nowhere fast .

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With her long brown locks flying wildly about, Harper tugged her leather jacket more securely around her thin frame, in an effort to at least keep her upper half warm against the biting evening wind. Though it was early June and the beginning of summer, the weather in San Francisco could still be somewhat temperamental. And to Harper's disappointment, it was one of those days. The moment she stepped outside, she was greeted by an early morning drizzle, and by the time she had reached her favorite coffee shop by a quarter to eleven, low humidity fell over the city. The sun had been out most of the day though, and unlike the East Coast, this heat was perfectly bearable. But by the time night fell, strong winds swept through the city, and at two hours to midnight, it didn't look as if it was going to be slowing down any time soon. Though the city was spared a night of fog, the wind and drop in temperature was enough to bring about a natural flush of pink to Harper's cheeks. She tucked her hands deep into her pockets, letting them wiggle about and enjoy the much needed warmth as she slowly made her way down the steep hill from the Ritz-Carlton to California street below, where a line of yellow cabs hugged the curb.      Being back in San Francisco barely a month after her last visit wasn't by choice, and if she could have, Harper would have protested. But when Glenda Bailey asks you to interview an up and coming designer, you say when and where and go without giving any lip. So within the next three hours after that meeting, Harper had packed a weekender and hopped on a six hour flight to SFO. Her flight had been anything but relaxing, as the mere thought of traveling back to where Holden was right now, gave her anxiety. Their last conversation had caused Harper to revert to what she was accustomed to when things got uncomfortable and complicated, and that was ignoring everyone involved. Dealing meant she had to feel, that she had to take back in the flurry of emotions that made her feel weak and vulnerable.. and that sounded the least bit appealing to her. So she quickly embraced repression, busying herself with all things that could distract her, and ignoring any and all attempts Holden made to try and talk with her since. She had embarrassingly let one of her walls down because of him, and now all she wanted to do was build it back up again.      After shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Harper leaned forward a little and told the cab driver where to drop her off. Once he had pulled away from the curb and taken off down California, the anxiety she had felt earlier on, had annoyingly returned. While absently fiddling with the hem of her dress, Harper reminded herself that despite being in the same city as him, she was aware of the places he frequented, and that gave her the advantage she needed. She had gone her entire morning and afternoon without running into him, and this evening was going to be no different. He was never going to know she was here, and she'd be able to go about and enjoy what time she had left in California without a bit of drama. Having reassured herself once more, Harper chatted away with her driver, a middle aged Oaklander with a very apparent penchant for Cool Water Snoop Dog era like cologne, and as his dashboard revealed, Giant's Bobbleheads.      When the cab finally rolled to a stop, and her driver motioned for payment, Harper pulled out her wallet and slipped him the proper amount of cash. Once she set foot on the sidewalk, the wind had surprisingly died down some, so she unzipped her jacket and exposed the curve hugging with plunging neckline black dress that was hidden underneath. She then pulled most of her tousled hair over her left shoulder and began to rummage through her YSL clutch. After a minute or so of carelessly littering old gum wrappers as she sought out her ID, she gave an exasperated sigh when she couldn't find it, and snapped the leather clutch closed. Honestly, if it wasn't one thing today, it was another. The popular whiskey bar that one of her coworkers had recommended she visit was tucked away near the end of the alley, and as she squinted under the dimly lit street lights, she noticed a square shouldered giant of a man, all in black, turning away people who she could only guess, didn't have identification. Another annoyed sigh escaped Harper's lips. This city was really starting to aggravate her.      The brunette's mind soon raced as she thought of what to do. Tomorrow she had a full day ahead of her, with the interview in the morning and then she would be in and out of meetings until late afternoon, before hopping on a late flight back to New York. Today was really her only day to squeeze every bit of fun out of this trip, and her hotel was a good thirty minutes away. Catching a taxi back just to retrieve her driver's license and then head out again wouldn't even be worth it at this time of night. Sucking in a deep breath and then exhaling slowly through her nose, she made up her mind to first try her normal go to when she wanted her way, and carefully prepped her breasts with a few tugs, pokes and a bold tape repositioning. If flirtation didn't work though, then maybe she'd try picking the lock of a back door, probably one that would wind her up in the kitchen or a back room of sorts. From there she was confident enough in her ability to fake sloppily drunk in order to squash any suspicion. A small smirk soon played across Harper's lips as she felt content with her game plans. She then ran her red talons through her hair like a comb, and creating a little more volume here and there with a few quick motions, before applying a touch up coat of her dark red lipstick. Once satisfied with her appearance, and ready to get on with her night, she slipped her lipstick back into her clutch, and made her way towards the bar entrance. Notes // this was awful. so sorry, but wanted to get it up! Tagged // @holden Music // no surprises, radiohead

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There is little that is romantic about the evening. A chemical lure surrounds it, gaping between the hands of the clock and barrelling with time. The night before has left Holden stale, a hangover beats at his stomach and his head, holding him captive until he shakes it lose with a half a teaspoon of cocaine. It shakes him loose, aids his sluggishness, and jolts him from his charcoal bedsheets. It's seven in the evening and while some people's days are drawing to a close, the dark haired man's is beginning a bit late. He feels anchored when he lifts himself from bed. His bones like iron and his muscles tender with fatigue. The white powder has yet to completely settle, only awaking the grogginess of his mind and not conditioning his body for movement. His shoulders ache and there's a kink in the right side of his neck, his mind is fuzzy as he recalls the meaning behind his soreness. Holden draws his tattooed hands to his face and sighs within them. The muscles in his face ache as well. They pinch when he lifts his jaw, and his sockets burn when he rubs his eyes. When he looks in the mirror, he's not surprised to find his reflection with a black eye and crimson stains on the cuff of his grey shirt. “Lonzo,” he nods his head at the German Shepherd who lays on the couch in the living room. Sundance Kid aka Harry Alonzo Longabaugh aka Lonzo is only five months, yet his black hulkish frame takes up almost the entire couch. The dog's pleased to see Holden, moaning as he yawns and beating the air with his tail. When Holden crashes down next to him, Lonzo squirms closer and presses his head on his lap, his leathery nose poking at his owner's arm. Holden massages the scruff of the dog's neck, preoccupying his eyes with the dozens of text messages on his phone. There's a mix of concern and excitement throughout the messages. Laura wants to know if he's okay, he doesn't have the slightest clue who Laura is or how she got his number. Jared thinks he's insane but badass and wants him to come out. Ruby thinks he's a dumbfuck and is going to some whiskey bar at the other end of the city if he wants to join. He feels the pull of temptation, and that pull only becomes stronger as the cocaine eliminates his fatigue. After a shower, a spritz of cologne and a bowl, Holden's as fresh as he'll ever look. His skin is still ashen, the whites of his eyes are mapped with red veins and his socket is painted a shade of orchid. “Fresh” for Holden as it turns out is still pretty rough. At the bar no one seems the pay any mind to it, he is fortunate that the black eye only increases his attractiveness rather than reveal how fucked up he is. Ruby is no where in sight, she must be hiding behind her long bangs in some other whiskey bar, or she's already lost interest and gone home. Both are entirely possible, as Holden's poor with directions and she has the attention span of a small child. Holden decides to make friends with the bartender and drown himself in bourbon. As high as a kite and countless drinks in, he's numb. He's not drunk in a sloppy sense and if you didn't know who he was sober, then you'd never assume him to be drunk. He can still maintain an intelligent conversation, is more charming, but is a bit too relaxed and carries a tremor within his left hand. He also smokes a fuck ton more cigarettes. He is outside having a smoke and taking to some tall blonde when Harper makes her debut. The blonde's talking about how she's just moved to the city, how she's just graduated, how she's thinking about adopting a cat. Holden starts blowing smoke circles boredly and the blonde pauses, “how did you do that?” He only grins boyishly and shrugs, blowing another circle. It takes him a while to notice Harper. He doesn't see her cab pull up and he doesn't see her enter the line up. He only notices when there's a stir within the line and some fuss is made, when a sheet of brown hair fans from the back of a familiar head. Confusion only pricks him for a second, he's too far gone to dwell on the hows or whys for more than a second. “Here,” he shoves a single cigarette into the blonde's hand, “practice.” Holden drifts to the front of the line, he knows this bouncer. They chatted earlier over a cigarette, he's a jazz enthusiast.. you wouldn't guess that by looking at him. “Sven,” the guardian of the gate turns his attention to Holden, “pull me this one favour, Buddy Rich.” The tall German man gives in with a sigh and mutters something about a jamming together as Holden walks past. Once inside the crowded bar, Holden looks over to Harper, offering a slight smile and shaking his head. “Oh, right. You're pissed. Want a drink? Let me get you a drink, lighten you up.” notes // i can't write length worth shit.. so this is shit. music // we can be strong by willy mason

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Luck wasn't on Harper's side tonight, and if she wasn't so stubborn, she could have said to hell with the place and stalked off to enjoy her night elsewhere. But the beast of a bouncer before her, with a nose that looks as if it has been broken and reconfigured one too many times, is testing her. Red nails dig into the skin of her soft palms, but Harper barely feels the sting as she peers up at the male, with eyes narrowing. She can feel the rustling behind her, party goers losing patience with her game. But Harper stays glued to her spot and sighs. "Come on, you're really not going to let me in? Do I honestly look underage to you?" The large man stands his ground, but Harper follows his gaze, which briefly lands on her chest, and she rolls her eyes. Men, so predictable. She soon softens though, her teeth gingerly biting down on her lower lip, prepping herself for a flirty go. But before she can even say a thing, she notices the bouncer's attention pulls to her right.      The familiar voice alone causes a shiver to run down her spine, and with full lips now pulled into a thin line, she chances a look over her shoulder. She does so slowly, hoping she's mistaken, but the figure's arm suddenly stretches out before her, a hand clamping on the giant's shoulder, shaking it warmly, and she notices the familiar black ink twisting around his forearm. They are works of art she'll always remember, distinct markings belonging only to the very person she was hoping to avoid. Eyes roll as he acts Holden chivalrous, and she reluctantly follows behind him into the crowded bar. A childish desire of wanting to trip him suddenly over takes her as they maneuver through the crowd, but it dissipates before she can even indulge once they stop at the counter, and he turns around to smile at her. But Harper can't seem to bring herself to return it, and after finally realizing the obvious, his seems to wane.      He says he knows she's still pissed, which makes her stomach tighten and her jaw to clench for a moment. Manicured nails drum deliberately on the counter as she tries to keep her annoyance in check, before giving a fake smile when he offers to buy her a drink. "That's sweet, I will take a drink, thanks," she says, holding off for now on saying how he owes her much more than a cheap drink. She smiles sweetly at the bartender when he slides her drink across the glazed mahogany counter top and into her open hand. A whiskey sour, simple to start. With eyes finally adjusting to the dim lighting, Harper looks back over at Holden and finally takes interest in his black eye. She quirks a brow before a smirk stretches across her lips. She shakes her head. "Now that's sexy," she says, nodding towards his injury. "Looks fresh too. What'd you do? Try your hand at some manly fist fighting and lose, or simply snort too much coke and walk into the corner of one of many open kitchen cabinets you always forget to close?" she says, before pulling her gaze forward, smirk still present, and taking a long sip of her drink. Notes // lol, i can only write long starters.. so now you get this  Music // serpents, grieves