2025-01-04 - One Bourbon, One Whiskey

The inked paramedic has her sleeves pushed up, a hoodie left half unzipped over a band tee, the logo of some tattoo shop in Chicago on the former. King's nails are blood red tonight, to match her lips, black hair pulled back in a long tail. She has the dramatic eyeliner on, deep wings, a go out and start some shit look. It's subtly different from her regular look. The longer she's indoors, the lower the zip goes until she eventually pulls the hoodie off entirely. That band tee is more of a sleeveless top after a close encounter with some scissors sometime in the last fifteen years. She dumps her hoodie over one of the stools nearby, and picks up her phone to fire off a text.

She shakes her head yet another Bob Seger tune plays, thumbs tapping across her phone's keys.

[TXT to Callum] King: I got darts. I got shots. I got games. Come play test them with me?

[TXT to King] Callum: Games? What sort of games? Better not be pictionary.

[TXT to Callum] King: What's wrong with pictionary?

[TXT to King] Callum: Everything.

[TXT to Callum] King: You clearly never played dirty pictionary.

[TXT to King] Callum: Why do I want the pictures when the real thing is there?

[TXT to Callum] King: Because if you can figure out the drawing, you get a prize. Don't you like prizes? I love prizes. Shiny wrapping, lots of fanfare. But. I did not bring dirty pictionary. Not that you can't do that with a pen and bar napkins... I digress.

[TXT to Callum] King: I got darts. I got shots. I'm at Lucky's. I don't think my liver can handle all these shots alone.

[TXT to King] Callum: You better be in wrapping paper when I get there.

[TXT to Callum] King: If you wanna unwrap your gift, you have to say please.

[TXT to King] Callum: Do I seem the sort to give my please and thank yous?

It's a few minutes later that Callum emerges into Lucky's, those pale blue eyes sweeping around while he pauses just inside. It takes all of a few seconds to spy King, and then it's towards her, slinging off his well worn puffer jacket as he goes. It reveals a sweater beneath today, a blue with more subtle threads of blue to accentuate it, and a pair of jeans with his cowboy boots finishing the ensemble.

"Well, aren't you dolled up for a night out." It's the red nails, the subtle change of eyeliner that he notices, a quirk of his mouth tucking up in an expression of appreciation. He doesn't yet slide up onto a stool, instead propping up in a lean against table. "You a shots first, darts later girl, or you prefer bein' sober when your tossing?"

King looks up from sniffing one of the snots. Seems she's already forgotten what's in each of them, and as there are twelve, that's not really hard to do. When her green eyes light on Callum, she smiles. And yeah, it hits her eyes. She slides a glance down his body real slow, then right back up, taking her time once it's noted he's wearing the boots again. "Y'know," King begins. "Every time I see you in those boots, it just brings me a little piece of the good part of home. Little bit nostalgia, little bit somethin' else."

She nods and sweeps a hand toward herself. "Didn't work a long shift, had time for a whole shower and a touch up before I wandered on out here. Thanks for noticing." The smile brightens. "Before, during, or after, baby. I'm not too picky about when the alcohol goes down." She slides off of her bar stool and takes the step to close the distance, arms immediately sliding over his shoulders. She bodies up against him, all warm and smelling like warm sweets. She doesn't wear perfume, but the body lotions and some kind of oil on her skin are just scented enough to catch them when she's close. "Customary to do at least one shot before you start. Kinda like a mystery box of booze." She looks at his mouth when she speaks, lashes lowered.

"I was thinkin this game goes round by round. Whoever's closest to the bullseye gets to ask a question. And answers it themselves too. But if you don't wanna answer it, you take a shot. Game is no lies, but you also don't need to spill shit you ain't already comfortable saying."

A lazy straightening gets him a spot away from the table, enough room for her to easily find a spot to press up against him, to wrap those arms around. One of his own snakes around her waist, constricting to help bring her in nice and snug. "Well. Sounds like you already have things all thought out. Didn't know you were into high stakes." Those words roll of dryly, but there doesn't seem to be any concern about what she proposes, enough outs given to make it more than comfortable.

His eyes slide over her shoulder, down to where those shots are lined up, and he must have noticed her trying to sort out what is what. "Just exactly what are we drinking?" It's a peering look first to discern the color as best he can, before that head leans in further, all to press a light kiss against her neck, and then her cheek. "Your idea, you can be first up then. Though I'm not gunna go easy on you. Hope you like answering questions." Of course, he has to do the same, but that isn't the point. A touch competitive? It'd seem so.

"I like a good game," King says to Callum. "I like the stakes. I like the competition." She smiles just a little bit more. "I like the rewards." She glances over at the shots when Callum does, more than happy to explain this here game to him while she's getting some body to body time. "Oh, so. There's six different shots." Two of each then! "I just said gimme a mix, so your guess is good as mine. I'm thinkin' that red one's fireball." Hot cinnamon whiskey for your mouth burning pleasure. "No creams, no mints. I was real specific on that front."

She trails off talking at the kiss to her neck, one shoulder rising. A soft sound is caught in her throat. The kiss to her cheek just has her turning to brushes her lips to corner of his mouth. "Alright, you're on. And you better not go easy. Never go easy, baby." She twitches a smile that's almost a laugh. "Unless I say please." She picks up a dart, and glances down his body, a sweep of her gaze before she turns to the dart board, her other hand sliding across his hip. "Maybe not even then." She takes a couple steps away to the line and brings up her dart to throw it! It sticks in one of the outer rings, but only just.

"Then I'll be certain to be hard and firm on you." A rasp of monotone voice, a brush of his mouth against her own, and then that arm unthreads from her as she moves to the line, those eyes focused with an attentive gaze. Its both form and result that he watches, and not simply to appreciate the figure. A small dip of his head comes with the dart thudding into the outer ring, and then his fingers curl around one of the pieces, trading places with her to take his own throw. "Been a while since I've done this. Lets see what I remember."

He takes a moment to line things up, to try and remember the technique with... passable results. With a thud just a few spots away from hers, it sinks into the outer ring as well, no closer or further away from that bullseye than she had managed. "Well. Might be rusty." A bemused smile graces his lips just barely, and then he takes a step back, leaving the throwing spot free for her to take up.

"You can't say shit like that when I'm throwing a sharp object," King says. Though he clearly can and he did. Well before she threw that dart, actually. So no harm, no foul! "Just like riding a bike, baby. Nice and easy, see where it lands," she says, standing slightly aside so he can make his throw from the line. She glances over, and maybe her gaze wanders some more. She watches him when he moves to throw. His profile, the line of his throat, "I'm sure you'll warm right up." She takes up another dart and eventually drags her attention back to the board. "Hm. Should not have started earlier with the alcohol," she mutters, then squints and throws again. Thunk! This time, she's in one of the inner rings, but not quite the bullseye. Much closer, though.

"That's the best time, darlin." Comes Callum's response, the lazy smile offering no hint of fear in the least. A dart is likely the least of his concerns in a bar. A brow arches as she starts to hone in her aim quite well, and those dry tones pick right up, "You plain' me, gorgeous? My first question might needa be if your a semi-professional darts player." He steps up, dart in hand, taking a few moments to line things up before he lets it fly. Thunk right into the board, better than his first. Better than his first... but still a bit further away than her second, giving her the win for this round. A soft snort comes, and then he siddles back up to the table, a hand reaching out to curl around the shot. Just in case. "All right. Whats your question?"

"Hey, I'm rusty too," she says with a glance over her shoulder. "You like bein' played?" Before that question has too much time to do more than hit, she adds:

"How long were you in?" King says asks. The question's very specific, but doesn't beg any details, and so those are Callum's to add, or leave as he wishes. Of course, there's always the option of a shot instead. "Oh," she adds, "We take a shot since nobody had the decency to win the first throw. You take two if you wanna abstain." Sucking at darts (or being rusty to recover!) will cost them both a little sobriety each time it happens.

She picks up a shot. "I asked you a question I don't have an answer to, less you could some holding cells, so I either drink two or you ask me a free question you ain't gotta drink for." There's some code switching now, her accent creeping out a little more under the influence of some of the alcohol she had earlier. One might get the sense this game is a work in progress, and has no actual set rules.

Up Callum draws a random shot, a rye whiskey as it turns out, and without a moment of hesitation it goes down the hatch. A faint grimace appropriate for such a quick drink is had, tongue running over his teeth and then lips, but he doesn't reach for a second one. "Five years." Does he offer more? No, not in the least, for she hadn't asked. Seems like with that many shots, he's going to play hard to get, at least in the beginning, or maybe he just wants to see how far she'll push.

"Here I thought you were gunna offer to let me handcuff you instead. Suppose a second shot for you is fair." He heads up to the board, retrieving the four darts that are there, and three of them end up back on the table. The last he keeps, stepping up to that line, and this time he eyes it up nice and sharp. "Nah. I don't get played. Bad things happen when someone tries it." Thunk goes the dart, not quite a bullseye, but oh so close that it will take a damned good throw to meet or beat it.

King throws back her first shot, avoiding the red-tinged fireball for the moment. What she chooses is clear, so it could be in the tequila family. Her face after she swallows it says it's a cheap one, or she doesn't like tequila. "I'm gonna say all whiskey next time this happens," she mutters, sucking in a breath. She flips the shot glass upside down on the drink tray, leaving one empty with a line of five full shots there. She waits for Callum to decide if she's taking another hit or answering a freebie question instead.

Five years is certainly heard and filed away. King hms but doesn't comment. She picks up that second shot and tips it back, throat working to swallow it. She brushes a finger across the corner of her mouth to catch some spillage. "Right." Whew. She sucks in a breath after that one, but seems it wasn't quite so disagreeable. After a couple, though, everything starts tasting ok, which she'll probably be thinking right up until that last one. "If you wanna talk bondage fun, that's gonna take a little more than a game of darts." Meanwhile, her eyes follow every move he makes.

"You do know you sayin that to me makes me wanna ask what happens. Fuckin' simple creature that I am." She takes a throw, and again, outer rings, which wins Callum that round.

"Yeah. And I'm sure you know enough about me to figure out I'll tell you I'm more a show than tell sort." The words come out crisp, droll in that growingly familiar humor of the man as he watches her return, and those pale blue eyes flicker up and down her for just a heartbeat. Picturing her in cuffs? Maybe. But certainly admiring regardless. "Mm. Close, but not quite." He murmurs upon further inspection of the result of those darts.

"Who you runnin from - or avoidin - back home?" It might be a miss, not quite accurate as to her situation, but it is something that clearly as tugged at the corner of his mind since their past conversations. Closer he gets, enough to let bodies bump and nestle for a moment, before he takes in a deep breath to let it out. "And you'll get no complaint from me if we do all whiskey. Never did get much of a likin' for the others."

"I know you are," King says, thumb brushing down the fletching of one of the darts. "Sometimes the hands are far more effective than the words." She tap-taps the dart against the table and glances over at the board. She looks over at Callum and takes a breath. "Ok, you're right." She picks up a shot. "I opened that door." And then she tips that shot back, long line of her throat visible for a moment it takes to swallow it and thump the shot glass down.

"Back home, mostly my brothers, but that's because they got big mouths and real low willpower, so when a couple guys with a whole lot of cash wanna know where I am, going price isn't near high enough." She answers anyway, even after the shot. It's a complicated question with an answer that maybe only came out with part of the information. "If you ever hear anybody doesn't work here askin after me, heads up, yeah?" She is slow to break that contact he initiated. Her hand wanders across his ribs, palm flattening there for a minute. She leans in a little bit more. She looks him in the eye, studying those pretty blue irises for a minute in the darkened bar. "I wanna know some more of your secrets, baby. You think you wanna tell me here?"

At first, Callum expects no answer to come when she downs that shot, but once she starts speaking? A brow quirks up, the silent thought of 'both?' clearly read even in that subtle bit of his expression. But then he reaches out, plucking up that shot that is the fireball, offering it up in a gestured toast before its tossed back with a hiss of breath at the end. "Fuck." With a thunk, the upturned glass slaps back down on the table. "For me, back home? Avoidin' the cops. Prolly can figure out why. We ain't got a lot of friendly relations between one another. But mostly, its just the memories I don't want."

In closer his head matches her own, nearly coming to brush nose to nose as he murmurs softly, "What makes you think if you take me outta here, we are gunna be doing any talking?" A hand reaches out, fingers threading through one of the loops of her jeans to give a tug closer. "You want to know? Make it worth my time, darlin. I'm listening." Those blue eyes remain unwavering from her own, his voice having dropped down to a soft murmur. It's his other hand that stretches out along the table, fingers curling around another shot to hold onto, though its left planted squarely upon that wooden top.

King winces when Callum sucks back the fireball. She's had that more than once and regretted it every time. A normal person woulda just paid for those and sent them back, but: "When you say '12 of whatever' and you get 12 of whatever, you can't exactly bitch and send it back. Apologies to your mouth. Very Christmasy though." Cinnamon.

"Small town cops are either chillest of the chill or borderline lookin for a foundation to hold up," King agrees, without any hesitation on that one. "Oof. Me and my bad boy habit." She shakes her head as if lamenting that when clearly she's still got a hand sliding across his ribs to cross the small of his back and dip into his back pocket.

"Maybe you didn't notice," King says, right to Callum's mouth, "But I can talk through just about anything." She's talking, but her attention has wandered more to him than whatever thoughts are begging to come out asking him more questions. She falls silent for a few heartbeats, then more, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against hers, that hand in his pocket, and that little bit of challenge that seems always in his eyes, if not his posture. "You barterin' with me right now?" That's barely above a whisper, and it comes very late to the party.

"Told you I wasn't no gentleman." Comes Callum's unsympathetic response about her bad boy habit, unabashedly offering a nonchalant shrug to match those words. "They never liked me. Bad shit happened, couldn't get me on what they really wanted, so found other shit." Vague, but at least something a bit more as to what could have happened.

"Talkin' and thinkin' bout what your saying are two different things, darling." A smile graces those lips, faint as it is, and one hand lifts from the loops of her belt to tuck into the hem of those jeans, bringing bare knuckles to brush against the flesh of her stomach. It's used to tug them even closer, were such a thing possible, his head dipping down just a touch to draw in closer. "You opened the door. I'm just walkin through. Not hearing any bids though. Thinking twice about it already?" Those words come with that dry rasp of humor, his head tipping just slightly to one side to peer at her.

"Tale as old as time, I guess," King says. She doesn't ask for specifics. That conversion is one has to come up organically, and only if he starts it. There's some limits to what gets said in a game, maybe. Some days, there's limits. "Don't figure we quite know each other well enough to say where all our bodies are buried." She smiles at that, a slow, creeping little smile. "You was much of a gentleman, I wouldn't have my hand in your back pocket right now. Much less be pressed against you knees to tits."

"Only time I ever think twice about something involves a man with the look you got in your eyes right now? I double down and somebody's late gettin' home." She leans in a fraction more, which is just enough to put their mouths in contact, her lips soft and a little tart thanks to whatever brand of lipstick she's wearing. This one doesn't smear off either, but there's really no telling till there's kissing involved. She makes a sound because his mouth is still spicy after that fireball, so unless he catches her and pulls her back in, that kiss is brief. "Drink somethin' else—"

Darts, though? What darts?

"Can never figure out if I play the Beauty or the Beast." comes the monotone reply from Callum, that hand in her jeans keeping her tugged up close. His head shifts just a touch one way and then another when she comes in close, a bit of work before that kiss is claimed, offered up without reservation. "Only if it isn't your home we aren't goin' to first." The barest of smiles comes from him, before a gentle tsk leaves his mouth, tongue coming out to click against his teeth. "What, can't handle the heat, darlin? All right,"

His free hand reaches out to pluck up a shot, one that is darker of color and downs it, his upper body leaning back to create just enough distance for the glass to be lifted up to his lips. A grimace comes, an exhalation with a hiss, and then the clunk of it returning to the table. But there? It doesn't stop. Another of those left is taken up, and this one is held out to her, one dark brow arching upwards in a questioning look. "Whats good for the goose..." Or so the saying goes.

"Beasts can be beautiful well as any lady looking for a walk on the wild side," King says against his skin, head turned a little in the kiss to speak to the corner of his mouth. She tips back just enough to look him in the eye while he's also mostly in focus. "You ever show up in smudged eyeliner and leather, best be on a night off."

"I can, I'd just rather enjoy the taste and besides." She drop her gaze to his mouth to watch him swallow. "That puts you ahead of me again." And then he's handily picking up another to offer to her. She reaches up between them to take the shot glass. "All you ever have to do is ask." She takes it from his fingertips and tips her head back, without checking to see what it is she might be drinking. Down it goes and the muscles in the column of her throat work to swallow it. "Mm." She takes a breath after, air cold against the burn, but doesn't cough or grimace on that one. "We still playin'?"

"Shit, you say the sweetest things." Callum deadpans after the comment of beasts being beautiful. A soft scoff comes from him, his head shaking back and fourth for a moment, "Nah. No eyeliner. Now leather..." He just lets that thought trail off, and then those fingers uncurl from her jeans, leaning in oh so close. "Course we are, darlin." Before he steps away, his other hand curling about a dart to pick it up. It's a bit slower of a walk, more concentration needed to not sway, eyes squinting as he sizes up the board.

His hand lifts up, a small wobble of the shaft as fingers nearly fumble it before they right their grip. The toss is a bit more arced than normal, but it still manages to find the board, if closer to the outer edge than the bullseye. "Your turn." He takes just a step away, keeping close to the line. Close enough he's just a half an arms length away while he waits.

King glances down his face and says, "You should try the smudged eyeliner. Against blue eyes and long lashes? Deadly combination." She mms and lifts her shoulder in a little shrug. "Our loss." She mmhms and watches him move to throw again. This time, she reaches for a dart, fingertip brushing over the shaft of the pointy little weapon. She glances at what's left of the shots, because she lost count already, and she looks back just in time to see Callum throw.

She steps up to the line, and she lifts her arm. She glances over at Callum, so close this time. Closer than he was last time she threw. Is it a little distracting? She glances back again, so maybe, yes. "Seems like an archer," she says, "So the release is different from the throw. I wasn't sure I could keep up on this game..." As it turns out, her throw's not much better, landing inches from his on the outer ring above. She looked at his dart right before she tossed hers, though.

"Well, shit." She looks at the table. "Seems like that's both of us again." She doesn't move to the table right away, though. First she turns to Callum, "Shoulda set stakes. I work better under pressure."

He isn't so quick to turn back to the table, a step taken towards the dart board, eyes narrowing. "Nope. That is a win for me." His is indeed a bit closer (2 successes to 1!), a hand lifting to extend a finger to show her just what he's looking at. "Unless your already tappin out and taking the shot instead of the question."

There isn't many of those shots left by this point given the extras they have had, and with a thud of boots he comes back over, giving a gentle bump into King with an arm extending out to wrap around her waist, tucking her in closer. "And just what stakes would you have set to create pressure?" Dry but curious, it isn't a teasing thing but true sincerity as he considers just what the wager could have been.

"The question." This one he is weighing far more in his mind, those eyes watching that lovely face as he considers. "What is the thing you dread the most when dating someone?"

King glances back at the board. ".. So it is." She clears her throat softly and shakes her head. "Nope, I don't back down before you even get to asking." Her smile is amused at that, and she watches Callum to see what it is he'll choose as a question to ask on that round win. She reaches up to brush her fingers along the inked skin of her throat, dragging them through her hair. "Hm." She thinks on that and glances down at the floor, but only briefly.

She must be thinking about that actual question, not the stakes thing, because when she answers, she says, "That I'll do something stupid like actually develop an addiction and they'll just fuck off in the night." She meets Callum's gaze before she continues. "Or maybe worse. They'll stay and change, and then I have to be the one." Her hand shifts at her hip, somewhere between reaching for a drink and sliding them into her pockets. There's the faintest ripple in her posture, but ultimately she answers that without much of a blip. "You?"

There is a knowing look in Callum's gaze when she says she won't back down so easily, and that arm around her waist tugs, drawing her in closer to nestle as he listens. No rush for the answer, just those pale blue eyes settled on her face, watching her hand as it comes and goes. A small dip of his head comes in understanding for her thoughts, and a soft murmur accompanies it, "Sounds like lessons learned from experience."

The question back to him is expected; it was part of the rules, after all. "Can't say relationships is something I've done much of at all." Prison, for one, however long ago that had been. His other hand reaches to her closest wrist as those hands seem uncertain which way they want to go, lifting it up to drape over his shoulder instead, if she allows. "Between personality, history, upbringing... sorta always go in figuring its just a matter of time before it burns down."

"Mm," King agrees with his assessment. "Yeah, and um." She slides an arm around his neck when Callum gives even a little prompting, draping it there. Her lips part slightly, a soft intake of breath as she settles in close. When given the opportunity to touch Callum, she does it. "The ground in rural Kentucky's real hard in the best of seasons. Clay soil, you know? Makes putting some stuff to bed a little bit more effort than you'd expect." She smiles, a flicker of something at that. Is she kidding? Is that amusement or not. Hard to say which it is, but something about her turns a little more serious at that line of thought or questioning. Doesn't mean she pulls away, though. Nope, they may be largely motionless, standing nearby the darts, but that doesn't mean this isn't a little bit of a dance.

"You know the odds are in your favor there. Because usually it does, or somebody finds out they got in a little deep with somethin they weren't ready to," she shrugs one shoulder, pausing. "And there's just some people out there just get off on the fire." Her other arm joins the first.

"I think I maybe got a couple years on you, little more experience in the ups and downs of tangling up." She leans in a little more. "You ask me that for any particular reason?"

"Some things ain't worth burying." Comes his murmured response, not an ounce of even that dry humor in it. It's a half step, a small jostling of bodies to meld into a partial pivot as that dance of limbs continue. His left shoulder lifts into a faint shrug, clearly not bothered by the implications, meant or not by those words of the woman. "Shit. Didn't do no dating in the clink. Missed out on the whole wild early twenties." Now that gets the dry, macabre tone of the man to cone flickering to life once more.

"Don't et off on the fire. More just shit always seems to burn." As that last question comes, one brow arches upwards, but in he leans closer, until finally his forehead bumps lightly against her own. "Just getting a feel for you, Kentucky. Think I might ask you out on a date someday." A quirk of one corner of his mouth comes upwards, another small halfstep taken, this one drawing them closer back to their table.

"You ready to get the fuck outta here, or you planning on starting a brawl first."

"My mammaw taught me to bury my problems an' my feelings too," King says. "I guess it's a hard habit to break, things come to violence and finality." She hmms. "Shame you didn't. Woulda made for some interesting stories you could tell me in the dark." She grins at that and says, "Well, sounds like you got a little catching up to do. That why you took one look at me and tried to hard to get my number?"

Mmm. The sounds is deep in her throat, and when she speaks again, it's with a press of a very light kiss to his lips. "You let me know you get up the confidence to take me out on a date somewhere. Might even wear somethin' nice for you." She sucks the air through her teeth in a little chiding sound at his question. "Baby, if I wanted to start a brawl, I'd be drinkin' beer." Like that should be obvious. "My interest and focus has entirely shifted from a game of darts to somethin' else. Let's go on and leave outta here. You can see me to bed."