vulture .

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Holden Cohen sits outside a dumpy Los Angeles bar with his head tipped back and a cigarette tucked between pressed lips. At eleven in the morning Holden is already craving the murky buzz of alcohol in his head, something to bring him back a couple notches from the stress of the day. He had just met with some bogus hippie vegan woman about selling his prints through her line, as her one million instagram followers were awfully tempting when it came to bringing buyers into The Goblin. But Holden's conscience had gotten the better of him and the fear of being a complete phony was worse than that of being unsuccessful. He had softly and passive aggressively told the bogus hippie vegan where to put her offer. And now he was here, a random downtown LA bar, in the company of toothless locals and woman that smelt like they swam in cheap perfume. Holden folds one leg over the other, and lifts his hat from his head, running his fingers through longish black hair. Earlier he had combed back his hair, an attempt at looking somewhat professional. Of course after seeing the hippie woman he'd lost of his ambition and it was now falling all sorts of directions. He lifts the front legs of the chair off the ground and leans back unsteadily. Muddy eyes stare at the clear blue of the sky, the giant yellow ray of sun is so strong at this time that his eyes become teary as he strains to look up. “Here you are,” a chipper voice comes from nowhere and he eases the legs of the chair back on the ground. As he blinks, his vision is interrupted by strobes of black, only disappearing when he blinks them away. The smell of french fries wafts into his nostrils, and as he pulls the hat backwards onto his year he sees the young curly haired woman lowering a tall pint of beer. “Ah, thanks,” he gives her a grateful smiles and her cute head bobs as she turns away from him. The cold splash of beer against his throat is well worth the fifteen minute wait. He presses deep into his chair, propping wayfarers onto his face as he alternates between sips of beer and french fries smothered in ketchup. He is so deep in his blank daydreams that he doesn't noticed when familiar head float by. .................... notes: THIS IS TRASH TOTAL TRASH music: documentary now

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LA has given her a tan deeper than she had ever thought possible, the month she spent in it well underway, but not nearly over. At eleven in the morning, she shouldn't have been as tipsy as she was, but Kate had developed a taste for day drinking and Ezra hadn't tried at all to curb the habit. Instead, he'd actually taken the effort to encourage it. The west coast had brought out the fun in her, made her forget the east and the responsibility it held, and had allowed her to let her hair down for a while. Although perhaps unhealthy in some regards, her month with Ezra was exactly what the undergraduate had needed, even if she'd given it a second, third, and fourth thought. The sun is high and bright as mornings in LA often are. She is grinning almost stupidly, an outward picture of happy as she leans against the bar with a wad of cash pressed into her palm, her phone vibrating wildly in the pocket of her jean shorts as a flurry of texts are received. Her bare arms are pressed to the mohagony, one strap of her tank top sliding down her shoulder. She'd wanted to get out on her own for the day, even if it meant being alone in a bar before midday. Kate had spent so much time braiding Sloane's hair, getting high on Ezra's couch, and mingled with people of varying acquaintances that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up lonely. Playful and sugary sweet to her core, there was a part of her that longed for a few moments where she could retreat. As patient and loving as Kate Coppola could be, she had a nasty habit of forgetting she was an introvert until the anxiousness of it all caught up with her. The bartender pushes a light beer across the bar and she trades him with money. Kate doesn't bother to fix her strap as she stands, pulling her phone out of her pocket to respond as she walks away. She'd done an awful good job of running away, as that was the true purpose of leaving New York to begin with. But like most things, everything she'd left would be waiting when she returned, still as present as ever. Thumb flying over a half written text, the young woman doesn't see as she bumps into someone's table, only smells the cigarette smoke as she gets too close. Like she's touched a hot iron, the young woman recoils slightly, apologies half spilling from her mouth as the beer trickles down her wrist. "Oh gosh! I'm so so-...." The spill drips down onto her bare thighs as she stands with wide eyes. Her stomach drops. Her lip quivers. "Uh, hey Holden." ......................... notes: no mine is crap music: loving someone - the 1975

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Coming to Los Angeles when he had just come home from New York was the last thing Holden wanted to do. Tired and drained for a highly stressful fiasco around the big apple, if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't have to hop on a plane and could very well make a mini road trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles he wouldn't have even thought about it. Something about flights and being around constant crowds of people really upped his anxiety; the overwhelming chatter and pushy Americans urged clenched fists and a tight jaw. If he was being completely honest with himself, the small getaway had left room for him to clear his head, which was so muddled with self-judgment as well as echoing criticism from his peers. Chucking a few articles in his black range rover and letting his dog sit shotgun, the six hour journey into Los Angeles lifted a weight off his shoulder. Sophia's massive head plops onto Holden's lap, the shepherd's oval eyes follow his hand as he lifts a french fry to his mouth. “Sit,” and she does, her haunches settling to the concrete, giant mouth opening to catch the salty treat. Holden's tattooed hand gives her a scratch on her dark head. The oversized dog had become his chosen companion for everything he did, the love of his life was something he constantly referred to her as. Much to Zadie's disliking, he would often choose the company of his dog rather than her. Holden sets his beer on the table and once again tilts his head to gaze upward. Through tinted glasses he watches a single cloud drift across the robin's egg sky. He feels the vibration of the table, the splash of cold beer hits his leg and the dog lets out an excited bark. The apology that follows is all too familiar, and it causes him to avert his eyes. Furrowing thick brows, he lifts his glasses from his freckled nose and props them on his head. The dog makes up for his speechlessness by bounding over with her tail wagging and circling the girl while licking beer from her tanned legs. “Hey Katie,” his voice is laced with confusion, “pretty sure Lady Lib is that way,” he nods his head to the right and manages a crooked grin. “You with anyone?” he gestures to the seat across from him. .................... notes: v bad. added dog, bc dogs break tension. music: interpol

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There is a constant awkwardness to Katie's movements one usually cannot put a finger on, whether that be her lanky figure, her crippling self-doubt, or something else entirely. It never goes away, really, only when she isn't sober, and even then the difference is marginal. When she is uncomfortable, it seems to multiply tenfold, as if she is wearing her oddity like a blanket, wrapping herself up until she can't be recognized. Thrust into a situation like the one she is in, Katie chews on her bottom lip, her fingers tight against the cold glass. If it had been anyone else she'd spilled beer on, she'd have been doing her best to mop it up and perhaps would have even bought them another one. But instead she stands frozen, torn between her instincts to fix what she had caused, and to get out of it all as fast as possible. This is Holden, and if the rawness had gone slinking away into the LA sun, she was certain that any moment it wouldn't be far behind her. The dog's rough tongue laps at the beer on her legs, and Kate forgets the dark haired man in front of her. In a fluid movement, she sets down her beer on the table she'd just jostled and sunk down to eye level with the dog. "Hi, pretty girl! Hi!" Her hands fold against the shepherd's ears, scratching behind them in the way she knew dogs to like. "I've missed you, little baby." She puts a kiss on the animal's furry head, happy to be able to give something affection. When Kate rises, she stands a little straighter, more rigid, fitting herself into the appropriate narrative of a girl who is not longer heartbroken, who is over it, who never really cared that much anyway. Her hand comes up to pass through her hair. "Yeah, I know. I've been here since the end of June." The dog is still circling her as Katie's gaze moves to the chair Holden points to. She is hesitant to take it, a clear emotion on her face. Without moving in one direction or the other she turns back to the boy, registering each of his details and holding them dear. She is, of course, uncertain of when she will see him again. Picking her beer up from the table, she takes a large gulp whose only purpose was for self-medication. "Um, no. I'm just here! You know, just trying to get some me time in." She cocks her head to the right and realizes she's spilled his beer too. "I'm so sorry. Can I get you a top off? What were you drinking? Did I get any on your fries? I can get some more! Here, let me find someone." She puts her clutch down on the table too, craning her neck for a waitress. "Are you here with anyone?" ......................... notes: i luv dog and awkward bbies. music: work from home - fifth harmony

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Pilsner laps onto the wooden table as the table is nudged, the golden liquid sloshing within it's glass confides and bubbling off the sides in frothy consistency. One hand grabs his carton of cigarettes, a lighter and Ray Bans, stacking them at the left edge of the table. While his dominant hand catches the rocking pint glass and forces it to settle, he resists an small urge to chug half of it. His amber eyes watch as Sophia circles around the girl's small frame, the big dog pressing her weight into her as she makes laps. Her bubblegum pink tongue hands from her massive jowls in almost a smile and her ears press back. Holden can't help but think how he wished people could be more like dogs, wearing their emotions so easily and honestly. “I think she missed you too,” he fiddles with the carton of Camels, thumb tearing away at the cardboard. While he is shocked to see her, it's not obvious. Unlike his dog, he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve. His movements are very soft and casual, his fingers finally prying the lid of he camels open and lifting a cigarette out of it. “Ah,” he raises an eyebrow and pokes the cigarette behind his ear. “Staying with Ezra, are you?” his brothers name is heavy on his tongue and heart, the weight of it makes it difficult to resist lighting the loaded cigarette. “Soph,” he looks at the dog and then looks to the ground, she sheepishly moves back to his side and lays down. “Fuck no,” he grabs the beer and takes a sip of it, it's slightly flatter than it was two minutes ago. “It's fine, honest, have a seat.” Folding his hands behind his neck, he settles back into the chair. “Just the dog... drove up for the weekend for some work stuff,” he examines her face, her familiar sadness makes his stomach turn. “Didn't work out, so we're just spending the rest of the day here, probably go down to the beach later.” He takes another slug of beer and looks down at his fries, a tan hand pushing them across the table to her. “Here, hardly touched them.” .................... notes: awko taco music: trampled by turtles

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A particular thrill runs down Katie's spine each time another word leaves him, reassuring her that he isn't an illusion and that he doesn't plan on getting up and leaving. She had envisioned a few times what their first encounter might have been like after their falling out, but her imagination had always lead her to believe it would be more heart breaking than this. Perhaps he'd have ignored her, or communicated very briefly that he wanted nothing to do with her. But here he sits, hair slick under a hat, looking as careless as ever. In some ways, she is relieved by this. In others, she can't understand how it could be so seemingly easy for him. That was the only point of being in LA: to get over it. The brunette flushes slightly at his words about Sophie, letting a soft hand drag through her fur as she continues to look around for a waitress. At the mention of his younger brother, Kate stops what she is doing, turning a tomato red that begins at her ears and slowly makes it's way down her collar bones. She goes a bit rigid, but just like his dog she is an open book. The undergraduate is embarrassed, mostly, because she feels as though she has to justify every time she is with one or the other. It's a ridiculous idea, of course, forged from guilt on her part than judgement on anyone else. An only child and as attached as she was to their history, being a Cohen was the only thing she had ever really wanted to be. "Yeah, " she says, "with Ezra." She relaxes only slightly now that she doesn't have to be on guard for his entourage. The muscles in her shoulders let go of their tension and she slowly pulls out the chair from the table to perch upon it, first with a bit of her weight and then a little more. "Okay, okay. I won't." She lifts her own drink, taking more sips like Holden wished he'd had. When Kate puts it down, the glass is half full. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it wasn't all a waste of time." Her face brightens slightly at the mention of the beach, but she reigns it in moments after it crosses her face, scolding herself inwardly that it wasn't an invitation. "Will you surf? Is it a busy beach?" At the offer of fries she shakes her head, pushes them back. A habit she learned from her time on Instagram. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take a cigarette if you can spare an extra." Kate leans back in her chair, tips her already bronzed face to the sun. "How have you been? I'm assuming you hated New York? Maybe you loved it. How's Zadie?" ......................... notes: this is garbage i'm so sorry.

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Holden rolls his cigarette case within his hand, he feels unable to grasp the ridiculousness of the situation. He is caught between wanting to roll his eyes and laugh hysterically, or cracking his inked knuckles to feel some sort of release. He was assuming that Kate was a runaway, as when he spoke to her last she was running from Los Angeles. She had obviously not made it back home to New York. Had he been the cause of this? Then there was Holden, who had left San Francisco to avoid he pressing stress of his business and the reality he was living in right now. Even if his vacation was only for two days, it gave him a fresh sight to see and a new page to focus on. Wasn't it ironic that they were both sitting across from each other in the very place they thought was a safe zone? Terribly ironic that they are also the cause of each others' stress. Kate's flushing causes him to smirk. He is cool with his emotions and not phased by her answer. He doesn't answer her and turns his smirk to the table, his fingers push his shades back on top of his nose. He doesn't mind that she's here with Ezra, it wouldn't make sense for him to pitch against Ezra when Katie had been closer with his brother to begin with. The hurt that ebbs at his chest is from the estrangement that had come after their father's conviction, Kate is blameless. His face is a bit empty, but there is a slight warmth to his skin and a curve in his lip that keeps him looking hollow. He cleans off some more of his beer and the bitterness sits ripe on his tongue. Through shaded eyes he watches as she relaxes, her childlike face eases it's tension and her body gets comfortable in her surroundings. “In some way, but nah, it was a good drive,” Holden grabs the cigarette from behind his ear and proceeds to light it. Hand waves away the smoke, eyes picking up her sudden perkiness at the mention of his plans. He thinks to invite her but bites his tongue. “No, I'm pretty tired, didn't bring my board either.. we'll probably just bake a bit, work on our tan,” he turns his forearms to show her his slight tan. At her request of a cigarette he raises a brow, debating whether to tell her not to be a dumbass or just ignore her all together. Instead he decides on neither, sliding the box over to her and watching her with interest. “Been fine, New York was fine.. Zadie, also fine. You?” .................... notes: i'm SO sorry. this hxc sux.

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"Fine, fine, fine! Everything is fine!" She sings the words out, buzzing only with two, or maybe it was three, of the beers she'd already had. This is the answer she gives when things are most certainly not fine. A habit she'd picked up from her own desperate need for privacy. For a girl that meets her emotions head on, there were many she still fights to suppress. The initial shock of him is wearing away, though she cannot help but want to laugh in the moments directly after wanting to cry. She has been trying to get away from believing in fate, in believing people belonged together, that life was a series of fucked up and wonderful coincidences, but she finds it awfully hard to reject the notion that some things were just meant to be, especially as Katie sits in front of him. Although she and Ezra started out together, that was not the way she sees things now. The problem with Ezra is that he was around when times were light and good, when they were surface and material. But as things came unglued in the years prior, Katie found herself realizing that he'd never quite been fit to handle the person she would become and as such, took solace in the fact that Holden could. Kate watches his face through her almost bleary eyes, resisting all urges to reach across and touch him as he smirks. Her own grin cracks open her mouth like an egg, a sweetness erasing whatever acidity she has in her manner. She aches for things to be easy; when she decides for them to be, they suddenly are. Holden flicks the carton of cigarettes towards her, and she meets his eye for a moment before she plucks one out. Her innocence was not so much in what she dabbled but instead in what she wanted to give to the world. While she is a firm believer in love and kindness being a cure for all, it didn't mean she rejected all mischief. Her eyes watch his forearms as he shows them off to her, and she holds out one arm with the unlit cigarette dangling between her fingers. Flush to his, she compares to find that her skin is still darker. Her eyes flick to meet Holden's again. "You're catching up." A skinny hand, nails painted a butter yellow, digs around in the pocket of her jean shorts. From it, she produces a lighter which she holds to the end of the cigarette and takes a drag. "I'm feeling some shots. Yager? Rum? Tequila is my poison." ......................... notes: I LIKED URS

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Holden listens as she knits words together cheerily, all with this cheery little smile tucked into her features. Often he forgets how pretty she actually is. Not hot, but genuinely pretty like a Monet floral painting hanging within the walls of The Louvre. He has changed momentous amounts, his features have become narrower and grittier. His body more toned and adorned with tattoos. His hair is of constant change, somethings longer than shorter or vice versa. Kate has hardly changed since he's known her, she has been scarred plenty but those lie on the inside. Her facial structure holds the same innocence and baby fat, she still holds that little beauty mark which he swore was chocolate for the first year of their acquaintance. Her body is petite, but has filled out womanly curves. Her hair is long and chocolatey, still just as much of a virgin in colour as it was when she was a teenager. If you compared pictures of teenage Kate to young adult Kate, it wouldn't be difficult to identify them both as the real Kate Coppola. “Fine, fine, fine,” he mocks her with his voice and his hands, inhaling his cigarette with his eyes closed and tipping his head to exhale smoke circles. He taps his hand, craving the comfort of his dog. She resumes her head on his lap and he feeds her a cold french fry, his hand cupping her massive head and stroking her softly. Holden watches as Kate slips a cigarette from the case, his eyes are curious as they always are when she does something so far from her image. He laughs at the difference of their arms, his tan is more of a reddish brown while hers is a genuine bronze. As he pulls his arms back he catches his beer and takes another sip. “Nah,” he shakes his head at the mention of harder liquor. It's a rare occasion when he doesn't want to get completely obliterated. He catches the eyes of his waitress and taps his beer, then holds up two fingers. “You can get shitfaced if you want, but I have to be back in San Francisco for noon tomorrow,” he winced jokingly and dusts off his cigarette onto the concrete. “What are you doing out here?” he questions, a bit more accusingly than he means to. “You were in New York last time we spoke, sounded like you were pretty happy to get away from LA.” He cleans off his beer just in time for the waitress to drop two on the table, “one for you,” he pushes toward Kate. “Why are you here, Katie?” .................... notes: poop music: the black keys

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She holds a vivid memory of a young, lanky Holden with the same reddish brown tan. She sees the back of his neck, his shoulders hunched and his knees bent as she comes up behind him in his backyard. He's looking into the grass at something, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. She recalls the wind rustling his dark hair over his forehead as he throws an arm out to stop her from passing him, the insides of his knees much whiter and cleaner than the front, which were often dirty and bloody and in need of patching. He'd caught the floral cotton of her dress in his palm. A touch she hadn't recognized until years later when he lifted a similar frock away from her frame. There's a snake in the grass, he'd said. Watch where you step. Holden mocks her and Kacey raises a brow. Smoke filters lazily from the tip of the cigarette, and she found herself wishing they were rose. The flavor doesn't bother her, and she exhales through her nose, watching him with a slight gap in her lips as he speaks. She rolls her eyes at his rejection, her bony shoulders almost meeting her ears as she shrugs. "Suit your responsible self, Cohen. It's no fun to do shots alone." she grins. But his denial is met with the order of another beer, so she wouldn't consider it a denial altogether. She lifts the now warmer glass to her lips, the sun beating down on her already hot shoulders. This is not a type of sun New York ever got. The beer drains past her lips, and she finishes it, replacing the glass on the table. His directness is something she is used to, in the way he questions and in the way he demands things. She'd been all over the place lately, in a frenzy to get away and to get over him. "Had to get out of New York. Had some time to kill. Thought it would be appropriate to enjoy a vacation. It's been awhile since I've been drunk with people my own age. Little Cohen seemed like the best person for a bit of fun." The pint scrapes across the table and Sophie perks an ear. Katie turns her attention to the dog for a moment, watching Holden's tattooed had trace lazy, loving strokes across the animal's head. Those same hands, at one time, played a similar rhythm up her own ribs. A touch she missed the most. "As president of your fan club, I'm here impeaching myself. Getting over you." ......................... notes: i luv them. music: PROPERTY BROTHERS.

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Holden holds his mask of comfort, watching as Kate fits hers on. His eyes seldom leave Kate, as he takes in her ageless face. The shock of seeing her drifts down the length of his arms and to the tips of his fingers, which he busies with darts and alcohol. He could never pinpoint how he felt about her, he chews on the flesh of his cheek as he narrows his eyes on her. Kate Coppola, who acted so tough but he was sure if he scratched the surface she would break. Her mention her heartbreak makes his own heart sting. He had spent the past couple of weeks numbing himself with drinks and drugs to get away from the reality that was spinning around him. There was Kate, who he felt like unloaded on him constantly and who yearned for pieces of him. Harper, who poked and poked for a reaction, for an explanation he could not give. Then there was Zadie, his logical half. Who was smart, brilliant and kind; whom he felt didn't deserve the turmoil he gave her. This holiday was the first time he'd been mostly sober in a while and right now, he was feeling it. “Ironic,” he blows smoke from the side of his mouth, chucking the remaining cigarette on the ground and crushing it with a leather clad shoe. He continues to stroke the shepherd, whose eyes close as he does so. Kate has shut him up, he feels an air of awkwardness and tries to drown it by finishing off half his pint. Holden pushes the glasses on top of his head, and pushes back into the seat of his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Must be working well for you.” .................... notes: i give you.. NOTHING! music: grey's anatomy lol worst.

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Kate had fallen for Holden by complete and utter accident, or perhaps the aforementioned fate that she felt so deeply existed. The girl had been certain she loved Ezra, at a time when he was sweet and less jaded, yet when it came a time that she needed him, Ezra had trickled away slowly and then ran in the other direction all at once. At the time of his father's arrest, when the darkest, blackest part of her life had been shoved into the light for people to ravage and see, she'd felt nothing but overwhelming guilt. If only she'd told someone about his hands straying from his napkin to the young girl's leg, the way he gripped her knee when she cut into her steak. Or perhaps, the time that he'd cornered her as she'd come out of their upstairs bathroom, gripping the ends of her hair as he told her what a beautiful girl she'd become and touched a thick finger to her collar bone. Or finally, the last time he'd laid his hands on her, when he picked her up from school because Ezra was running late, and he'd slipped his hand under her rear just as she crawled into the truck beside him. Ezra didn't want to hear those things, didn't want to acknowledge that they'd happened. Holden, on the other hand, had only pulled her tighter, covered her body with his, and made certain nobody touched her that way again. His discomfort is palpable but only because she knows him as well as she knows herself. His arms cage in his heart, hiding it from her physically, as if she could see through the ribs in his chest to what it felt inside. She holds no delusions that he felt similar to the way she does, or did, and although she is breathless at the thought of love and wants it more than anything, she wis realistic in understanding when it does not exist. Despite what'd happened between them, when he'd seen all she had said to Harper, this was somehow easy. Bringing it up seems to alarm him more than it does her. She simply takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales with a pouty O, letting it coil into the air as he finishes half his drink in one long pull. "Ironic, sure. But not earth shattering." She has learned to guard herself a little more and takes a leaf out of his book. The tenderness is there, in the heat of her heartbeat and her throat, but she is able to silence it now instead of allowing all of it to come out like word vomit. "You'd be amazed what sunshine and sand and friends and liquor could heal. Though I suppose you're well versed in that, aren't you?" Kate takes a dainty sip of beer, the facade strong and she's certain she's doing a great job of keeping it up, of building it around herself so she can hide. "Honestly, it's fine. I'm over it. You don't have to worry about it anymore." The young woman digs around in her pocket again, this time pulling out a damp clump of money. She can't remember if it was some Ezra gave her, or if she'd taken it out of the ATM. She throws down a twenty on the table, meets Holden's eye. "For the beer." ......................... notes: ehehehe

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Though the unravelling of his family had fine tuned his attitude, his stand-offish personality had certainly always been there. The spunk and silliness of his youth although still there had been outweighed by a bitter tongue and sallow heart. Both making an appearance daily, but always the grittiness taking the wheel. Holden was a shithead of a kid – the principal always called home about him, his sister cried when he stuck gum in her hair or teased her, and he was the king of asshole April Fools jokes. The kinder parts of him – his softness with the family dog, his quickness to react when someone was feeling down or hurt, or the whole of grade five when he would give his lunch to a lower class child – were usually outshone by the negatives. He sends a crooked smirk her way, “big kid Katie, real sassy,” his words are outlined with sarcasm and he reaches behind his head to brace fingers on top of the lid of his hat. “Yea? I'm glad, you've got better things to do with your time than to wait for me,” at that he tips the near full beer into his mouth and cleans the glass of it. “You're missing the sand though,” he mentions, grabbing his wallet and digging out forty bucks to add to her twenty. “I'm going,” grabbing the dogs leash he clips the leather to her collar and stands from his chair, “are you finishing that?” .................... notes: i'm very sorry about how short these are :c music: grey's anatomy still

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"Don't worry, Holdy, I'm just playing along." These are words she says gravely as the sarcasm comes from him. There are times much like this one where she feels as though she is the butt of his joke, a laugh that he shared with everyone else except her. Despite her confidence that they were friends before they were anything else, Kacey could not help but feel like an inadequate little sister. She was not sexy like Lux, or Zadie, or even Harper. Boys did not fall at her feet. She was ordinary, enjoyed ordinary things, and at times she felt lost against everyone else Holden had to compare her to. Her stomach churns at his comment about waiting. Waiting implied that there would be fruit for her labours. Like there was potential. She'd given up hope long ago that that was the case. Holden throws forty dollars down on the table, and Katie rolls her eyes. She snatches it up, lays down more of the money balled in her fist, and lifts the glass to her lips. There is half a beer left, but she manages to down it without too much trouble. When she stands she has to grasp the table top with one hand to keep from swaying. Her eyes are shining, and she follows along behind, quickening her step to tuck the forty dollars back into Holden's front pocket. She chooses the side of him that is preoccupied with the leash of the dog so that he cannot refuse her. "It was supposed to be on me." She says, her voice cracking with her liquor. "And I'm glad we're going to the beach. I wore my bikini under this and I was a bit worried I wouldn't get to show it off." ......................... notes: god this was weak.

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Watching Katie sway he half laughs and puts a grip on her shoulder, tattooed fingers only leaving when he feels she's steady. “Oh yea? Whose budget did you tap into?” he jokes, grabbing the money she folds into his pocket and adding it to the chunk of bills in his wallet. Sophia laps along, her pink tongue hanging from clean white teeth as she brushes against Holden's legs. Holden wraps the leather leash around his hand and adjusts his hat so it sits more deeply on his head. “Almost as though you subconsciously knew you were going to run into me,” he feels the buzz of alcohol - a general silliness that coincides with numb finger tips and toes. As he watches Katie, swaying as she walks in a crooked line, he's realizes he's glad to be the more sober one. On more than one occasion he has to pinch the fabric of her top and pull her away from traffic. Finally he gives in and switches sides with her. With the sun hanging high in a clear blue sky and the temperatures soaring; the weather has brought people to the beach. A dull roar of people chatting and kids screaming make his jaw tighten and bring on a low social anxiety. His hate of large crowds was something that drove him out of New York. “Let's keep walking.. find somewhere quieter,” his strides are long and slow, the dog matches her speed to his though is tense on her leash and desires to move somewhere quicker. Holden flicks his eyes to Katie, “you alright? I think there's a spot up there, see?” .................... notes: this took a hot minute. i do like the music: brooklyn 99