Hook, Line, and Sinker

Grisly Bar

Worn wooden floors stained with ages of spilled drinks (and worse), creak under the feet of patrons as they enter the dark, disordered room. Though dust has settled over a lot of the establishment, making it appear abandoned, the flow of customers would speak differently. Dirty glasses, some with sticky yellow patches in the bottom where beer or scotch has been allowed to dry, stand on one end of the bar.
Several of the windows have been bricked up to prevent vandalism, but create a great fire-hazard. There is a tarnished mirror on the wall behind the bar with a chipped and fading Art Nouveau nymph painted across the bottom.

Every couple of days, the Grisly bar summons a local band to pollute the air with their particular brand of noise. Tonight's brand of organized chaos markets themselves as the Disintegrators - a garage band which pays homage to the early explosive energy of the punk rock revolution of the late 60s and earl 70s. So really, is it any surprise to find Hyde loitering around in the back, leaning against the counter in that too-cool-for-school way he usually adopts as he nurses his mug of beer.

He looks critical of the music performance, as he always does, but there are certain tells that demonstrate that he's enjoying himself. The simple, subtle way his toes tap in time to the music tell much more than the scowl on his face reveals. He no longer harbors a black eye, although the cut above his eyebrow is still scabbed over, just healing.
You turn autospacing ON.

"Saw that," Megan says from behind him. While this isn't exactly her cup of tea these days, what with the upscale image she tries to promote for Magnolia for Maggie, she's been dragged here by one of her oldest friends in the Dallas area. Said friend is now trying to catch the attention of the band, and while Meg would generally be up there with her, something else caught her eye.

Something in the way of a Hyde.

Leaning over his shoulder a little, she tries to snatch the mug of beer, all so she can take a sip. "How's business?"

Hyde doesn't notice his esteemed ex at first. It's not until he hears the familiar rasp of her voice that he realizes she's present at all. Obviously, his Megan-dar is on the fritz. "Hn?" He grunts like the glorified caveman he is - eyes narrowing as he turns to stare at the woman that sequestered his beer. And though his lips purse in his usual display of irritation at it, it is telling that he doesn't verbally complain. Or even worse, physically rip his mug out of her hands. "Saw what? Business is business." Curt, brisk, and quite succinct - that's how Hyde rolls. No awards in communication going his way ever.

A long sip is taken, then Megan places the mug atop the bar again. "You enjoying yourself." No intentions of getting in his way, really. She mainly came over to say hello, and to avoid being lumped with the band groupies. "Same old Hyde. Adorable when irritated." Winking at him, she shifts back so that she can lean her chin on his shoulder. He's one of the few people that she's ever been around that she doesn't feel the need to mimic, so running into him — even though unexpected — is a nice change of pace for her.

Hyde lets out a snort of disbelief, rolling his dark eyes in a habitual fashion when she claims that he was 'enjoying himself'. "Impossible," he drawls in that slow, slightly pompous manner. "You've no proof, and are full of shit." There is no reaction to her winking, and even less of a reaction when he is deemed 'adorable'. For Hyde is a stoic, surly young man. Enjoying himself and letting loose would do horrible things to his reputation. However, when she perches upon him, he lets out a low sigh of exasperation. He does not, however, brush her off. "What're you doing these days, Megs?"

"Toe tapping," Megan points out with a laugh. "It's a tell, Jeckyll. You're enjoying the music." Holding two fingers up to the bartender, she procures them two more beers. "Though I am generally full of shit. That's why you like me so much." Sliding some cash across to the man, she lifts up her own mug and takes a hearty drink from it. "Same old, same old. Pulling my weight at Magnolia. Trying to bank enough cash to open a shop of my own. You know how it is." He should, since she generally bails him out of trouble with her savings, which is why it's taken her six years to build it up even half the way of where it should be.

Literally bail. But Hyde's been good lately! He hasn't been arrested much lately. See, he's getting better. When caught on the toe-tapping front, Hyde scowls and immediately stills his errant digits, keeping his legs as still as a statue. "Video or it didn't happen," he grunts then, stubborn enough to deny reality in the face and be completely serious about it. "What makes you think I like you at all?" He counters simply over the music, not yelling but his voice powerful enough to be heard due to their close proximity. In fact, to facilitate communication, he dips his head in closer to her. "Maybe I was just using you all this time."

Heart-shaped sunglasses are lifted up slightly as she peers down at his feet. A smirk appears on her lips, and she shakes her head. Some things, and some people just never change. It's almost peaceful. "There was a little thing about you dragging me across country with you, and I figure if you didn't like me, you'd be long gone by now." Megan would be the very first to admit that they have their issues, his surliness being one of them — though it's one thing that doesn't affect her chameleon personality. "Though, hey, if you were using me? I sure as hell had fun with it too, so no harm, no foul."

"You had money and you were an easy lay," Leave it to Hyde to boil down the entirety of there relationship to such callous, cold remarks. Even if they aren't true, it's the image that he portrays to the outside world. Always. For if he admitted to liking Megan, even in the middle of their relationship, then he would be vulnerable. And one thing Hyde isn't is vulnerable. Ever. "What do you mean, long gone by now? I left you a couple of months ago."

"Love you too, sourpuss." Megan takes the callousness in stride. After all, the on-again-off-again thing has pretty much made it easy for her to. The mug of beer is lifted to her lips again, the majority of it being swallowed down before she bothers to talk. "I figured you would have left the city. Restarted the stalled journey. You know, done that running off thing you're good at." The empty mug is set on the bar, and she slips back away from him. Seating herself on a stool and ordering another.

See. This is why Hyde barely insults Megan. She doesn't react to them like she should - she's too used to him. And this irritates Hyde to no end. Sullenly the man lifts the mug to his lips, downing the remainder of it so that he can now focus on the one she has recently bought him. "Yeah…well, who's to say I'm not going to? I just haven't felt like it. Once the inspiration hits - I'm out there."

The fact that it irritates him is likely why she reacts as she does. There's no pouting, or foot stomping, or begging him to stay. Instead, Megan offers him a half-smile. "Let me know when you're leaving so I know when my pocketbook is safe again." The new mug of beer is lifted up in a toast to him, a singular toast as no one else is going to toast him at this point.

"Nothing. Nothing at all?" Hyde inquires as his eyes narrow in her direction, examining her closely, carefully. "You've changed from before. No wonder I left you." He pauses to allow the impact of his words to hit her, before finally lifting his mug to meet with hers in a reluctant 'clink' of the glasses. "What're we toasting to?"

That causes a bit of ire, but she copies his narrow-eyed, stoic expression. Only because she's the one who left him last time around. Megan's glare would likely chill another man to the bone, but she knows it will do little to change the way her ex looks. "You've changed too, Jeck's. You're going out of your way to hurt me now." The mugs clink together, some of the beer in hers sloshing over onto the floor. "My pocketbook, your inspiration, does it really matter?"

"Only because before it was easier to hurt you. And because before you wouldn't have taken it to heart like you are now. It's like you don't even know me." Hyde comments, cool and easy as possible. "No, I guess it doesn't matter. All it is is an excuse to drink without reservation anyway. An excuse to dull away the pain of dissatisfaction." And with this in the air between them, he throws back a good portion of his drink liberally.

"Taking it to heart? Me?" Megan laughs, then sips from the mug before setting it down. "Not hardly. What can I say? I'm hard to hurt tonight." Though if he remembers at all, he'll be able to see through the lie. She's hurt, she's just being good to not show it and ruin his good time. "Exactly. You should spring by the apartment some time. Got a few of your old CDs still laying around."

Hyde can recognize the pain in her body language. The way she denies, denies denies just a bit too quickly. And upon seeing this reaction, the man is calmed. His eyes narrow speculatively, and he looks her over slowly, deliberately. Before hitting her with what hurts the most: "I don't know if that'd be a good idea, Megan." He's gruff, he's honest, and his voice has been lowered. For her ears only. Because it wouldn't be a good idea. It would only end in more tears and more suffering from at least one of them. And yet… "You still at the same apartment, yeah? Good. Maybe I'll drop by sometime."

Hyde has never been good at being good. Never.

Megan knows it won't be a good idea. It's never a good idea, and she's quite certain that's the reason they're so on-again-off-again. The heart-shaped sunglasses are dropped back down onto her nose so that he can't see her eyes, and she nods. "I like it, so yeah." Same apartment. "Pop by anytime. You know where the spare is." No doubt she'll wander in after work some night, and there he'll be.

It's almost a little uncomfortable, how unhealthy their relationship is. But, it can't be helped, not really. And so, as Hyde gets acquainted with the bottom of his mug of beer - he slips back into fairly familiar habits. Six years of familiar habits. For once, he makes his way to his feet proactively, looping his arm around the small of Megan's back. "Tell me about what else you've been doing," he commands.

"Another?" Megan signals to the bartender again, holding up a single finger this time. Her mug is still quite full, as it's her second. The command is enough to send a chill down her spine, and she quietly nurses her drink. "Not much," she replies finally. Truth, though there is a bit more to it than that. "Been working on the collection. Got a few pieces you might like." Testing to see if she's still got it, she reaches back toward him in order to gives his rear a playful swat while attempting to yank free his wallet so that she can pay for the drink she's just ordered for him.

Had Hyde been a stranger, that might have worked. Had Hyde been an ex boyfriend of any other kind, that might have worked. But he knows her. He knows her better than she knows herself, really. And so as her arm retracts with his wallet in hand, there is a sudden movement, during which Hyde makes a swipe grab for her forearm. "Slick. But not slick enough," he grunts, quirking a brow at her to demonstrate that she's been caught red-handed. "What sort of pieces?"

"Damn. Getting rusty." Megan doesn't seem all that put out at being caught, though she does flip a few dollars from it before handing it back to him. "Been a long while since I needed that skill." A legit job provides for her at this point, so pilfering funds from people's wallets isn't something she generally goes around doing. "Leather." Fabric of choice these days. "Worked up a new jacket. Pair of pants too."

There is the faintest of quirks from the corner of his lips. The closest thing to a smile most people can draw out from Hyde, period. He does not protest from her taking a couple of bills from his wallet, so long as she doesn't pilfer the lot of them and returns the wallet in the end, which he proceeds to stick into his pocket once again. "Ah. Almost makes you nostalgic for the old days, doesn't it?" This is inquired with a liberal amount of wry humor - as they'd go days without a place to sleep, pilfering for food funds. "Leather pants? For women or gays?"

The wallet is indeed returned, because she doesn't really need it. Megan just didn't want to be footing the bill for the entire night out. "Almost. The backseat was always comfortable enough." The train of thought about sleeping arrangements obviously shared. "The pants are for me. Red leather." She likes them well enough. Something fun to go clubbing in should the mood ever strike her. "Could use a model for the jacket though." There is just not a teddy bear large enough to model the jacket on.

"What'll I get if I consent to it?" Hyde grunts, the hustler in him requiring compensation for his modeling services. But then, something suddenly strikes him. "Wait…is the leather jacket for women or gays?" He repeats his previous question, just because he'd rather be safe than sorry.

"What do you want?" Megan arches an eyebrow up, then stops to finish off her mug of beer. As she does, a laugh bursts through and she turns her head just enough to peek at him. "Jeckyll, would I ever put you in something I designed for a woman? I'm not that cruel." She isn't him, after all.

"That's not how you play this game. You tell me what you're willing to offer, I'll inform you that it's not worth my dignity, and then you'll up the anti until I agree to do it. Alright? Got it, now?" Hyde looks for confirmation with a lick of his lips. But when she asks him that question, it's all he can do to eye her with his lips pursed slightly. "Blackmail purposes. To exact revenge upon me in some self-satisfying humiliation ritual. Why wouldn't you put me in something designed for a woman?" Beat. "Does that mean the jacket's gay?"

There's another burst of laughter, and Megan spins around so that she's facing him fully. "You know what I'm offering." It's the same thing she offers every time when she wants something from him. "So tell me, is that worth your dignity?" When he eyes her? Well that gets another small laugh. "Baby, if I wanted to blackmail you, I've got a shit ton of pictures to do it with already." Revenge, on the other hand? Well that remains to be seen. "Depends, you batting for the other team now?"

Hyde looks her over, from head to toe, before taking in a deep intake of breath. And then me mentally begins to weigh the worth of his so-called 'prize', silently and with a legitimate thought powering that thought. "…Is it worth my dignity?" He repeats, the tone of voice starting off in a very negative fashion. Like he's about to tell her that no, she's not worth his dignity. "It might as well be, since we both know I'm going to take the bait anyway." Their dance is familiar and very predictable and cyclic. "You know very well that I'm not."

"Then it means the jacket is meant for you, you boob." Megan slips off the bar stool, standing up on her tippy-toes just long enough to wrap her arms about his neck, and plant a slightly tipsy kiss on his cheek. With the bait having been taken, she's content to just release him after that and wander back through the small crowd toward her friend who's still making those awful goo-goo eyes at the drummer. She doesn't run off just yet though. She has enough of a pause to say, "See you 'round then."

Hyde leans back, easing into back against the bar. The woman is eyed, closely and carefully as she wanders off by herself then, his hand sliding into his pocket. "Yeah…yeah, I guess I will."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License