(Untitled)

[misschimera]

Date: Fall 2005
Characters: Candice Wilmer, Lance Alvers
Summary: After an 'accidental' encounter with Amerie and her powers, Candice nurses a drink and her wounds with an old acquaintance.
Status: Complete
Selectively private (ie, call and ye shall be answered)

At least she wasn't drinking again. Something told her alcohol and painkillers didn't mix,

Comments

[rockin_outloud]

Lance was sure at the ripe old age of twenty two, the sheer frequency with which he ended up in a bar was cause for a raised eyebrow somehere. But he'd never been a guy to put stock in personality profiles or anything other such garbage, and so finding himself bored at home with nothing on TV, decided to head out for a pint.

When he pushed open the door and caught sight of the woman sitting at the bar, he nearly turned around and headed straight back home.

Oh grow the fuck up. She's not going to jump you or something. Ego much?

Rolling his eyes at himself, he headed over to the bar, sliding into the seat next to her.

"You look like hell."

[misschimera]

She looked away from the mirror, startled. Just the person she hadn't been looking to see. No, actually that was pretty unfair, even for her. She'd just been enjoying anonymity for a while and he had to come ruin her fun.

Because being alone and being to chickenshit to call anyone is so much fun.

"Nice to see you too," she smirked, stubbing out her cigarette and lighting another.

[rockin_outloud]

Lance returned the smirk, ordering a beer from the bartender and raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"Not interrupting anything, am I? Cause a 'fuck off' is perfectly acceptable."

[misschimera]

"Pity party only," she assured him, taking another drag of her smoke just for something to do. It was such an unfortunate thing to have a mirror behind the bar. Honestly. Maybe she'd tell Daddy dearest to drop a hint and have it moved.

Maybe she'd come down and smash it herself. Seven years' bad luck was it? Totally reasonable.

[rockin_outloud]

Taking a sip of his beer, Lance nodded, wincing at the sight of the bruise on her forehead.

"Can I ask what got you the beauty mark?" he said neutrally, hoping it wasn't the complication she mentioned earlier. Cause that would be fastforwarding straight past complicated into fucking mess and she sure as hell didn't deserve that.

Aren't you just the picture of chivalry.