[open] blame

[lucy]

Tom felt a wave of nausea and abruptly pulled over to the curb. He hurriedly heaved open the door of his '67 Cadillac Hearse and ducked his head out to the open sidewalk. A groan slipped from his slack lips as he braced himself and retched the liquid contents of his stomach onto the pavement with a audible splatter.

In a drunken haze he heaved again, pausing before he wiped the residue from his mouth. After a moment's decision of if he was safe to drive off again he noticed where he had pulled over. He was facing a park, the sounds of laughter carrying to his car.
Tom scanned the layout in front of him, noticing the odd person glance up towards him among groups of people enjoying the beautiful day.

Slowly realizing he looked rather suspicious to be sitting and watching the pedestrians through an open car door he cut the ignition. Thomas reached behind his seat to blindly search around for a camera that looked to have been forgotten after years of photos. He snagged the camera and stepped out onto the sidewalk, swaying slightly as he approached the nearest park bench and dug in his pockets for a package of cigarettes.
Easily finding the pack he lit a cigarette and took a drag of it before beginning to try different apertures and exposures on the beaten up camera to accommodate the dwindling afternoon sunlight.

(sorry for my lame writing skills, join if you'd like)

[Myranda]

Ooc;-will join right now-

[Myranda]

Ooc; this thing logged me out! That's why it says i'm a guest for this post. I will be fully logged in for my next posts, promise! Haha

Bic;

Desiree was sitting on a bench, all by her lonesome, regardless of how many people were around her. At the risk of being a cliché, she needed to think. It was a rather awful time to think, given the loud circumstances. The events of yesterday were still burned into her mind as she twirled the thin thread hanging off of the arm in her gray sweater. It occured to her that the people she met nowadays were all so... Messed up. So broken. Were they a product of their own selves, or of California?

Dezzy wasn't broken, hurt, gay, insane, drunk, high, or beaten. She was normal, for the most part. And as far as 'hurt' goes, she refuses to believe that her mother hurt her. Her mother simply sold her; an action whicu Dezzy can't change, therefore she pays no attention to. She can't care what other people do with their lives, she can only control her own. And within that was a level of comfort.

She had always been told by her loving father that nobody can make her cry. She can tell herself to cry, she can let herself cry, but nobody can make her cry. Nobody can make her feel hurt, abandoned, or used. And she believed it, fortunately for her. It was the basis of all of her confidence. And this is what she considered as she sat on a bench in the park all by her lonesome. And, it was then that she was sure she had just heard someone throwing up.

Sure enough, she looked over to see a young looking guy stumble out of his car with a camera only to sit on the bench that was a few feet away from hers. He seemed like the type of person that would snap a picture of leaves blowing in the wind and call it profound. In a sudden tiny fear that he would feel the need to snap her picture, she turned her face slightly away from him.

But she couldn't look away for too long; her train of thought had already been vanquished and curiosity was getting the best of her. Using her hair as a curtain of protectio between her and the boy, she snuck peeks at him. Well, him and is camera, really. Through the spaces between the long strands of brown hair she watched him and studied his mannerisms. He was interesting; like her own little zoo animal, the strands of her hair serving as the bars he was held captive in. At least until he stood and decided this scene was far too boring for him.

[lucy]

Through the clear camera lens he found little interest in what he thought would have been a good shot to the naked eye. Searching the area beside him for where another lens would have been, he had no luck. Looking down he remembered he was sitting on a park bench, and not in his apartment or a studio. Silently cursing himself he took a drag on his cigarette and went back to the task at hand.

Tom soon noticed the young woman sitting alone on the opposite bench to his. She looked odd to him. Almost mouse-like with her face towards the ground and her hair shielding her eyes. As people walked past, laughing and joyful he snapped a photo, with her in the background. It wasn't striking, but eye catching.
He felt the area around him was suddenly spinning and he jerked away from his camera towards the bushes behind him, vomiting for a second time.
He couldn't be making a very good impression of himself, but at least he had gotten used to moving away from anything of value; like the inside of his car, his camera or his clothes.

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his foot. He spat the sour taste from his mouth and ran his fingers through his short hair before standing up. It was time to leave, go home and sleep for a few hours. He was still disoriented from the recent bout of spins he just went through, and wasn't very well on his feet yet. But as he had gotten up, his attention has turned to the girl on the bench again. It looked as if she was watching him, and curiosity got the better of him. He drunkenly approached her, falling over his accent as he greeted her.
"'Allo m'dear, mush. W'y'doin' all 'lone ov' tha..." he paused, needing a moment to correct himself. " Ova' 'ere's wh' ai mean."

[Myranda]

I knew it. Dezzy thought, scolding herself for not leaving to begin with. She knew he'd take a pictre and she'd be forced into it. No some guy she didn't even know had a picture of her. How embarrassing... She peeked over again to catch him vomiting over the side of the bench- hardly Rosewood status. She figured he was a tourist, because the people who lived here cared so much about the cleanliness of the town and townspeople there were hand sanitizer-dispensers on every block.

When he stumbled over to her, Dezzy felt herself blush. But, not because she thought he was 'cute' and she had been dying to talk to him- she didn't know what to say to the boy. First off, she hardly understood a word he had just said, and secondly she despised drunk people. Being around a drunk person while she was sober was like babysitting to her. And by coming over to her just now, he had just invited himself to be babysat by her all day. Dezzy had a strong personality and could have easily told him to leave her alone or she'll punch him straight in the penis, but her guilt factor played a big part in her not saying that. If she had let the drunk go off on his own and he ended up getting back in his car and killing someone, it would sorta-kinda be her fault.

Trying to stay confident, although having no idea how to approach this character, she straightened her shoulders put and pushed some hair out of her face. She slowly allowed herself to look him in the eye. He smelled like... Something awful. Cigarettes and alcohol, maybe. Typical 'artist on the rise' right? She gave a short, nervous laugh and half-smiled. "Uhm... I'm sorry... What?"

[lucy]

He grinned, amused by her confusion for a moment. He was silent for a few seconds until he realized Desiree hadn't understood him.
"Y'mardy bum..." he laughed childishly, "Ai said, whot yoo doin' all alone ova' he'a?" Tom studied her as he slurred. Unable to catch on he was unwelcome, he sat down beside her and fired another question before she could answer the first. "Yoo go t'tha' fancy secondary up th'road?"

She was pretty, not gorgeous but neither was Thomas; as much as he liked to think so. He had taken her photo, he might as well make an attempt to know her regardless of the state he was in. "Ai took y'pi'cha ova' on th'other bench, y'wanna see?" he asked, nodding to the Canon 40D in his left hand. He brought up the photo on the camera's display and leaned closer to her so she could get a proper view of it

[Myranda]

Dezzy wasn't too surprised when he sat down beside her. It just made it all the more clear that she was to babysit him through his entire drunken state and not let him out of her sight until he was sober. It's not like he'd remember her when he woke up tomorrow or anything, so there was no harm it chatting with him. That was the best way to deal with a drunk, after all. Talk to them, distract them from danger and bad decisions.

"Oh, uhmm.." She said, finally understanding what he asled. But before she could answer, he had moved om to his next question. "Yeah, I go to Rosewood." She said, looking down and picking nail polish off of her fingers. She looked over at his camera, and sure enough, there she was. Her face was somewhat hidden but she could still tell it was her. She pressed her lips together in a fake smile and nodded. "Yes. That's... That's me. Uhm. Great picture! You.... Really did a good job." Now delete it.

[lucy]

"Yeah figured tha'. Ai started th'no' too long ago..M'not prop'a used t'this awful heat all th'time. M'used t'it f'a few days then we'd move onto ano'fer city." Tom sighed, memories of his friends from his favored gloomy city taking up his train of thought. He missed the exciting days and out of control nights he would spend with his older brother among their friends. Those days were hectic as well as the most fun Thomas has had while living on a bus.

He pursed his lips and studied the small display on his camera.
"S'not all t'good, Ai know. M'outta practice, s'been s'long since I've 'eld a camera." He smiled childishly again, "Well..Ai be'a be headin' off." His mood was getting out of hand, too many things occupying his intoxicated brain to concentrate on. "M'really tired, actually."
Thomas turned to Deezy again, "I'was prop'a well talkin' t'ya m'dear," he slurred, taking an effort to stand up from the bench. Truth be told he didn't want to leave but he had a nagging urge to go back to his car and to his soft bed.

[Myranda]

Dezzy's eyes widened as he started to stand. "No!" She said, a little too quickly as she grabbed his arm to pull him back down. "Uh, I mean...." she paused for a moment, and then giggled flirtily. "I think it's a wonderful picture. Hownlong havv you been doing photography?" She smiled sweetly at him. She figured if she acted cute, as drunk as he was he'd believe she was cute and stay to talk to her.

Allowing to him drive like this was not an option, however. With her hand still on his arm, she looked him in the eye, fully prepared to go to great lengths just to keep this guy out of his car. "Tell me all about your.. Picture-taking skills." She said, smiling sweetly as she begged God this would work. She couldn't handle the guilt she would feel of, you know, he managed to kill himself or someone else. Not to mention, this kid looked super young. Underaged drinking was all the rage, but it was such a bad idea...

[lucy]

Tom raised his eyebrow's in a disbelieving look, only to ignore her outburst, grin at her and sit back down. She suddenly got a lot more attractive with the fact she didn't want him to leave. "I've been doin' photography f'awhile now...m'gonna say fou'teen, so..three yea's maybe. Started doin' it t'keep meself busy, y'know? Turns out Ai liked it a lot m'than Ai thought Ai would."

Thomas brushed his fingers against his hair, "M..started workin' f'me brother last yea', helped out wif' tha' photos f'is clothing brand. Jus' sorta went from there." He paused, "Me name's Tom, by th'way."

[Myranda]

Dezzy smiled, though the most she understood out of that was that he was only seventeen. Poor kid. She wondered why he felt the need to drink until he vomited... There was nothing that sounded appealing about that. But, nonetheless, she had to with him. He was kind of adorable, like a little boy. She giggled again and nodeed. "Very cool. My name is Desiree, Dezzy for short."

She wondered how long she could keep the flirting charade up, and what she could do with him afterwards. She could drive him home for him, if he gave her diections. But if he passed out and-slash-or was still drunk by that time, that might not worl out to well. And she certainly couldn't take him back to her own dorm, she'd get inassive trouble for that. If worse came to worse, that's what she would resort to. But as of now she just hoped he's sober up soon.

[lucy]

"Mhm..Dezzy," he dragged out her name, testing it. "Pre'y name y'got mush." he said, yawning. "B'I do go'a 'ead home..." He wasn't too sure why he was still sitting there with her, really. Had he zoned out and missed something she had said. He gazed out at the scenery in front of him like he had done when he had first arrived at this quaint park. The sun was slowly starting to set, turning the sky a bright orange.

"I'was prop'a nice meetin' y'mush," he said, standing up once more. He wasn't sure on his feet still, suddenly noticing how tired he was. His eyelids were heavy, taking long pauses between each blink. "See y'around," he smiled, stepping away from the bench.

[Myranda]

"Uhhh..." Dezzy said nervously, standing up with him. "I'll go with you!" She said, a hint of panic in her voice. Oh, jeez this was so difficult! Her choices were look like a slut and go home with him, or risk angering the kid by calling him out on his drunkenness. She sighed, deciding it risk it. "You're really in no state to drive. At least let me drive you home." She offered, still not willing to let him out of her sight.

"Or, we can go to th cofree shop and get some coffee, and you can sober up a bit before you leave. How doesthat sound?" her tone was soft and kind; she was treading lightly. Drunks were the most violent of all people when they were angry. This could go well, or very badly. "Please?" She asked, literally begging him to reconsider driving.

[lucy]

"M'sorry, Ai jus' really wanna get home." He said, sighing as he spoke. "Ai can drive meself." His view of her quickly had shifted from cute girl at the park to someone that really needed to learn to leave another person alone. "I'll see y'around mate," he slurred slightly as he walked back to his car.

Tom yawned and lightly tossed his camera in the back seat, chances are it would stay there for another long while. He grabbed his keys from his trouser pocket but he just..couldn't..keep..his eyes open; shortly passing out in the driver's seat.

[Myranda]

Dezzy crossed her arms and watched him stumble into the driver's seat. She rolled her eyes, now this was just annoying. But what could she do? Pull him out of the seat and let him instead sleep on the bench? She was just a girl, she couldn't carry a man. She couldn't even stop the kid from getting into his car. She sighed, her quizzical brow now fading back to normal. Worst case scenario: He wakes up ten seconds from now, still drunk and tries to drive.

Dezzy had to hope for plan 'b', mainly for her own conscience. Best case scenario: He wakes up a while from now, sober, and much better off to drive. Well, as was her unwanted duty, Dezzy had no choice but to sit on the bench facing his car and wait for him to wake up. She hadn't meant to piss him off by pestering him, but it was her job, provoked by an old experience that she'll never quite forget.