It Was Getting To Be A Lot, Especially With What Transpired From The Events Concerning The Drive-In.

I saw somebody. Maybe it was your fairy godfather.

Of course, not everyone was fully aware he had returned. It wasn't like he was trying to broadcast it, either. It was already a problem enough to explain to those he absolutely had to, about his absence, and then return. Without actually having to tell them what it was about. The current goings-on were a graceful distraction from all of that, however. People were more interested in their fun than in asking why he was away so long, what he was doing, and why people thought he might be dead. Clearly, he wasn't dead, but maybe he contemplated it at this point. Sweat coated as he stepped into the bar, looking somewhat sickly but quite presentable. All he had to do was tell himself he was fine, and the mental fortitude he was forcing on himself did the rest of the work. Moving to take a seat as he saw a familiar head in front of him, he grinned at the exclamation. Then, reaching over, he playfully pinched Faye's cheek, gently, before pulling his hand away from her face.

Then flagged down the bartender currently working, thankful it wasn't Cyrek. He supposed the other might be out having fun, or something he didn't want to think about at the moment. Maybe if he were lucky, the other might be face down in a ditch, and out of his hair. Okay, perhaps that was undeserved. He didn't wish anything too awful to happen to his…acquaintance. But, lately, his former irritation with the other seemed to reignite itself, with the other's previous actions perhaps being a little more unresolved for him than he previously thought. Azazel turned to properly face Faye, then said, “Did you miss me?” He asked as his drink, the usual he ordered, was placed in front of him, “Finally, some good liquor.” He muttered, gulping down the whole shot. Toying with the glass, he winces a bit, then continues, “Surprised you didn't see me before now, what have you been doing?”

event: weekend of horrors

location & date: the mean eyed-cat bar, april 21st, 1996 @ 9pm

closed starter: @withoutmonsterswebecomethem

a rather large throng of individuals occupied the mean-eyed cat bar this particular evening, but as expected, in blatant honesty. after all, it was the weekend of horrors, indicating the turnout consisted of a variety of characters and personalities, far and wide in between. some were dressed clad in cartoon themed attire, a group of young men donning each of the teenage mutant ninja turtles while some sported a flared out collar and a mimicked dribble of blood trailing from the corner of their lips. bringing the corner of her shot glass up to down the contents of vodka, faye couldn't help but to smoothly chuckle to herself upon the keen observance. oh, the irony. lips twist up to form a soured expression after the thick liquid cascaded down her throat, a brief shake of her head triggering corkscrew coils to fly about as though the action itself would aid in minimizing the alcohol's strength. but that wasn't the point at all, she was here for a purpose and that was to become under the influence. luckily for faye, her heightened sensitivities would allow that to take place quite easily. slamming the glassware down onto the mahogany surface, her thoughts come to a pause once she notices a familiar form settling down beside her, bambi like eyes widening by just the smallest fraction before she exclaimed, "pinch me!" talk about seeing a ghost.

Every single time

Hence my circle so small

@ghxstadventvres

Lighting up a cigarette, Azazel takes a few puffs from it as he lets the end burn for a moment in the flame before cutting the flame off and tucking the lighter back into a pocket. He was currently standing outside the gas station, not a fan of driving, he usually walked around wherever he went. Which he wasn't much of a fan of that either, here lately.

Taking a long drag off his cigarette before he casually moved his hand away to adjust his sunglasses, hiding as much as he could, the dark circles that currently made him look like he hadn't slept in a century or more. Exhaling as he toyed with his glasses, smoke loomed over his head. Securing them more onto his face as he scanned the area. He had no real destination, he didn't even like being out like this, in the open. But it was the middle of the day, so he figured that the worst that could happen at this time was-- Okay, well, a lot of things, yes.

But he imagined that most of those things he'd manage to survive long enough to get home before night hit. But even then, he didn't think he was safe. His breathing picked up for a moment, and he had to calm down. Closing his eyes, he told himself it was all just in his head, and he was overreacting to his own imagination. Yes. That was all it was. Or all he wanted to believe.

Checking his watch, he started to walk away from the gas station, only to get a cold chill up his spine. Turning, he looked around, not seeing anyone even looking at him. Though, a few people were walking to or from their cars. Maybe he should start driving again, it was too nerve-racking to be out in the open like this. Even still, he couldn't help but to feel like someone was watching him. But he felt like that a lot lately.

Hearing the little voice, Azazel paused in his stride, turning his head, he looked down, cold brown eyes staring down intensely at the small child as she spoke up to him, wondering why she was out here at a place like this, alone. Instantly, that coldness melted as he was reminded of his own son, of similar age, he supposed, to this little girl. He glances away then, playfully, “Oh I just might!” Expressively, he brought a hand to his chin, his index, and thumb forming into a check mark-like form under it, “Well Marceline, as an artist myself, how could I say 'no' to such a polite request?” Bringing his free, left hand, to his hip, he moved his right hand from his face, only to stop playing the moment Lyonet came stumbling out.

His coldness returned as the girl's mother came out, “It was nothing. She wasn't bothering me.” He replied to the girl's mother, leaning his hip more into his left hand, slouching slightly as he huffed out a slightly amused breath as Lyonet called the little girl a custodian, “Oh.” Azazel mumbled. After Lyonet told him it was just a joke, he quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn't tell.” He remarked with the smallest trace of a sarcastic tone in his voice. Azazel turned his head away, staring elsewhere for the moment as the other went on, “Alright, then, what can you help me with while you're stuck in business limbo?” He asked before looking back to Lyonet once again, before pausing to think for a moment, “Not really much for community service, actually.”

But, letting out a breath, he realized he needed to distract himself, anyway. Staring at Lyonet, he knocked his head toward her, prompting her a bit with a, “What kind of stuff are you guys still needing help with?”

@boneyardstarters lyonet + ??? : april 10, skratch records @ mid-morning cap : ∞

mix-ups with mars' school schedule typically didn't result in this kind of catastrophe. alas, there lyonet was, harboring her seven year old on the front steps of her workplace, all because she had neglected to remember it was a fucking teacher work day. she had resumed her pesky habit of inhaling snow every weekend, and prior to that she was relatively adept at arranging comfortable boarding for her daughter. however, that was before she swore reina to secrecy upon her relapse being unveiled and very callously reminded the kitchen witch exactly how fortunate she was to be entrusted with mars' care: 'at least i still have custody of my kid' may or may not have been uttered; which, of course, was enough guilt that would stick with reina for the remainder of her natural life. digressing, it was far too late in the day for lyonet to unload mars unto her older sister, so, the little girl was now a temporary employee of skratch records. at least, the bare bones of it. while lyonet idled inside and hid from the major renovations, mars manned the front curb. it didn't occur to lyonet that her very outspoken child would attempt contact with a wandering stranger until she heard her daughter's squeaky little voice say: hi, i'm marceline! but everyone calls me mars, or marcie, or mar. we're not open yet. do you want to help paint? quickly, lyonet stumbled off the step stool she was on while clumsily painting and scrambled out front, converse skidding on the concrete. "alright, miss mars," she cleared her throat loudly as she plucked her daughter up off the ground. "sorry about that. she's just our custodian," she joked halfheartedly. "that was a joke. kind of. can we help ya with something? we're, uh, not quite off the ground yet, but... we've got fresh lemonade if you wanna help out."

With his eyes barely opened, he looked at the other as she spoke after clearing her throat. Azazel exhaled before opening his eyes and darting them around the space around them, sure he wouldn't get any sleep now. Tucking a hand under his head, he pressed it against his backpack he had tucked under his head, and listened to the other, closing his eyes for a moment more before starting to push himself up. Sitting, he slouched, before bending at his waist, bringing his right hand to rub his right eye, a yawn leaving him as the request penetrated his ears. He should say 'no', he didn't know her, it would have made sense.

But as he looked up at her again, he got a slight sense of the little sloth, even if just in part. Resting his head in his right hand, he mustered up a grin, trying to rest his right elbow against his right leg, but that only made everything more uncomfortable. So, instead, he sat up straight again, leaning against the back of the bench he had come to rest on. It was a strange request. But he supposed he could entertain it, or a little while, even if his paranoid mind was lighting up with all sorts of red flags. It did that regardless, making it hard to focus on the real ones, from the ones he might be gaslighting himself with.

Regardless, Azazel took a deep breath, rubbing his hands for a moment against his thighs and then forced a grin, trying to hide how nervous he was deep down, “Sure! Why not? You're not wrong, I suppose-” Pausing, he looked around, regardless of his internal thoughts, it was still true, it was lonely in the crowd. He had known this better than he would like to admit, being alone in a crowded room, having been a place he resided often. Taking his backpack, he stood and pulled the straps over his shoulders, patting the bottom of the pack, adjusting the contents inside. Then he moved his hand quickly out in front of him, gesturing for the other to lead the way.

marisol had always loved halloween. the spookiness, the fun tricks. at westbeth, they used to have trick or treating, but musical. where you had to hum a tune in order to get candy. this wasn’t westbeth, but it was her new home. Browsing the stalls, she found a few trinkets that caught her eye, that she picked up along the way. after a while, though, she felt loneliness creeping up inside her, and she knew she couldn’t brave this alone.. coming to a bench, she noticed someone sleeping, and quietly cleared her throat. “not to interrupt your rest,” she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head, “but i was wondering if you wanted to hang out, together? it’s kind of lonely being out here alone, surrounded by people. i get that's kind of an oxymoron, but, hang out with me? please?" wow, way to sound desperate, solly.

Avan Jogia photographed by Raul Romo for Grumpy Spring 2023

Diverting his gaze, of course, not wanting to give her much reason to try and assess what may or may not have been going on with him these days. Though the sunglasses, despite being inside, stayed on his face. He still had dark circles and wasn't feeling his best. At her smile, he listened to Faye as she replied to him. Nodding his head a little along with her words, and laughing lightly at her return pinching gesture. Waving his right hand playfully, he says, “No reason to. Really. Nothing to be concerned about.” Azazel wouldn't say that was the truth, of course. But he couldn't remember all too well what had happened, perhaps he was even, he imagined, suppressing it.

Watching her drink down her shot, he lifted his left hand up to his face, resting his head in it as he leaned onto the bar top. He just wanted this. A return to normal, though, how much it did for his current abundance of nervousness and paranoid-things, like thoughts, sounds, sights. Waving his right hand as the bartender came back, he got another shot. Then turned his head, adjusting it slightly, “What? Can't a guy just go no contact for a bit?” Pausing, his brows knit together briefly, before he put on a smile, “You could say it's been about the same for me. Busy. Like a little bee.” Clearing his throat then he reached his hand out as his drink was placed in front of him. Staring at it for some time, “Just got to get back into the usual motions, ugh. Vacations over.” 

Lifting the glass, he tilted his head back as he brought it to his lips, downing the shot. Then gently placed it back on the bar top and, turning his head to look around. After tonight, things were not seeming right. He swallowed, then asked, “Been a weird night, huh?” Just to keep the conversation more present, though he knocked his head a little, “Guess this whole fest is always a little weird, though, you know? I remember coming out as a teenager, it used to have some unusual things to buy. A lot of aliens. But then, what do you expect? It's Nevada.”

a far more genuine chortle of laughter tumbles its way from between plump lips as Faye registers Azazel's response, the prolonged absence of companionship threatening to sink its way back into a sense of familiarity for her. having wondered about the man's abrupt leave for so long - pondering over what if's and what happened's - it was quite difficult to not miss him to a certain extent. of course, the ample time to linger over an acquaintance's hidden whereabouts would be drastically dwindled down after being swept up into more tasks for The Cactus Cats, or assisting in rearranging the haunted museum. to put it more simply, Faye was a busy, busy woman with heaps of responsibilities on her plate -- an aspect she wasn't necessarily in opposition to considering it made her feel like she truly discovered a place she could call home. but lately though? she deemed herself to be grateful for the minute relief now that the Weekend of Horrors event was swinging in full effect throughout Vegas, Stella and Cyrek long before then having been swamped with obligations of getting their records shop officially up and running for business aside from other duties.

pearly whites on display, the petite woman retaliated, "paint me just a tad bit concerned." dainty hands playfully feigning coolness as she brought her index finger and thumb close together to mimic a pinch gesture, afterwards quickly beckoning to the bartender on shift for another shot to be filled with her preferred vodka. directing her attention back towards the dark haired individual, her gaze scanned over the being perched next to her. it wasn't every day you went from often greeting a neighbor to noticing and growing accustomed to their mysterious departure, and he didn't seem to especially exude the indication of wanting to delve into the subject, so she'd leave matters well enough alone. grasping the same glassware to consume the clear booze within it, Faye swiftly tossed the tiny cup back before bringing it back to the wooden surface with a resounding 'thud.' raising her hand up to swipe the excess liquid away from a corner of her mouth, she replied, "and here i thought i had a knack for falling off the face of the Earth. i've been peachy - keeping busy, per usual - better now that my drinking buddy is back in town, and you?" God knows she wasn't going to prod, but if he was willing to open up to her as previous drunken sessions demonstrated, then who was she to turn away from him?