilty about already. Kace levered himself up from the table, grunting faintly at Mikey’s response. ”Wouldn’t matter if you were - as long as you’re straight now. I’m not judgin’.” Not on any of it. You started throwing stones at glass houses and they were likely to come back, cracking your head as they flew in. It didn’t matter if you were a saint or not, they still hit as hard when they’d been tossed out on sanctimony. Kace huffed a breath out through his nose as he picked up the water - he was no fucking saint to start with.
To end up in jail you couldn’t be one - even if you were one of those rare fucking guys who’d been wrongly convicted, something had to have put you on the radar in the first place. Maybe Mikey wasn’t the sort to spill his story, he wasn’t expecting him to anyway. Length of time inside? Unimportant. Could he cook a burger without burning the shit out of it? Freaking vital.
Five years at least then. Kace’s gaze flicked up to Mikey’s as he sipped at his water. A small fact. Enough. He huffed out a breath, licking the foam from his lower lip. ”I’d say you wanna do a test, but I’m not that big an asshole. This ain’t exactly the Savoy.” And, fuck, he was no Gordon Ramsey. ”I’m not expecting michelin starred cuisine.” Probably couldn’t have tasted any difference even if it was. Kamilla had always gone all out for her events - caterers bringing in platters of stuff that they’d probably made for ten cents on the fifty bucks they’d charged per tray of canapes. He’d dutifully eaten in, glad it wasn’t his mom’s cooking he was necking, but the subtleties of it were lost on him.
Kace drew hard on the cigarette, staring at Mikey through the smoke as he let it out. An open invitation to probe the guy’s life was tempting, but in the grand scheme of things what the fuck did it really matter? There wasn’t much chance of rebuilding your life if people were constantly throwing your worst moments at you. He’d derailed enough conversations with Kit that way since he’d come back, mean little reminders that cut his brother almost as deeply as Kit had cut him. ”Was it for anything that’d fuck you over for this?” he asked finally, like it was the only salient point. ”Robbery?” It’d be a pretty shitty choice of a place to scope out if it was, it wasn’t like they were hauling in millions. ”The offer goes both ways. You got any questions about me? About the job? Just ask.” He guessed he was an open book, at least as far as the bounds of sanity would let it go - ‘this is my fresh start too, only I was dead for a couple of years first, wild huh?’.
|
|
MIKEY BUCKLEY
Kanima
Posts: 143
Age:
41
Occupation:
Line Cook
Status:
In a Relationship
Partner:
Mab Carmello
Played by:
Jodi
Broken isn’t the same as unfixable
Last seen Nov 12, 2024 16:41:49 GMT
|
Post by MIKEY BUCKLEY on Nov 21, 2022 20:21:36 GMT
Some people just cut through the bullshit and asked the questions they wanted to know the answer to. There was no dressing them or tip toeing around them. Mikey had time for those sorts of people, to an extent. On the inside some men jumped straight in at the personal questions without a second thought. Asking what family you had on the outside, what crime you’d committed, whether you’d do it again. Those types of questions Mikey would answer coyly. He didn’t trust the other inmates, even the nicest ones. Everyone had their price and if named they would sell Mikey down the river. It was a sad life to lead. It was a relief to have all that lifted off his shoulders. He held his hands up briefly. “I’m straight now, don’t worry.” There had been certain paths Mikey had never ventured down, namely those containing narcotics. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t tempting when someone offered him something to take him to another realm. A place where prison didn’t exist and he was a free man, but he knew once he jumped on board that bus he was on it for the long haul. Evidence of the effects surrounded him every day in prison. It wasn’t pretty. He’d already fucked up enough without throwing himself in even deeper. If Kace wanted to do all he had to do was punch Mikey’s name into a search engine and he would have all the answers to his burning questions. Just like Roxxi did and maybe Mab did too. He still didn’t wholly understand why Roxxi searched his name in the first place. Thankfully Kace wasn’t expecting Mikey to throw an apron on there and then and flip a few burgers. “The other inmates never complained about my cookin’ and they’re a tough bunch to impress.” If the potatoes were undercooked someone would have launched them over the counter whilst screaming nonsense at him. Sometimes it happened, but usually when the menu didn’t consist of the food they wanted. They had been a few times where Mikey had ended up wearing what he’d cooked up. Tension started to build up again when Kace asked about what he’d been locked up for then he asked if it was robbery, hitting the nail on the head. Sort of. “Yeah… it was a long time ago though. Over twenty years.” In other words he was a stupid child when it happened. He wanted to add more, tell Kace that he wasn’t going to steal from the till when Kace’s back was turned, but sometimes less was better. “None that I can think of… well, actually, when do you think you’ll get back to me? Y’know about the job and stuff.” There could have been a long line of people queuing up for this position and if he guessed none of them had a criminal record or if they did it was something minor, not robbery. KACE CLARKE - wanna wrap up with yours? |
|
KACE CLARKE
Werewolf
untriggered
Posts: 98
Age:
30
Occupation:
Owner of the Diner
Status:
Single
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Nov 6, 2024 20:04:23 GMT
|
Post by KACE CLARKE on Dec 10, 2022 20:09:56 GMT
Gut instinct wasn’t everything – although Kit and Frank probably would’ve argued that half the time. In their line of work it was, even if it didn’t stop you from getting blown up in some shithole of a place. You learned to trust it, you developed it. Kace had developed his own just far enough to realise he’d fucked up right at the moment the blade had penetrated his chest. If it would’ve been a rip tearing up the surf or some fight about to kick off in Bodhi’s, he’d have been all over it, but with his own brother it’d failed him. Now he was watching as Mikey threw his hands up, wondering just how far it’d get him this time. His gut and every other sign he’d got from the guy so far said to go for it.
Werewolves apparently had some sorta bullshit metre – Katja had explained that one when asking Kit outright might’ve kicked off the sort of trouble that would’ve had his brother breaking down on the kitchen floor again. They could sniff out emotions when they focused on it, human bloodhounds with a nose for lies. If this gene had come from their dad and he’d triggered it, they’d have been screwed. If it was Kamilla? The thought, fleeting as it was, almost had Kace laughing out loud. Kamilla hadn’t given a damn what they’d been doing, as long they weren’t under her feet, or doing anything that would drag her name through the mud – AKA, do your embarrassing shit without the cameras on you. If Kit was here, all frowny and serious, maybe he’d have been able to provide the final nod on whether or not his gut instinct about Mikey telling the truth about being done with whatever had got him in shit in the first place, but he wasn’t and his little brother was still one hundred percent human. And about as close to a hundred percent sure as he could get.
Kace nodded, making his way back behind the counter to get them drinks. ”No worries,” he confirmed. Other than whether or not this guy could cook up a burger without burning it to shit. It would’ve been an easy enough test, if he wanted to go through the whole fucking pageantry of it. The patty laid out on a plate, everything you could possibly need to make a semi-decent burger scattered around it. Ten minutes on the clock and the guy who was going to give you the nod on the job or not hovering. Ridiculous for a place like this – especially when the new owner was no gourmet himself. If the food was a little shitty for a couple of weeks the customers weren’t exactly gonna go running from the place.
Was he gonna take the word of an ex-con about other convicts? The laugh rolled out of Kace before he could really consider it, his index finger twitching in Mikey’s direction. ”I guess if Big Bob in cell 23 says it’s good, then a Michelin star means nothin’, right?” He’d never heard Kit bitch about it too hard, although considering what MREs were meant to be like one plate of shit on a shingle wasn’t that different to another. Kace was willing to bet it would’ve tasted like the nectar of the Gods if he’d actually been allowed a taste. You started to forget what it was all like when you couldn’t put any of it in your mouth. The shitty eggs Frank had put in front of him after had felt like a damn feast, they could’ve been seasoned with sawdust and he wouldn’t have complained a bit.
Now it felt like he had chewed on the stuff, his mouth going gritty as he finally shone the light on the big damn elephant sitting in the corner of the room. What had Mikey gone in for? It shouldn’t have mattered, but when there were no other sticking points to any of this he had to know if this was gonna come back and bite him on the ass. Blue eyes dropped away from Mikey, back to the glowing tip of the cigarette when he admitted it was robbery. Twenty years was a long fucking time to be locked up for it, but the court system rarely made sense. Kace nodded, rolling the possibilities around his mouth like a ball of gum. Was there a chance the leopard hadn’t changed it’s spots? Sure, but how the hell would you know if you didn’t give it a chance to prove it?
His lips curled faintly as he stubbed his cigarette out against the box – he wasn’t about to scar up the table in his new place. Kace lifted his chin at Mikey. ”How ‘bout now? I’m not gonna dick around about this. You’ve got the job if you want it. 8 hour days for a full time wage, overtime’s paid double.” He coulda stretched the hours out, cut the money saying it was all probationary, but there wasn’t much point. He ran his tongue over the inside of his lower lip. ”I work on the three strike rule, unless you really try and fuck me over at any point and then all bets are off. Start tomorrow, 8am.” He was pretty sure Frank wouldn’t mind him borrowing his computer for a half hour later to write up an actual contract – he wasn’t about to fuck his employees over. Kace set his glass of water aside to offer Mikey his hand to shake on it for now. Well, it looked like he had himself his first employee.
|
|
hope to see you in the discord! 
