|  Author | Topic: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYONE?) (Read 94 times) |
Tamsin [Olly]
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|  | Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYONE?)
« Thread Started on Oct 26, 2009, 10:19am » | |
Olly had never owned a house. Though he’d often thought about how nice it would be to have two floors, rather than the usual one, he’d never had the time, energy or money to afford one. So he was stuck in his stodgy, three-room apartment. Well, it was quite nice. It was warm, it was easy to get to, it was near all the local fast food venues- . . no, no, he didn’t mean that. He meant. . near. . . the highstreet. Yeah. That had been what he’d meant.
The pudgy bloke was sat on his sofa, reading over the files that told him his rent for this month. Blah. The idiot who’d invented rent, Olly did not like. Not at all. Delicately, his fingers flicked over the page to read the second, letting out his breath in a ‘shhhhhhhhhhh’ noise through his teeth as he saw the final total. Blimey. He’d need to go overtime a bit to cover that. Sitting up straighter and putting down the papers, he got to his feet. Right then. Lunchtime.
After changing – he’d only been in a too-small vest top and too-big shorts before – he grabbed his hoodie and tugged it on, making his way out of the apartment and into the street. Boston at midday. Busy, busy, busy.
He half-jogged his way towards a McDonald’s, weaving through the crowds and muttering the occasional ‘sorry’ to folk he bumped into, and stopped when he reached the building. Fatty ordered a burger with fries and a regular drink of Sprite and wandered outside. After plopping down onto a bench, he began to nibble the fries, a bored expression passing over his face. Hngh. Today was turning out to be boring as hell. Nothing he could do about it, either. With a sigh, he leant back against the bench, looking up at the sky. He didn’t like sitting inside fast food places. It was always so dingy and stuffy. There was a nice breeze out today, too.
Picking up the burger, he bit into it, chewed exactly twenty times, and swallowed. Ah, this stuff would be the death of him, he was sure. Nevermind. At least he’d die happy.
Folding one arm over the other over that unflattering potbelly of his, he rested his head back, using his hood as a sort of pillow, and closed his eyes. He had no idea why he was so tired. It was hardly down to exercise. Probably stress. But the fast food made it aaaall better. For now.
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|OLLY| |
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Courtney
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #1 on Oct 26, 2009, 8:16pm » | |
Rowan stood leaning against the fast food joint. All the friendly people and little kids in the play area, it's not exactly where you'd expect to see a grungy man in his thirties with clothes that a homeless man would refuse. Nevertheless, he stood there with beer bottle not-so-discreetly hidden in a black bag. Every minute or so he'd lift the bottle to his lips, now lukewarm liquid sloshing around inside, and let the amber fluid trickle down his throat. God he'd needed a drink bad today.
He barely even remember last night. On the more and more frequent occasion, Rowan had consumed more than he could handle while staying sober. It wasn't that he was really drinking that much more than he had when he was 19, but his body wasn't as young as it once was and he would have to start facing that. All he could remember was a couple [or dozen] brewskies, a fight, which explained the black eye hidden behind the sheap sunglasses he had bought this morning, and a strange incident with a hooker which had left him out three-hundred dollars. His clothes still smelled faintly of the flowery aroma left by the woman.
A man came out of the McDonald's. He was a stout little man in big-rimmed glasses and balding though he couldn't be any older than Rowan. At first, the were chuckled at him a bit and raised his fist as if to punch him, though it was all an act. The more the manager told Ro he needed to get off of the restraunt's property, the more his light mood was dulled. He contemplated actually punching the guy as he blabbered on but decided it wasn't worth it. Their little dispute had caught the attention of a few unnaproving moms and their wide-eyed children. He got scornful looks as he made his way over to the parking lot.
Rowan watched the ornery little man go inside and then circled around the fast food joint, taking a seat at one of the outside tables. He took another swallow of whiskey [he'd given up on beer at about two this morning, deciding he wasn't getting the buzz he was looking for] and then noticed one of the oddest sights he'd ever seen. What first caught his attention, of course, was the fucking neon mohawk. He raised his glasses, making sure it wasn't some trick his mind was playing on him. But what perplexed him more was the chubbiness of the fellow. Rowan snorted, thankful that the guy was too intent on his food to notice him. Rowan scented the air and realized the guy was a goddam were! This shocked him to the point it wasn't even funny anymore.
The ill-kept man only lingered on this for a moment as his stomach growled. Rowan was one of those people who ate like crazy after a night of partying. He hadn't even had breakfast this morning and he knew that if he didn't eat soon, he'd be grumpy as hell all day... not that he wasn't all the time. He looked in the window of the McDonald's and saw the manager helping a customer close enough to the register he'd be seen if he went in. He rolled his eyes beneath the aviators. He then looked back to the blue-haired were.
After a while of going over other ideas in his head, Rowan concluded that the only option was to go find food elsewhere or ask this sorry-ass son of a bitch for some fries. He stood, regaining his balance within a few seconds, and slowly made his way over to the table the fat kid sat at. He slouched down across from him, nearly falling of the bench doing so, and turned to face him, his elbows on the table. "Can I have some of your food before a fuckin' pass out?" he asked point-blank. Rowan wasn't one to beat around the bushes.
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Rowan |
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Tamsin [Olly]
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FATTY McFATFAT
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #2 on Oct 27, 2009, 5:17pm » | |
Closing his eyes and savouring the taste of his meal, Olly bit into the burger again, only to grimace and pull away. He prised open the burger carefully, not wanting to get the cocktail of different sauces – God only knew what they were – all over his fingers, pulling away the green little devils called gerkins, Damn. They always put them in. Even when he told them not to. Arses. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them, so he just left them on the bench next to him. He was sure birds or foxes or something’d happily make a meal of them.
Hungrily going back to eating, he was cut off, rather rudely once again. But this time not by the foul taste of a gerkin, more rather the foul taste of the voice that grumbled through the air. It made Olly jump out of his skin (if that was even possible, there was so much of it), took him completely by surprise. For a were, Olly’s sense of smell was not nearly as acute as it should have been. The jump left him with his arms an inch or two higher than they had been, therefore pulling up his hoodie and t-shirt a little. He pulled it down, hastily and embarrassedly, not wanting to expose his pitiful belly anymore than he had done already.
He had had no idea that the male had been there. The chubby bloke was even more surprised when the newcomer practically melted over the table, slouching with such clumsiness that Olly didn’t need to smell the alcohol to know that the man was, to say the least, a little on the tipsy side.
Can I have some of your food before a fuckin' pass out?
Olly frowned. Now. Slumping over his bench was one thing, taking his food was another. Olly liked his food, he was rather fond and overprotective of it. His brow furrowed for a moment or two as he took in the other man. He looked. . like a hobo, to be perfectly damn honest. Not even a nice hobo, at that. Another thing that struck Olly was that this man was a wolf. The fat bastard could tell that, now they were in close proximity. Immediately Olly felt a little awkward and submissive. Mr. Trent was hardly a respectable werewolf, and for all he knew, this man could turn out just to be another pushy, trying-to-act-big arsehole. Those were the types of weres Olly usually ran into.
Finally, after hesitation, Olly picked up the food he’d dropped to his side earlier. “D’you like gerkins?” He sounded british, but the slight twang every now and again said ‘no, this man is australian’. He could have been either, but the truth was that he was both. He’d spent equal amounts of time in both countries. Deciding that just giving the man the gerkins would be cruel – the bloke was in such a sorry, drunken state – he pushed over his fries as well.
Blimey. What a sacrifice.
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|OLLY| |
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Tamsin [Olly]
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FATTY McFATFAT
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #3 on Nov 3, 2009, 3:06pm » | |
( Bump for Courtneeeey~ )
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|OLLY| |
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Courtney
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #4 on Nov 3, 2009, 9:22pm » | |
The alcohol had already begun to wear off. He may not have been young enough to get through a case of beers without even getting a buzz anymore, but he was still fairly quick to recover. Of course, with the hangover came the massive headache. A sharp pain shot through his skull, making him forget where he was for a second. Then seeing the fat fellow in front of him, he remembered much of the experience this morning, though last night was still very hazy. Nearly falling back in his daze, the scruffy man grabbed a hold of the table for support. A groan escaped his throat that caused a few heads to turn.
“D’you like gerkins?”
So, he speaks, Rowan thought. The man pushed green, pickle looking things towards him. Being a rather homey fellow who didn't branch out when it came to food, Rowan had never heard of much less tasted whatever this was. He looked up at the man and was about to give him the "are you serious?" look that he had when he shoved the fries at him, too. Rowan snickered at the fact the chubby fella looked so torn between the decision of giving up fries or possibly getting his face pounded in by an unhappy drunk. If he knew Rowan, he would've known that he didn't have to worry about the second option unless he tried to pick a fight.
Another sharp pain coursed through his head and sent waves all the way down his spine. The sudden headache made the were even more hungry. He clenched his teeth and waited for the feeling to pass before finally eating his "meal" two fries at a time. He didn't look up at the other werer the entire time. He ate, trying not to think about the headache or nausea. It disgusted him the junk they served at these places and hadn't had anything more than a coke from here since he was about 18 and still living off cambell's soup with his brother. Boy, that was a fun year. He'd swore never to eat anything fast food again after a few stomach aches but yet here he was, munching on the calorie-filled, grease-covered excuse for fries that one of the leading fast food chains provided to their obese customers. He grinned smugly at the thought.
After finishing the last of the fries and not feeling a bit better than before, he looked up at the blue-haired man. His hairstyle choice didn't exactly match the rest of his features. He wasn't morbidly obese, more chubby than anything which, now that Rowan thought about it, was what many of the world's population today looked like. He was a brit, too... or maybe an aussie? It didn't matter. All he knew was this guy wasn't american, that was for certain. Deciding to learn more, Rowan placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
"So, kid, you got a name?" the older were asked. If the question arose, Ro supposed he'd say his name, too, but he was for more interested in learning information than giving it. Of course, he really wasnt' that interested in either but the manager was walking by and he looked too out of place. Though, he supposed, if he wanted to blend in he shouldn't be hanging out with the fat man with the blue mohawk.
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Rowan |
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Tamsin [Olly]
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #5 on Nov 4, 2009, 11:46am » | |
Keeping a watchful, blue eye on the man - who, Olly noticed, seemed to be recovering from his drunken stupor – he leant back in his seat, quirking one brow, the other furrowing. He was sure he hadn’t seen this guy around anywhere, but he definitely looked homeless. He’d been arguing with the manager earlier, he recalled. Maybe he crashed here when he wasn’t supposed to. Holding in a brisk tut, Olly brought up a hand, running it through his hair again – a nervous habit of his – and sighing.
Whereas Rowan hadn’t eaten fast food in a long time, Olly did, regularly. Once or twice a week, at least. He did prefer home-cooked food, especially as he was a chef-in-training, but it was so time-consuming. The man worked a lot, he didn’t have time to be making stir-fries. Because of this junk food habit, which had lasted a long time, Olly had spent the majority of his life overweight. He’d been fat when he was ten, he’d been fat when he was thirteen, he’d been fat when he was seventeen. . but, for a short period in his eighteens-nineteens age, he’d actually been thin. Even with a bit of muscle. Because, at that time in his life, he’d been working at a kids’ activity centre, which involved an awful lot of swinging around trees, tightening ropes and harnesses, explaining how zip-wires worked. . . it had all been exhausting, and full of physical exercise. But it had paid far, far too little to keep him going and he’d quit.
So he’d got fat again.
Not that he minded, he felt. . more. . comfortable, in this body. It was more thin. Sure, he hadn’t seen his cock for a good few years but did that really matter? Not to him, he had other things to think about. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was having a bad love life. It was his personality that got the girls, not his looks.
With a yawn – damn, last night had been long and full of paperwork – he was beginning to find himself fall asleep, just watching this bloke put fries into his mouth, two at a time and chew. Unghh. . . Sleep was beckoning. Slowy, slowly-
So, kid, you got a name?
Olly’s half-lidded eyes widened again and he glanced over at the other who, by now, had finished eating. The chubby man wondered if it would be wise to tell this stranger his name. He was hardly unsuspicious. But in the end he gave in and shrugged, “Olly.” He introduced himself with a shrug, before lifting his chin a little to look closer at the other, “What about you?” They might as well get aquainted while they were here.
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|OLLY| |
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Courtney
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #6 on Nov 5, 2009, 10:01pm » | |
Even if he didn't know it, Rowan was watching the guy just as intently as he was watching Rowan. Except Rowan wasn't looking directly at him. Using his keen peripheral vision, Rowan picked up little signals and movements that actually gave him a lot more information than hours of pestering would. So far, though, he hadn't been able to get much body language from the guy. He held back the urge to make a fat joke at this. He didn't really blame the fellow for being overweight... okay he did but he still didn't have that much of a problem with it.
He was about to doze off, Ro could tell. What sort of strenuous work could this guy possibly be doing that he was this tired so early in the day? A light night binge, maybe? It didn't matter. He was drifting back and forth from conciousness, each breach into unconciousness becoming longer each time. Rowan gave a crooked, almost mocking smile at this. Too bad the kid was too tired to notice. Sitting their with his shoulders slouched, Rowan finally got a name out of him.
“Olly. What about you?”
It was just the sort of name that the raggedy were expected him to have. If it weren't strange enough that he was fat with a mohawk, he had the strange name of Olly to go along with it. After a few moments of contimplating whether to say him name or not, the drunk finally decided that there wasn't much the blue-haired were could do with a name so might as well. "They call me Rowan," he said, leaning back a little, a lackadaisical smile spreading across his face. His slightly-more-pointed-than-average canines were revealed in doing so. The strange thing about Rowan was, while the rest of his appearance was grungy and unkept, he had great teeth. Oral hygeine was a pet peeve for the man and if his teeth weren't pearly white, something was wrong.
Seeing the manager headed towards him, Rowan lifted himself from the bench. He thought of leaving but then looked to Olly. Though he wasn't exactly a social butterfly, Rowan did have some manners and knew proper ettiquite enough to know that leaving without even paying the guy for the fries would be very insulting. He looked quickly to the angry manager storming towards him and then at the chubby kid. He pursed his lips and then snapped his attention to Olly. "Wanna take a walk?" he asked, knowing that the were probably hadn't thought about taking a walk in the last five years. Nevertheless, it was worth a shot.
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Rowan |
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Tamsin [Olly]
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #7 on Nov 15, 2009, 8:54am » | |
( Sorry for the delay. I've had a few exams recently, and I still have a lot of essays, coursework etc. to do. I WILL GET ROUND TO THIS. )
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|OLLY| |
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Courtney
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| | Re: Would you like that to go? (Isaiah/Rowan/ANYON
« Reply #8 on Nov 15, 2009, 6:27pm » | |
[Not a problem at all. C: I'm very slow myself with school so I apologize in advance for my inevitable slowness. xD]
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