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Post by Administrator on Dec 6, 2011 15:47:41 GMT -5
Need to warm up? Grab a seat about the warm fire!
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Post by Bridgette O'Malley on Dec 13, 2011 22:17:44 GMT -5
Bridgette ran her fingers over the bridge of her nose as she took a breath, and a time out. Narrowing her eyes just a bit, as she let her fingers warm by the fire. She had some time alone since the rush had dispersed, too early in the day to have a real crowd and the need for her to be doing much. On a sigh her eyes closed and she leaned back into the chair that she'd occupied. She had tea, to warm her bones and calm her mind but she was taking a moment to gather herself. Her brother was gone, she was almost entirely alone in the world. She had Shan, the sister of her heart, but that didn't mean she didn't go home to the flat she'd shared with Sean and cry. Now she didn't know how she was going to keep it.
Taking a sip of her tea she sighed and let her head fall back again, she was in enough pain. But she didn't let it show when someone called her name. An actress of the highest regard her smile was bright and she talked to the person with ease. Almost as if she wasn't hurting so much. Almost as if she wasn't in so much gut wrenching pain. Styx made it easier, he'd showed up after she found out-- stayed with her as she cried over a loss she wasn't prepared for. Held her when she couldn't sleep, the man did so much for her and rarely asked for much in return. Feed me, had been the only one and she'd done so happily.
Now she was trying to get by, the smile fell as soon as the acquaintance was gone, her eyes turning back to the fire. She missed music and life, dancing-- oh did she miss dancing. She'd danced around the pub more than once with Seany. Now she knew she'd never hear his voice again, get angry at him for being messy, hug him-- sing with him. No more Seany boy. "Bloody hell," she murmured as she curled up closer. The pain like a fist in the stomach, she shouldn't have sat alone. When she was alone she thought about thing she couldn't change.
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Post by Pallet O'Shea on Dec 13, 2011 23:09:38 GMT -5
Pallet walked through the front door of McGinty's pub, looking up as the overhead bell chimed. She sighed deeply as she released the door allowing it to close, and looked around. The place was pretty much empty save a drunkard leering at her from the counter and a blonde girl by the fireplace. She opted to sit as far from the leering man as possible and took a seat close to the blonde, near the fire.
After sitting a minute or two waiting for a barmaid or bartender to take her drink order, Pallet glanced over at the blonde and realized she actually knew her. Bridgette was her name, wasn't it? Yeah, Bridgette O'Malley; the sister of the man they had found in the Hudson--and Styx's friend. The same friend he had been spending most of his time with...
Pallet tried to temper her jealously by remembering how she would want someone to be with her in her time of need, like Styx was for Bridgette. If she ever lost Aodyn--or even Jackson--she would be practically inconsolable. She definitely wouldn't be able to work like this girl was.
Hearing the barely audible curse, Pallet stood up and warily sat down in a chair beside Bridgette. She wasn't quite sure what to say to this girl because the last time they met, Pallet had made a fool of herself, so she wasn't sure how receptive Bridgette would be to conversation with her. Plus, the girl intimidated her just a little bit. So, she waited for Bridgette to take notice of her presence...
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Post by Bridgette O'Malley on Dec 14, 2011 0:05:48 GMT -5
Bridgette didn't acknowledge the woman at first, ignored her for the most part, it wasn't until she realized that the girl wasn't leaving that she raised her head and looked at her. Oh, what was her name? Didn't Styx call her Pallet? Her eyes settled on her a moment before she adjusted herself and her skirts. "Well now, I'm sorry, would ya like some tea?" her brow raised. "Or somethin' a the like? I--" she brushed her fingers under her eyes quickly as she stood up, adjusting her skirts and trying her best to put the smile on her face. "I was takin a break but Shan's off taday so I can get ya somethin."
Her smile was bright but didn't reach her eyes, it was work, plain and simple. But she was a soft heart, and she turned towards the bar before coming back with her little tea pot and a cup for Pallet. "Here, it's not earl gray but it'll warm yer bones almost as good as a shot a whiskey might." Her mind off of her life she sat down and took her own cup again, setting it in her hand. She was on break but she really didn't mind sharing. Not really. The blond got comfortable, pulling her knees more onto the chair and her feet deeper into her petticoats.
"Afraid I'm not very good company right now." Styx knew that, she'd told him that and he still came around. Made her laugh through her tears, even when she knew that he was trying to get her to smile again. Drag her around to make her dance and do silly things. That was really what she needed-- he knew her. Maybe she'd get him to play for her again when she saw him later. "How are ya? Pallet aye? What's yer christian name?"
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Post by Pallet O'Shea on Jan 10, 2012 16:18:21 GMT -5
“Thanks,” Pallet smiled and took the cup of tea, and took a sip of it. It’d been a while since she actually had a mind for tea; usually it was a glass of water, a beer, or something a little harder. Her last encounter with Bridgette didn’t go so well when she had some liquor, so tea was probably a good idea anyways. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself all over again.
Pallet set her tea cup on the side table beside her chair. “Yeah, Pallet… Me family back in Ireland called me Ashleigh; Ashleigh O’Shea… Yer Bridgette right? Styx’s friend…?” She tucked her legs underneath her. “How are you fairing? You looked like you could use some company.”
Pallet shot her a small smile, but hoped that Bridgette didn’t think she was trying to pry into the girl’s personal business. She was the kind of person who liked to be there for people, if they needed someone to talk to. Knowing how people from Brooklyn were, she most likely wouldn’t want to talk—especially since Pallet was practically a stranger—but she’d be there just in case. She knew how it felt to loose a family member; the sound of the gunshots that killed her father and the image of her father’s bloody body was burned into her memory forever…
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