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To New Beginnings

 
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Glenn Douglas
Adult Wyrm
Adult Wyrm


Joined: 12 Apr 2010
Posts: 206
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Jobs: Gumshoe, Undertaker

22828.58 Silver Crowns

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 28, 2016 9:17 pm    Post subject: To New Beginnings Reply with quote

((Special thanks to Madison Rye for being amazing, as always!))

The Ugly Piper was quiet on a weekday evening when most folk were either just now letting out from their respective daily grinds, or had skipped the bar and gone straight home to wash away the day’s work and forget themselves in the bottom of a bottle that wasn’t watered down and lukewarm. Thus, Glenn Douglas stuck out like a sore thumb. He sat there with his back in the corner of the bar, occupying a chair with his fingers wrapped tight around a glass of rye and a recently opened bottle resting beside his hand. His jacket had been thrown over one of the four chairs and a pack of cigarettes and a lighter sat on the table in front of him. He was scowling at the wood grain of the table and his eyes were narrowing like he was trying to read some fine print hidden away beneath the object’s surface. An ashtray sat in the middle of the table between him and the chair across. In front of that empty chair was an empty glass waiting to be filled. His boot kicked at the chair’s leg just so with the tip of a toe.

“Sometimes you gotta let things go, Douglas,” he said to himself. He checked the phone that sat in his lap and frowned at it, his thumb tapping away for a moment to send a message off to some unknown person.

“Jesus, Pa’. Look at me now,” a wry smile crossed his features and he tilted his head back heavenwards and gazed into the shadows beyond the dusty bar’s rafters. He wondered what his father would make of him now. He wondered if he would be disgusted, disappointed, or proud. Definitely not proud. Glenn had done too much wrong in his life for a man like Arthur Douglas to ever feel anything but cold, withdrawn condemnation for Glenn.

“Joke’s on you,” he said to the ghostly image of his late father as it flashed before his eyes. “I’m still alive.”

It'd been an age, so it felt, since her boots had crossed that line. Between the savage daylight that spilled from outside, always cast perpetually in some bloody haze and the rest of that bar, where Douglas had sat waiting for her, cocky and sure at the counter. She couldn't remember ever visiting again after that night, when he poured her across the floor and confronted her with the past, which like that mucky sun outside, creeping under the door, she had willingly allowed, against her better judgement.

She was thinking of such things, of what her life might have been like if she hadn't allowed him in, as she crossed the bar and towards his table. No hat, no gun, just the boots from that age remained. Beaten at the toes and one of the heels. She wore a plain, modest blouse (bone-white, off-white, never pure) and a pair of jeans that fit well but never too tight. Sitting down, she reached over for one of his cigarettes and his lighter and gave him a look. It was hello. She took a long exhale as she gave the place a scan. "Still a ***." Madison smiled and looked towards him. "Talk to me."
The moment Madison Rye stepped into the bar, Glenn leaned forward and filled that other glass. He nudged it with the tip of his finger and offered her something that looked like a smile and a frown at the same time. He said nothing until she sat, lit that cigarette, and then spoke to him.

“I wanted to talk to you about two things, Madison,” he said soberly. “The first, I wanna get outta the way quick. Rip it off like a band aid or whatever, so, here goes,” he sat up a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor, and said.

“I’m sorry. About the last time we met. I’m sorry for sayin’ the things I said, for givin’ you that ring. For puttin’ you in this place. You’ve made yourself crystal clear, Madison Rye. Know that I don’t aim to interfere with your life anymore.”

"Okay?" Dark brows arched as she took another pull at the cigarette, enjoying the luxury of the vice when it was so rare that she even touched one now. She studied his features critically, as if suspended on the line of what he had said and where he was going with the rest of it. What would be different this time? "I’d... appreciate it if you wouldn't. Be interferin'. I am sorry too, for the things I've been puttin' your way. We ... we don't talk like we should and ... I'm sorry for you returnin' to me, to us to find it was not there. I've been thinkin' about a lot of things and I... never did understand what happened to you. I think, sometimes, things that happen aren't anyone's fault. They happen. Life happens. Death, happens. And we never got to talk. It never was in our stars, for a long, long time." She looked down at the whiskey and saw that she needed it so she took a sip. "And, lastly", waving the glass a little, at her point, "you didn't put me anywhere I didn't willingly step forth into. I came to your hotel room of my own accord. I came because.... I love you and I care about you but I know that those feelin's can't be done much with. Our lives are not in tangent anymore."

"But, you need to be knowin', Douglas, that I am sorry. For the pain... you've felt. Especially after givin' all you did to our shared path. To... the tower. But... it's good we can be havin' this talk now. It's time. It's more than time."

“Look,” he said stiffly. “I don’t want to dwell on any of that right now. You wanna know about the tower, I’ll tell you, after we deal with what’s on our plate in this moment,” he pointed down and dug that index finger into the table. “We got a problem to deal with, and like as I might to say it’s got nothin’ to do with you, we know it does.”

“Leo Ortiz is a *** madman, Madison. And I’m gonna kill him, one way or the other. My old pal Morgan said he’d rounded up some help from some girl, but he’s not sure if she’s gonna be in on things one-hundred percent, you know? And I met this other girl named Kasey who claims the bastard is her great-grandfather, and she’s got the snakeskin to prove it.”

“Things is moving fast around here, Madi. We don’t got the time to sit and play catch up.”
_________________
I go on journeys out of my body and look at my red hands and my mean face and I wonder about that man who's gone so wrong.
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Glenn Douglas
Adult Wyrm
Adult Wyrm


Joined: 12 Apr 2010
Posts: 206
See this user's pet
Jobs: Gumshoe, Undertaker

22828.58 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Wed Sep 28, 2016 9:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"Okay, but ain't this the time to discuss what's been hangin' over heads. You said you wanted to talk, so I'm tryin' to do that." She bristled and sighed a round of smoke, ashing it. "Look." Putting down her glass, disinterestedly. "Douglas, I'm in. I'm in, on all of it. I'll do whatever you're thinkin' you need done and I'll ride with you to the end. It's what I owe you."

“I said I came to talk about two things,” he reminded her. “I said the first, and Leo is the second. I know what I need from you. I need you to round up some people. I wanna get as many eyes on his estate as we can muster. Kasey showed me a place where the security is a little lax, can maybe get a few people set up there on shifts to keep a constant eye on things.”

He paused, drinking his rye, and then he went for the pack of cigarettes. “I’m makin’ a move on the fella who took over in Foley’s stead, when I put that *** in the dirt. I’m gonna take him out too, then I’m gonna take over his operation and use it to get eyes and ears on the inside. I’m gonna need help. Connections. Who can you round up?”

"I spoke to Eli. He's... he's makin' moves, Douglas. He's been pickin' off the coyotes, as I told you before. He's got boys. He'll be in Rhy’Din soon enough. He'll help scout and strategies. It's what he does." She took another drag. "You sayin' you think he needs to be here before the weekend?"
"Also... that ain't talkin. That's tellin' me two things. Talkin' is the sharin' of things." A slight smirk.

“Not this weekend, but soon. Before the end of the next month. Between him and Foley’s gang, I think we’ll have enough manpower in place to make some real moves against Ortiz soon.”

Glenn smirked back, lit up his cigarette, and inhaled. He spoke almost in the same instant he exhaled, his words chased by a billowing cloud of smoke. “You got somethin’ to add to the conversation?”

"Not really. Not if you're happy with how things are." But then she reached down into the pocket of her jeans and produced the pouch. "Other than sayin', I can’t hold onto this. I don't know where to be puttin' it but..." she slid it across. "And, no offence, but that is one ***' ugly ring." She laughed, her smile broad and warm and then she reached out between them to grab his hand. "I ain't good for you anyway."

He snorted and looked at the pouch. "I know, I got awful taste in jewelry on account of the fact that I don't ever wear any," he flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and paused when she touched his hand. He withdrew, neither quick nor hesitating, and picked up the pouch. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Madison Rye," he said, his voice low and absent. He dropped the pouch into the ashtray and flicked some more of the burnt up ends of his cigarette over it. "And the worst, maybe. Time will tell."
"How's Tag?"

Madison squeezed and looked at their hands there on the table. Then, she withdrew hers and looked away. "He's good. I should go. We done here?" She was already rising to her feet.

"We been done a long time," he lifted his glass to her.
She gave him her eyes for a long, long beat and stubbed the cigarette. "Thanks for the drink."

He drew on the table with his smoldering cigarette, letting small bits of ash and charring create short lines in a pattern he didn’t truly recognize, but felt familiar to him. Another drag was taken, then he let the cigarette rest against the pouch and the ring while he sipped at his whiskey before pouring the rest out over the symbol of charred wood and ash.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. The whiskey washed the ash away and left only the faint remains of that image. He stood and grabbed his coat.

Prairie blue eyes watched the image form and dissolve before changing. They grew mournful and distant and then boots were taking her away. There was only silence and dust.
_________________
I go on journeys out of my body and look at my red hands and my mean face and I wonder about that man who's gone so wrong.
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