(Untitled)

[shewaswarned]

She hasn't been able to sleep straight through the night in months

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[bloodycrescents]

The women on this island are mindblowingly beautiful. It's a fact I can't escape. One I don't try hard to, because it's torturous, but I can't want it to stop. If the schoolgirls waiting for the bus drove me crazy back home, this seems like the price to pay for already being out of my mind

[shewaswarned]

It might be the dress, it might be the overall mood of the place - but something has me moving to order that martini tonight instead of the beer this place seems to be known for. The vodka is stronger, burns a little more in the back of my throat, and I'm careful to order it extra dirty - not because I necessarily like the taste of olives but because I need that bitterness, just enough to cut into the strength of the alcohol so I'm not bowled over within the first three sips. It's what makes it possible for me to get through the first without stumbling, and then another. I'm not necessarily seeking out conversation tonight, but I'm not exactly closing myself off to it either. Even at this hour, there's probably people who are feeling just as restless as I am, and sooner or later, I'm sure I'll make out a familiar face in my slightly dimmer surroundings before I stumble back to the Compound with my shoes in one hand

[bloodycrescents]

The woods around our house on Potshot Road used to be thick with deer. I don't mean a handful, a family; I mean, so many anybody wandering by with a gun could take a potshot and take one down. It's how the street got its nickname. I remember seeing them when I was a kid, creeping into our yard to steal dog food in the early morning dew, though most of the time, Mom would make me and Amber stay inside when they began migrating our way, afraid we'd get shot

[shewaswarned]

At most, I'm expecting indifference. I'm predicting a smirk of some kind, that cocksure sign of confidence that gives him an air far beyond his years of - well, however old he is. There's nothing in his overall demeanor that gives me any sign one way or another, but there's also this - almost shyness, I'm tempted to say, this tentative approach he has while still managing to insert himself into the conversation. It might be the two drinks I've already had tonight, but I can't read him either way, sure or unsure, comfortable or not. But I can handle small talk; I should hope I'd be able to manage that much, at least. I'd be insulting my very profession if I couldn't rely on my ability to talk, no matter the amount of alcohol currently coursing through my bloodstream

[coffee_sir]

The thing about lies is that the more one tells them, the more they feel like truth. Every mention adds a little more to a wall, a different kind of reality one builds up around oneself. Ianto has told the lie about his father being a master tailor so often that, now, he practically is one himself. He teaches courses on sewing and makes his child's clothes when he can't be bothered to deal with the clothes box. So if Ianto glances appreciatively at Ellen now, it's not due to any trouble in his marriage. He simply likes a nice dress. And pretty women in them. But that last bit is secondary.

"I'm going to have to start insisting upon a dress code in here," he says as he makes his way over behind the bar. "That dress is too nice. You're going to start making my regular clientele feel embarrassed."

[shewaswarned]

Despite herself, despite the inner voice that sounds too much like Patty telling her she shouldn't show even the slightest sign of weakness, Ellen blushes. It's not exactly out of romantic interest in Ianto - he is married, after all, and she has never been that kind of girl - but she won't deny that she appreciates a compliment. It's been a long time since she's received a sincere one, and that makes it all the more meaningful coming from him now. Not to mention the fact that she feels a unique sort of kinship with him, especially after he'd been so kind as to show her around on her first day.

"You work here?" she asks, after giving his comment a murmured thanks. "I don't know. I guess I don't have any other occasion to wear it, so why wait?"

[coffee_sir]

"I own here," he corrects her, more from amusement than any sense of injured pride. "As much as anyone can own things on the island without property laws and the like. But who cares about details in a bar?"

Ianto stops just to the side of her. He has to look available, as he is tending bar, but no one's asking for anything and it's his prerogative to stop and chat. "I like your thinking. I used to wear suits, even here, all the time. Wearing something well cut, well made, that makes you look good. That's reason in itself to me."

[shewaswarned]

"Wow," Ellen softly exclaims, visibly impressed as she gives the place a cursory once-over. She's been here enough times before, but somehow she's never managed to connect the dots until now.

Idly, she taps a few fingers against the bar, taking advantage of the pause to examine her fingernails. Back home, she'd at least have the time to schedule in a manicure; here, things have taken something of a downward spiral as far as that's concerned. "So what changed? Not that you still don't look sharp."

[dreambigger]

He recognizes her, of course. Even if he didn't make it - well, keep it, really - his business to do so, Eames thinks the same would have been true regardless. Something about Ellen caught his attention and held it when they first met on the day she arrived here, and that hasn't changed when he catches sight of her now, on his way into the Hub for a drink himself. The dress, the shoes, the fact that she's sitting there alone, it's intriguing, really, enough to make him wonder what she's getting at. He doesn't think it's accidental.

Taking a seat one stool down from her and ordering himself a drink, he angles slightly in her direction, offers a smile. "Hello, darling," he says lightly, then gestures towards her with his chin, the motion just enough to be noticeable. "You look lovely tonight. What's the occasion?"

[shewaswarned]

Ellen's equally intrigued - not necessarily by his presence here, or what exactly his plans are, but by the man in general. They'd made pleasantries on their walk first thing, when she'd initially arrived, but she'd only learned so much about him, and she knew that was his intention, most likely. It had certainly been hers, but rather than push people away, her subtleties only serve to draw people in. She's not sure if she wants more people getting closer than she'd like.

"Why does there have to be an occasion?" she asks, fingers reflexively curling around her glass as she does the same, positioning herself in his direction with a small swivel. "I thought tonight was a good time to take a break from the sandals and shorts."

[dreambigger]

"Believe me, you'll get no complaints here," Eames says, warm rather than outright suggestive. He can be shameless, but it's almost more fun, at times, not to be. Anyway, nothing like that is his intention, at least not primarily. He finds her too fascinating for that, and, for that matter, isn't convinced that there's no occasion, however true her last statement may be. "Just thought I'd ask. It's not the sort of thing you see 'round here every day, you know, someone looking quite so good."

[shewaswarned]

"And yet look at you," Ellen points out, nodding from her drink to the suit he's wearing. It may not be completely Wall Street material, but it's certainly nicer than a lot of island wear she sees some people donning on a daily basis. Some people seem to have given up the way of the formally-dressed, but Ellen's not quite ready to relinquish her grip on the things she has limited control over, once the clothes box gives her a good selection. This is one of those nights where she feels as though she needs to be in control of something, no matter how small. "Very sharp."

[angriestman]

Sometimes, he just wants to let Rachel sleep. He's restless, so he walks, and, more often than not, he ends up in the Hub with a drink in front of him. Tonight, he's left the hat at home, so it's just him sitting there. He does have his gun at his hip. He wonders if there'll ever be a time when he'll be comfortable without it. Maybe he'll never be able to leave that part of himself firmly behind.

He hasn't seen her since the first day that she arrived. He watches her for a long moment, head tilted to one side.

"How're you settlin' in?"

[shewaswarned]

She can't help it - there's still going to be an initial beat when she looks at him and sees Wes. The hair is longer, and the hat is there (though not tonight), but the overall resemblance is uncanny until he opens his mouth and she catches a hint of that Southern accent tinging his voice. She knows he's here, has known he's here since he walked in, but doesn't attempt conversation until he beats her to it.

"Fine," she replies, nodding politely. "Thinking of looking for someplace else to live, though. The Compound is nice, but it's not really my style."

[angriestman]

"Yeah. You've got to find somewhere you're happy."

Still mired in home improvements, Raylan can understand the impulse. He takes a sip from his drink and stands, walking over to her and touching the back of the spare chair.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asks. "If we're going to talk anyway."

[shewaswarned]

"Do I - no, no, it's fine, please," she murmurs, motioning to the chair with one hand as both eyebrows rise in mild surprise.

She'd hate for anything in her demeanor to scare him off; if anything, the fact that he reminds her of Wes is a strange comfort, not to mention the other part where he's not bad to look at. She can almost guarantee that he has someone else in his life, though. She'd be willing to bet money on it.

"Are there just the huts, or what?" she asks, glancing over at him. Seeing as how he's been around longer, he must have some idea.

[wingerguarantee]

There's only a handful of things to do at night, and the Hub is usually Jeff's favorite. He usually doesn't drink a lot (there's times where he does, sure, he won't lie about that), but more uses it as a place to relax that is the closest thing to normal this place can have. When people he's attracted to show up, well, all the better.

But tonight was a whole other story. He'd been working through his first drink when he saw from his booth seat Ellen walk in and take a seat at the bar. He watches her for a little while (because wow, that dress does look pretty amazing on her), before getting up to take a seat beside her, nudging his empty mug toward the bartender to get it filled up.

"I'm feeling underdressed all of a sudden," he joked, though he was wearing something decent enough - everything in his wardrobe was decent.

[shewaswarned]

"Don't worry," Ellen murmurs, already starting to smile when Jeff takes a seat at her side. "I'm sure we can find you a dress of your very own."

She isn't quite sure how to go about reading him - especially after she'd gotten the note that they'd chosen each other after the speed dating round, and not she doesn't know exactly where to go with this information as there hadn't been much of a follow-up from the event. It is encouraging to know that he enjoys her company as much as she does his, at least for all of five minutes, but she did have a drink with him before and things had been slightly more invaded with monkeys. Tonight, at least, seems monkey-free.

"Waiting for someone?"

[wingerguarantee]

"I don't even want to know if dresses come in my size," he joked, smirking, as he took back his now-filled drink. Settled in a seat next to her now, he paused to take a sip before adding, "No one in particular. What about you?"

She was dressed up like she was on a date, but he hadn't seen anyone approach her in the little while he'd seen her in the Hub.

[shewaswarned]

"Oh, a maternity dress at least," she insists, her own smirk plain and visible as she glances to the formerly empty seat, then back up to his face.

"Well, it seems like I've found someone now, so my answer should change on that, right?"