Night of the Dancing Flame [gideon]

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

Haus De Musik was crowded and extremely disorienting on a Friday night, having hooked a very popular band into performing on stage. Competition in this area of town was always fierce, but Haus not only held its own, it thrived. Every pump of the bass sent those standing by the stage into a frenzy so ear shattering that Oli was tempted to rip their vocal chords out of their throats with his teeth.

It would have been easy.

But he didn’t, and he never would, because Oliver didn’t know how to hurt people even when especially hungry. Instead, he just grew pouty and sulky until someone eventually pulled him out of his reverie and offered a snack. Boom goes the base, boom goes Oli’s eardrums. Then again, the chaos was minimal in comparison to the nightclub down the road. Perspective is everything, or so they say. For Oli, the difference between the two were too trivial to bother with. His head hurt because his ears hurt, and Oliver’s ears hurt because he had yet mastered the art of audio focusing. Everything was much louder and vivid for vampires; something he had learned in school, but certainly didn’t understand like he did now. He could have sympathized back in the day, but never empathized. Last year Oliver had no problem in this scenario. It still wasn’t his scene, but now his friends were beginning to notice the change in his attitude every time he got dragged out in the evening for a night of “partying and debauchery”. “Why is it that Oli never gets completely wrecked like the rest of us? Have another drink!”

Oliver didn’t have the usual boy-next-door friends. His friends discussed the philosophy of existentialism, symbolism as an art form, and “is red really the new black, or is it fashion designers’ attempt at making red a relevant medium?” The same people who, at the same time, drank cheap vodka, did body shots off of each other’s abs, and maintained a war cry of “suck that, motherfuckers!”

The life of a twenty-something, in a nutshell.

Tonight they sat at a table, in a corner in the far left of the building a bit out of sight, yet continued to contribute greatly to the audio level of the room with their shouting. They were a little pretentious that way. One more round of shots and they were out of alcohol, and since Oliver looked to be the only one sober enough to maneuver around the rest of the people in the room, they elected him as the official shot-collector. He gladly got up from the table with a roll of his eyes and headed for the bar, though plenty of people were milled about it. He waited his turn, eventually ordering something for himself instead of his friends. Oliver needed a break, and it was going to take them a good long while to notice that he was still gone, if they ever did through their inebriation. When the young bartender finally nodded his head in his general direction, still multitasking thirty (okay, give or take) different drinks, Oli took that as a sign that he was next in line. “Fuzzy Navel Cocktail,” he ordered, evidently more than okay with ordering what was classified as a “girly drink”. It was an extremely fruity drink and lighter on the booze, which he preferred anyway. He stretched up onto a barstool as soon as one became available, ignoring the giggling and extremely drunk girl sitting next to him he waved at him with her fingers. Not her hand, just her fingers. The drink slid across the counter and Oli grabbed it smoothly, placing the straw in his mouth as he stared off into the abyss.

It was then that he realized just who the bartender was. He had changed a little, but not much. He’d filled out nicely, but he still had that boyish face, just like Oliver. Oli tilted his head to the side as he sucked on the straw, staring directly at Gideon Crumb serving all the customers. Eventually the area began to clear out because the big act was back from their break and ready to perform a new set. Actually, what happened could be more equated with a mass exodus as they all ran (and stumbled) to find a good place at the front of the stage. Oliver didn’t move. He wanted to see how long it would take for Gideon to feel eyes burning into him, and how much longer after that to recognize who they belonged to. It could be a game. The longer he sat there with one hand supporting his lazy head, the more blatantly obvious it was, but that Gideon Crumb was incredibly focused. Oliver took a deeper swallow of his cocktail until it made a loud slurping sound against the ice.

---

tag : gideon

words : 810

notes hi?
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

The only good thing about nights as busy as this were the tips. At least usually. The band that was playing was some sort of Indie...folk...something or another and all of the people that were filling this place were assholes. They didn't know how to tip. Something about being poor, or spending all their money on pretentious clothing, he didn't know. He didn't care. This was why he liked the heavy metal crew so much better. They were few and far between at smaller places like this, but they drank a lot of beer, broke a lot of shit, paid well and stayed to help clean up afterward. Nice bunch of people, even if he didn't much care for the music much. This lot? Tended to lounge around while leaving the dance floor open, doing body shots and taking their time ordering very pretentious drinks with too much vermouth. In his opinion. Not that he was getting paid for his opinion, so he kept his mouth shut and scrambled from one person to the next making drinks as he went. The late night baby sitter charged doubles on weekends, so this was going to really tap him out come end of shift...but tomorrow would be better. It would have to be better.

He could hardly even see their faces as he moved about, like a sea of plaid and newsboy caps, speckled with normal people every so often in between. He shouldn't say that. Shouldn't, even in his head, think of the 'Hispter' lot as anything less than normal. He was just irritated. Sleep deprived. Thinking too much. All of those things added together made for one bad mess. Pushing glass over the counter and mopping up spills with a rag that he had tucked into his pushed up sleeve, his attempt at being innovative and multitasking all in the same fell. It was half working, about half the time. “Fuzzy Navel Cocktail,” Giddy's hand lifted “You got it,” he was refraining from calling any of them 'buddy,' or 'pal' just because they seemed to like that even less than being called nothing at all. Not often a man ordered that drink but who was he to judge. Only thing that Gideon really noticed was the lack of 'ironic' clothing. Would have said something...but saying anything might get him fired in this crowd so he made the drink, and went about his business. Really, the weirdest part about being a bartender wasn't listening to people or having to take orders, it was knowing that you were being watched. Something that shouldn't bother him much, given that he loved to be up on that small little stage any chance that he got to be, maybe because it was more intimate, face to face than being up on stage with the light dividing the people from him.

At least the band was back from wherever they had been, smoking their fancy hookah that was stinking up the back room, or something. Most of the females that had been surrounding the bar, gossiping over something or another left and he had most of the bar stools open again, this was the sort of time that he should have been using to restock the fillers, cut more lemons and oranges, wipe down the counter top. All the little, boring things that just, needed to be done. Instead, his hands rested on the counter top for just a moment, resting, his head lowering as he rolled his head from side to side, letting the joints crack back into a more comfortable position before he started moving again, all at ones. Clearing glasses and putting them in the sink behind his person...and then the slurping of an empty glass...crap on a cracker he should have noticed that. Not that, a person, a whole person still here. Damn...one track minded. His hand lifted to snap and then point to the cup “My bad...can I get you another...” his eyes squinted, trying to remember the drink but there had been so many patrons...the glass should have tipped him off better than that, it was the only one in that shape that had been used tonight....but then he got a better look at the face behind it and his eyes widened, “Oliver?” his smile was near instant, the sort of smile that managed to hide the large bags under his eyes and look not so old, “Well hot dog.” He'd stopped swearing for his daughter...the problem was...he didn't know how to start swearing again.

---

Tag: Oliver
Words: 755
Notes: NAH
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

“My bad...can I get you another...” “If you want,” he said complacently, scrutinizing the glass as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted it there or not. Oli ran the red patterned straw across his lips, back and forth; licking off the last remaining droplets of fruity cocktail. When he was finished (and he certainly took his time), he dropped it back into the glass and pushed it toward Gideon to make it easier for him to clean up. Finally, he had noticed. Well, he could have lasted quite a bit longer at the bar had he been a bit more patient. Oliver thought he could benefit from learning the art of waiting, as he now had what seemed like all the time in the world. All the time in the world. It was a terrible thought, to him. That’s what his manager had said to him when he thought it would persuade Oli to become a vampire. It just goes to show that he really didn’t know Oliver at all, if he thought that was what he wanted.

Recognition. Oliver almost smiled himself. Almost.

His fake blue eyes lightened, at least, and he seemed genuinely pleased that Gideon would remember him and elicit such a positive response. Not everyone felt that way about Oli, believe it or not. Some people sighed when he was in the room (mostly purebloods), but most of them acted excited out of selfish interest. Usually, they wanted something from him. And usually, Oliver gave it to them, even when he could see right through it. Oli was one of those people who didn’t often call other people out on their lies. Gideon was different, or at the very least, he was when they were in school. Oliver could recall half-listening to him as he rambled on about many different subjects, enthusiastic about each new topic discovered. He even managed to get Oli excited about a few things, here and there. Science was really Oli’s forte, so whenever the conversation lingered about there, it really took off. He had missed Gideon the way a child would miss a puppy after it was put down. He thought about him a lot when he had a child and then graduated, but shortly thereafter, stopped thinking about him altogether.

Somehow that felt like a mistake now, looking at him. He was very attractive (but entirely straight in his opinion), and definitely appealed to the senses. “Well hot dog.” Hmmm, he had almost forgotten Giddy’s off the wall sense of humor. “Yes, it is very hot in here,” he sighed somewhat irritably (he was hungry). Not to mention loud. Had he mentioned how loud it was? Much better close to the bar. Oliver’s eyes scanned Gideon’s form and took their time doing it, making no apologies. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” He finally made eye contact with Giddy again, once he stopped obviously undressing him with his eyes. “You may work at a bar, but your demeanor is still very Gideonesque.” Sometimes it was very hard to tell if Oliver meant his statements as a compliment or an insult. If you knew him well enough, you would err on the side of compliment. Oli was actually a very nice guy if you understood him. Craning his neck, he leaned back a bit in his barstool to check out his table in the back. The boys were still over there, drunk as skunks, talking to a couple of girls. He didn’t have to be a lip reader to guess the conversation. Something about “And I’m a model for a living. You’ve probably seen me on the billboard out on 9th street……yes, you’re extremely hot……no, you don’t understand what Oscar Wilde was saying at all; it was a complaint against the masses…….yes, I am a model.” Oli rolled his eyes instinctively, even if they were way over there and he was over here. Safe and sound from the boring conversation, with Gideon. Speaking of, he twisted his body to face Giddy again and leaned his elbows on the counter. He never knew Gideon when he was a vampire, so he wouldn’t have realized just how good he smelled until now. Well, that was unfortunate for him. Maybe he should get another drink after all, to take his mind off of it. “Do you enjoy this job?” He asked it with a rather dubious expression on his face, raising his voice to be heard above the music. Obviously Oliver didn’t understand that the general population often worked somewhere they didn’t like.

---

tag : gideon

words : 759

notes they're both really weird
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

Gideon wasn't the sort to be discouraged easily. He was usually optimistic to a fault. Didn't know the meaning of the word no and tried to tackle problems for far, far long after there was no hope of a solution. Just part of who he was. So whenever Oliver didn't act excited to see him in return, Gideon thought nothing of it. Hardly even noticed that he wasn't smiling the way that Gideon was, or wasn't smiling at all. He didn't take it personally, it wasn't like Oli couldn't get up and remove himself from the bar that Giddy was tethered behind if he suddenly decided that he was done with the conversation, that he no longer was in the mood to talk to somebody from his past. Though, it did seem that he was doing rather well for himself, all things considered. It was a fairly simple outfit that he had on but it was cleaner, pressed better than the others in here and it might have even been fit to him, what was that called, tailoring. Giddy hadn't ever had anything tailored in his life. Well groomed, he stuck out more than Giddy had originally gave him credit for and there was no ignoring the way that some of the others walking past them were turning to look back at him, Oliver, and talking to their friends about him. He couldn't remember if Oliver got that sort of attention back at school or not, he probably did. He just remembered that they got along, and sure, maybe it had almost always been Gideon talking, but that was true about everybody that he was friends with. Giddy was a talker, be could carry on conversations all by himself and well, Oliver had let him. Which made them friends, as far as he was concerned. Just another person that had gotten knocked away over time, life moving on different roads, he supposed.

“Yes, it is very hot in here,” Gideon's smile faded but none from his eyes, leaning on his elbows onto the counter to better see him. Bar tender posture for, it's going to be a minute. A good long minute. “I meant damn,” or something close to it, if he were to swear properly. He hardly even noticed that Oliver was looking him over, didn't think anything of it. Another fault of his, he tended to be rather oblivious. He just figured it was because it had been...Merlin, almost three...four years since he had seen him last, for any length of time? Had he really been out of school for that long? It didn't seem possible. He could feel a door closing in his mind, telling him not to go there, not to think like that, it wouldn't end well if he did. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” “Read my mind,” he agreed, without remarking on the specific amount of time that he had just realized. “You may work at a bar, but your demeanor is still very Gideonesque.” Gideon's head dropped as he laughed, nodding with good humor. “I think that's a good thing. Can't let the man get me down right?” At least he hoped that meant that he was still as tolerable as before. No matter how life had changed him. If it had changed him at all. He took the time that Oliver was leaned backward to snatch up his glass and start to make the drink for him again, a cheap effort to make him stay rather than to go back to whatever group he had come here with, and of course he was here with company.

“I can send something over there, if you want?” More cheap tactics, but he couldn't help himself. They did have drink runners for a reason after all. That way Oli could stay with his own drink, maybe he was crazy, but it didn't look like the tall man was itching to get back to them. Pushing the drink on a fresh napkin and sliding it over to Oliver he resumed his previous position against the bar. Oliver leaned into his drink, well, around it maybe it was just mimicking his posture, and it should have made him uncomfortable, but it just didn't. He noticed that they were closer than normal, but he didn't notice any of the possible implications. Oblivious. “Do you enjoy this job?” Gideon glanced back toward the bottles lining the back wall, and shrugged. “It's not bad, most nights.” good he thought to himself, managed to keep the bitterness out of that even “Some nights are better than others,I mean” he nodded toward the stage, obvious that he didn't much care for this sort of music. Hadn't really answered the question either, but he was moving on. “What about you? Do you like your job?” his brow pinched “What is your job? Something good I'll bet. Not Quidditch...not that you weren't good at it, but that's the one thing that I would have noticed, you know. Can't watch it here but the crowds...” he was rambling... “the crowds tend to keep me abreast of the scores, the draftings,” he smiled weakly, finally realizing that was a lot of words in a short amount of time. “Not the common working class. Is my guess. Am I right?”

---

Tag: Oliver
Words: 884
Notes: NAH
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

“Can’t let the man get me down, right?” The man? Who was the man? Oli nodded his head noncommittally, so subtly that you might wonder as to whether he was agreeing with Gideon or just feeling the beat. “It is a good thing. It would make me sad if the world had ruined you.” Gideon seemed without guile, to Oliver. Truth be told, there weren’t many like Gideon around and those that did existed slowly lost their spirit through the passage of time and negative experience. Maybe they were only twenty-one, but a lot could happen in four years. The two of them were leaning over the counter, practically sharing the same air, but neither seemed to mind. Oliver liked being intimately close with another person; he could always see something there that he missed when he was looking too much at the big picture. He took a sip from his new glass, still shockingly sober and alert. His lips may have lingered on the rim as he sucked down the red liquid, eyes never turning away from Gideon. Oliver was going to continue looking at Gideon until he looked away first, and not a moment sooner.

“It's not bad, most nights.” Oliver wasn’t entirely convinced. It seemed horrible every time he came here. A lot of people in bottle coke glasses shouting orders at you above the noise. Oli’s eyes followed Giddy’s gesture to the live band, having almost forgotten what was playing himself. “Not a fan of the indie music, I take it.” It was more of Oliver’s scene, but not everyone enjoyed it. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, curious about just what Gideon meant by his next comment. “What is the common working class?” There was a common verses an uncommon? Bear in mind that Oliver came from a very politically ambitious pureblooded family. If he was a little unrelateable to the common man, than you know why. Oli looked down at his drink, as if the fuzzy peach nestled on the brim of the glass had the answer he was searching for. He frowned just before his face lit up in a light bulb moment. “Are you the common working class?” Yes, that felt like the right answer. He was getting there, at least.

He listened, unfazed, as Gideon asked him about his line of work and got a little sidetracked at quidditch, and quidditch matches at the music club. He was a talker. Oliver liked that – it allowed him to talk less. “Hmm. I sell clothes.” Which is exactly what he did. He saw no deception in saying it. He modeled clothes yes, but why? To sell them, from his body to yours. He gave a light shrug of his shoulders, as if it were nothing at all. In response to the look on Gideon’s face, Oli felt prompted to offer a little more information. “Clothing, as well as some accessories, scarves, vacations, and other consumer products.” It depended on who he was contracted for at the time, and whether it was a one-time thing or a bigger association.

“Actually, no. They already had a couple rounds. If they-“ But Oliver was cut off as a six foot four, Mediterranean young man with baby smooth skin and rugged features rested an elbow on Oli’s shoulder and grinned at Gideon from across the counter. “You’re misssssssing out on all the action over there, buddy. Unless you’re getting some action here?” He looked between Oliver and Gideon suggestively, a naughty smile in place. “I wassss wondering where our shots were you know? Hi, I’m Stefan, and I’m a model.” Stefan held out his hand for Gideon to shake, but he appeared a little confused about what he was supposed to do with it, and he ended up missing Gideon by several inches. “And this is Oli. Oli likes long walks on the beach and sex in the sand,” he teased, running a hand down the back of Oliver’s neck. Oliver didn’t look the least bit embarrassed, he just snorted in response. “You into that?” He stared pointedly at Giddy, waiting for an answer. “Actually, sex in the sand is close to excruciating. Gideon was about to have someone send over another round of shots, weren’t you? You can manage without me,” he winked, talking soothingly to Stefan like you would a young child. Oli patted his hand, giving him a gentle push to go. Stefan still stood there, prompting Oliver to lock eyes with Gideon and mouth “I’m really sorry” with just a hint of a defeated smile coating it.

---

tag : gideon

words : 760

notes they're both really weird
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

“It is a good thing. It would make me sad if the world had ruined you.” Oliver would be sad? There was no change in Gideon's expression, but that seemed different to him. To his recollection, Oliver hadn't said much about feelings, but he might not mean anything by the comment whatsoever. People said that, that was a thing that people said, wasn't it? No reason to dwell on it. The world hadn't ruined him, tried a few times, but he was still standing. Maybe not standing as highly as he might have liked, but , standing none the less. He might only be twenty-one, but he had lived through a lot more than a lot of people, so far and he was absolutely sure that he was going to live through a hell of a lot more. Kristen hitting her teens, for example. He was trying to compare all things negative to that experience, nothing could be worse than that, from what he had heard. Most of all if she grew up looking anything like her mother. Wherever she was now.

The point was that he liked Oliver, had always liked his company, and now that he was seeing him again, he wasn't sure how they had ever stopped talking. Perhaps it was strange, Oliver had said as much before, that Gideon was so comfortable around him, but he was. “Not a fan of the indie music, I take it.” He was staring, Gideon realized, that he was staring, because it took him a long moment to remove his eyes and look toward the band once more, the 'token' unique instrument playing tonight was a banjo, which, really, wasn't all that unique any longer. There was a muggle band he actually quite enjoyed that used it as their main focus. “Eh,” he havered, “just not so much this one,” but the boys were cheap, and it was obvious as to why. There tended to be in here more often than he would like. Knew too many of their songs at this point. He just wanted to tell them how to fix it, to fix their shoddy lyrics, and for Merlin's sake, how to tune their guitar to the key they were playing in. But that wasn't his job. “What is the common working class? Are you the common working class?”” Gideon exhaled a short burst of laughter and spread his arm majestically in the direction of the bar, “Oh the bartenders, waiters, pencil pushers and desk jockeys!” he spoke as if it were something glorious that could be obtained in legend...but really, they were just the scut jobs that people only took whenever they absolutely had to. The differences between their upbringing, would never cease to amuse him.

“Hmm. I sell clothes.” He sold clothes? Not at a department store, or any of the little shops here in Alzubra, Gideon would have seen him. Besides, that would make him part of the common working class, which he obviously knew nothing about.“Clothing, as well as some accessories, scarves, vacations, and other consumer products.” Vacations and scarves, that was an interesting combination. “And the title of this vacation accessory salesman would be?” That sounded like he sold bikini's and sunscreen. Maybe he did that too....

“Actually, no. They already had a couple rounds. If they-“ The appearance of another young....at least he thought he was young man moving up to the counter had Gideon rising off of his elbows slowly, standing and attempting to make himself taller than his 5'11 height would have him look otherwise. Damn his average bones. He lifted himself onto the balls of his feet...in a way that he hoped wasn't obvious, just to see...and that man was still much, much taller. Could give a man a complex. Not Gideon, no, but somebody. “You’re misssssssing out on all the action over there, buddy. Unless you’re getting some action here?” Action? Gideon dropped himself flat on his feet, confused as to the meaning, maybe he was just slurring funny, though, that smile...he was having a harder time passing that off like it was nothing. He could feel the skin of his forearms flushing, which was weird, since that wasn't a place he normally flushed. “I wassss wondering where our shots were you know? Hi, I’m Stefan, and I’m a model.” A model. Gideon's brows raised and his attention diverted straight to Oliver as if it was some grand puzzle he had finally solved. “Oooh, you're a model,” as if he couldn't have possibly guessed as much on his own. Though, both of them were more than attractive enough for the gig. He reached across for Stefan's hand but somehow, Stefan missed. He moved with his left hand to grab the man's hand and shook it firmly with his right. Saying nothing of how obviously, slightly sloppy, drunk he was.

“And this is Oli. Oli likes long walks on the beach and sex in the sand,” Okay. Maybe it was hot in here. He wasn't unused to drunk people saying all manner of things to him, but that was his friend and he wasn't sure if it was okay that Stefan was saying these things, or if he was trying to embarrass Oliver, or ...well he wasn't sure what other reasons besides a liquored loose tongue could cause him to say such things. Gideon wasn't a prude. He had a daughter. He knew how things worked...where they went, he just wasn't as open about talking about it as some others....wasn't as...experienced as some of the other people his age were and didn't want to be teased over something so silly. Though, Oliver didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest, so it must be alright. “You into that?” “Long walks on the beach?” “Actually, sex in the sand is close to excruciating. Gideon was about to have someone send over another round of shots, weren’t you? You can manage without me,” He caught Oliver's apology and just grinned, turning around to get the small, circular tray from behind him and set it on the table, grabbing a half dozen shot glasses and placing them on the tray, set about mixing a set of shots for Oliver's friends, something a little better than what they had been drinking before and tapped the girl who had just returned, fishing in her apron for her cigarettes. Gideon grabbed the lighter from his pocket and pressed it in her hand, “Cover you for an extra five if you drop this off first? My friend will drop them and I know this is your favorite tray,” he joked, winking at the girl impishly but she laughed and took the tray expertly in her hand before brushing against Stefan on her way past, probably a little too suggestively but she was in it for the tip, just like Giddy was. Whether Stefan liked boys or girls was irrelevant.

Giddy leaned over the bar top to see her go, weaving through the people but his attention was on Stefan, “On the house,” he smiled brightly, maybe the girl would get her tops worth after all. “Cuz we're friends now, right Stefan?” at least, they were going to be friends until he could tuck Stefan away onto the night bus safe and sound when this was all over. Friends don't let friends drink and fly. After all. Puking, people splattered on pavement, just wasn't a pretty picture no matter which way it went. He rotated his head toward Oliver, still leaned on his arms over the bar, mouthing 'Model?' like it was something crazy. He should have expected something “Don't worry about him though, I see that type every day. He was pretty tame, considering,” he could feel the pressure building at the base of his skull, a totally irrelevant, and pointless question begging to be asked. Wasn't that the thing always asked? “Was all that true?” ah, he felt like a school girl. He shook his head, pushing backward off the bar until his feet touched the ground again and he was on his own, putting the bottles back where they belonged. “None of my business, really. Do you get to go on the sorts of vacations that you sell?”

---

Tag: Oliver
Words: 1374
Notes: NAH
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

“Oh the bartenders, waiters, pencil pushers and desk jockeys!” Okay, Oliver actually smiled. He laughed even, dropping his head to the side on the bar table as Gideon dramatically soliloquied about the common working man. “Ahhh, I think I understand now,” he replied, his head still tilted to the side like a lopsided dummy as he chuckled. See? Oli was perfectly capable of it, he just saved it for the very good moments. He was even polite enough to take in the entire view that Giddy gestured to, checking out the waiters and waitresses and door monitors for possibly the first time that night. “You must meet plenty of interesting people,” he countered for argument’s sake. He didn’t think he would hate it so much to be a waiter, or a bellhop for that matter. Of course, Oli also didn’t think he would be very good at it. He permitted people to get away with too many things, as evidence of his very lax prefect duties back in school. In customer service, one eventually had to put their foot down somewhere, right at the crossroads of ridiculous demands and accusations. Oliver on the other hand, might just give them what they wanted. That was a surefire way of going out of business.

Truly, he would have answered Gideon’s question about what his official job title was, but then Stefan came around and “inspired” the conversation, like old times. Oli was content to let him talk for a little bit until he started to get a bit too personal. Oliver didn’t care, but for Giddy’s sake he suggested another round of drinks to settle his personality just a smidge. Gideon was a good sport, even venturing to shake the hand of his drunken comrade. Oliver wondered how many times a night he had to babysit someone, or amuse them in bizarre ways. How utterly interesting that would be. You see? Never a boring night on the job when there was people watching to be had. Oli sipped from his drink again so as not to waste it, but he was beginning to relate to the metaphor of a thirsty man in a desert, who is constantly being offered dry shortcake instead of a glass of water. The only twist in the story for Oliver was that his glass of water was pulsing underneath every vein in the club. Boo.

“Long walks on the beach?” Oliver shook his head. “He exaggerates.” In other words, he’s drunk, and what can you do? Giddy was quick to filling the void in Stefan’s never-ending craving, getting a waitress to bring another round of some of their better stuff over to the table. “And you do it all with a smile,” he mused lightly, voicing his train of thought in the middle of the sentence. “Cuz we're friends now, right Stefan?” Stefan looked utterly shocked, pointing his thumb in Giddy’s general direction as he shouted, “I love this guy! I looooove this guy. You are a rocksssstar my man. A rockstar.” He continued to call Gideon a rockstar as he walked backwards, somewhat impressively considering, away from the bar and back to his table, where excited shouts burst forth at the sight of the alcohol tray. Oli would have liked to see his friends discuss philosophy now that they were undeniably drunk. It might actually be interesting this time around. But maybe some other time.

“You enjoy taking care of people.” He didn’t even ask it as a question. To him, it was a factual statement based upon what he had just witnessed, and witnessed at school together. “Perhaps you take care of people a lot.” Oliver gave him sort of a sad look, waiting for a reaction. It just felt like Gideon wasn’t in a place that he wanted to be, or if he was, that he wasn’t spending all that much time on himself. 'Model?' Oli’s lips turned up on their own accord. Giddy had a way of getting him to smile, apparently. “You don’t have to whisper it. It’s not religious.” He said it with such awe-struck tone that Oli was caught between wanting to roll his eyes and kiss him…..well, anywhere actually. Giddy was half-way over the bar now. He knew that look; it was pure curiosity. Oliver met him from the other side, pushing himself further to close the distance and bring them nearly nose-to-nose. “Of course. I don’t see any reason to lie - about anything.” He heavily articulated the last few syllables, giving Gideon his bedroom eyes. He was going to wait for Giddy to back away before he did. Eventually Gideon did, although he might have just been because standing up on the ends of his toes had proven to be uncomfortable.

“On occasion. I went to Puerto Rico last month, although more often than not, they prefer to use magic to give the appearance of a certain setting while I’m actually in a studio while someone blows artificial wind into my air.” Wow, that had actually been quite the long sentence. It wasn’t as glamorous as it sounds. When he did go on a trip, he lived out of a suitcase and it made his state of life seem very temporary. Which was ironic, considering he was a vampire. “I won’t be a model forever, I suppose. Just as you won’t be a bartender.” If Giddy didn’t like it, then perhaps he could take solace in the idea that it was only temporary in the grand scheme of things. Oli wanted to change the subject; he didn’t want to talk about things that were depressing. Besides, he had an opportunity standing right before him. “You know, you are a bit taller since last time I saw you. You’ve grown into yourself quite nicely. And, perhaps I’m only feeling a bit lightheaded from the drink, but you do look at me an awful lot, Gideon Crumb. Stare, even.”

---

tag : gideon

words : 992

notes lala
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

“You enjoy taking care of people.” Did he? He'd never really thought of it before. It was always just, something that he did. Not just his daughter either, because of course he had to take care of her. There was no question whenever it came to that. If he didn't do it, then who would? The mother who had left her in infancy? Like his own mother? Wouldn't know what to do with a mother anyway. Certainly not sex on beaches. Not if it was as horrible as Oliver seemed to make it sound, anyway. He liked taking care of the drunken people in the bar because they were funny, but they were carefree, and usually, they were enjoying themselves. Yeah, sometimes he had to pull one out of the bathroom more than a little hammered, crying or puking or...well, he didn't want to think about the or because it was gross. The majority, however, were just harmless, like Stefan. What was a free drink every now and then. Maybe he couldn't afford it, maybe he wouldn't eat tomorrow, but it was fun, and he was enjoying himself....more importantly, of course, he wasn't hearing the band because he had somebody to talk to. Selfish. Yes he was. “Perhaps you take care of people a lot.” Gideon nodded, “Well, yeah, they pay me too.” Sometimes they did, but he understood what Oliver was trying to say.

“Of course. I don’t see any reason to lie - about anything.” So he really was into long walks on the beach. That was good. There weren't any beaches that were close to here, so it had to be something that he didn't do very often. Though...the other one, he had obviously done it, he had spoken with authority on the subject anyway. He hadn't ever been drinking around Oliver, not that he was drinking now. Not allowed, generally, so he had no way of knowing if Oliver was one of those lucky few people who were the same whether drunk or sober, or if the looks that he kept, well he had to be imagining them didn't he? Oliver wouldn't be looking at him that way. Was there a way? Maybe he was just imagining things to distract himself from the bad music, or just thinking too much entirely. Which, was probably what was happening. He did that a lot. More than a lot. A plethora of over thinking. Good thing he changed the subject. At least. Perhaps he was just embarrassed, or nervous. Or, well he didn't really know.

On occasion. I went to Puerto Rico last month, although more often than not, they prefer to use magic to give the appearance of a certain setting while I’m actually in a studio while someone blows artificial wind into my air.” Well. “Is there any difference in the pictures? Between the magic backgrounds and actually being there? I would think that the actual ones would be better,” But he knew nothing about photography. Didn't even know how to work a magical camera...though Kristen could. However that worked. “I won’t be a model forever, I suppose. Just as you won’t be a bartender.” “Modeling isn't a good job?Or just not your career choice?” Seemed like it was the sort of job that made a decent amount of money, so it had to be better than this. Giddy liked people just fine but...well, he had thought about it. Of course he wanted to do something with music if he could, and this was just about the closest that he had gotten so far to making money off of anything musical. It was hard, given that it wasn't just himself any more. Well, it never really had been. If he was being honest. Realistically, he probably could be a bar tender forever, eventually work up to manager, then his own bar, chain of bars if he really wanted to overstretch himself. He could do something with the skill set...if nothing else ever worked back. Though, sometimes, whenever he was laying awake at night and couldn't sleep...it felt like bar tended was just an excuse. Just something he was doing to tell himself that it was enough, like a stop gap....

“You know, you are a bit taller since last time I saw you. You’ve grown into yourself quite nicely. And, perhaps I’m only feeling a bit lightheaded from the drink, but you do look at me an awful lot, Gideon Crumb. Stare, even.” Gideon's eyes had to of been glazing over before, as for the conversation change, but he didn't mind it. He was never all that great with compliments, his gaze diverted, grabbing a bottle of cherries from under the counter and a bowl, starting to put them into the bowl one at a time, for nothing other keeping his hands busy. Besides. He didn't stare...he, well. No. He didn't. “Well it's not very often you see a model in person,” he flicked his gaze up playfully from the cherries at hand and paused, smile pulled from his face slowly....fine. He was staring. Sue him. “You've always been tall,” stupid. What he should be sued for, was the inability to be forward of any kind. That's what he should have been sued for. “Thank you, but I think you are...” Gideon's gaze dropped, smile returning, “tipsy, you know. I'm the expert on tipsy people, after all.” but they both knew he wasn't. Which was why Gideon couldn't look at him. Play it safe. Don't over think it. He wanted to say something else, but he didn't...”Where else have you been?”

---

Tag: Oliver
Words: 936
Notes: NAH
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

“Well, yeah, they pay me to.” “Okay.” That was all he said on the matter, dropping it because Gideon had already given the response he had wanted to give, and Oli wasn’t certain what else to say. Oliver may have seemed, after all, like someone who loved living the high life, but it was only a piece of the truth. He was vain, that was true, if it were possible to be vain but not arrogant. Looks were all he got on by in his life, so he modeled. Why? Well, they paid him to. When he was fifteen his reason for delving into it was not the same as it was today. He had a teenage crisis, a fleeting desire to be more ambitious life goals like his sister, or his parents. But, then he realized shortly thereafter that he was perfectly happy with living his life without any singular set purpose. Was that immature? Oliver hardly knew what the word meant. Besides, he didn’t mean to say that he didn’t want his life to have meaning, he simply didn’t see the meaning in ambition.

“Is there any difference in the pictures? Between the magic backgrounds and actually being there? I would think that the actual ones would be better.” Oli had to think about that. He didn’t pay much attention to the photos himself. He just listened for the “okay, we’ve got it people!” And the relieved cheers, or the, “Nope, that plant right there doesn’t look right. Shoot it again.” That was how Oliver could tell if artwork was acceptable to the masses. Why? He didn’t tend to agree with the masses on most things, but this was his job and he needed it to work. “Yes, I think so. There are some photographers who feel they are telling a lie when they magic the setting, and others who prefer saving on a budget. I don’t think the majority of people notice.” When was the last time a person had started intently at a photograph in a magazine, among hundreds of other advertisements? Oli furrowed his brow, scratching at his neck absentmindedly. “But I can always tell.”

“Modeling isn't a good job? Or just not your career choice?” “It’s objective, don’t you think?” What was good to one person wasn’t necessarily good to another. “Modeling is a temporary state. Eventually, you get too old, or people get tired of looking at your face.” For him, it would have to be the latter. If Oli’s face never changed, surely the industry would get bored of looking at it? He could change his beard, his makeup, or his outfit, but no one could stare at the same person forever. Besides, it would eventually get rather obvious as to what he was, and when people caught on, they would protest. It was only a matter of time. Oliver wasn’t sad about it, he just acknowledged the inevitable. That’s when Oli sighed and changed the subject, refocusing on Gideon. Oliver didn’t like to talk about himself. Talking about himself was boring; he already knew everything there was to know about him. But other people – that was a conundrum and a mystery.

Gideon had obviously grown uncomfortable, fiddling with the cherries for no discernable reason and disengaging the eye contact they had established for the past twenty minutes. Oliver didn’t really seem to care, if his continuation of the conversation was any indication. “Well it's not very often you see a model in person.” Oli plucked a cherry from the bowl that Giddy was using and pressed it to his lips, biting into the juicy goodness as it spread over his lips and gave them a red tinge. “How would you know?” Giddy maybe had a sixth sense that Oliver didn’t know about, but most people were never going to be aware of when they walked by a model and when they didn’t. Oli certainly didn’t know every time he passed a healer, or a ministry worker, or a bouncer. He had absolutely no idea, and that mystery fascinated him. Just what exactly was ticking behind those morose faces as they travelled on their way to work? “Paris, Tokyo, Amsterdam, and Brazil.” To name a few. He didn’t want to get into too many details. They were getting sidetracked, after all. Tsk. The conversation just kept getting back to Oliver. Not a place he wanted to be at all. Oliver eventually finished the cherry, so he put the stem of it in his mouth and locked his tongue around it, rolling it around expertly in silence before he said anything else to Gideon. Once he was sure he had it, he pulled out the knotted cherry stem and set it on the bar counter, glancing at it with a blank expression like one would a postage stamp. “Do I look tipsy?” He sincerely wanted to know, and he wanted to watch Giddy fumble a little bit with trying to answer that question.

---

tag : gideon

words : 833

notes lala
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

“But I can always tell.” Gideon knew, that come tomorrow whenever he was reading over the Timestopper, that he was going to be looking to see if there were differences in the ads, to see if there was some way to microscopically tell, or with the naked eye that there was something different between the two...he knew it. He was going to stare at the picture for far too long, and forget to read the articles all together before he was solved into grabbing a random ass piece of toast and running out the door with Kristen over his shoulders. Though, so long as he found something in one of the pictures, he was going to be happy. “It’s objective, don’t you think?” True, just because it paid more didn't mean that he exactly liked it any better than he would like serving coffee. Perhaps Gideon had let the job get to him a little, in so far as that he thought he would tolerate a hell of a lot more from people...if he were paid to. What a cynic he was. “Modeling is a temporary state. Eventually, you get too old, or people get tired of looking at your face.” True. He supposed. Though he thought that Oliver had the sort of face that would take a long time to get sick of, but maybe that was just because he knew him pretty well, or at least he used to.

“How would you know?” Gideon's head lifted, surprised at the question, but he didn't know. He saw a lot of people, a lot of pretty people even, every single day and never gave it any second thought. He supposed that unless they were coming out and saying they were models, like Stefan had...there was no real way of knowing. He liked that about Oliver, even thought it was something simple, he made him stop, and think. “Paris, Tokyo, Amsterdam, and Brazil.” He had wanted to travel, playing music all over the world. For a time. He'd thought maybe he'd met the people to do it with, or that he had gotten good enough, or something, but nothing had ever come from it, and then Claire had gotten pregnant and that had been that. He'd traveled a couple of times with his father, during the summers but never anywhere interesting, seen nothing that a tourist would think was amazing, he hoped to do all of those things, in time. He was a little jealous. Then again, who didn't want to travel. He was no worse than any other man.

What was he doing with the cherry...it was on purpose. It was distracting.

What was he doing with the cherry stem.

It wasn't an easy task, to make him so speechless. He was a very talkative man. Though, he was absolutely watching, and he shouldn't have been. He was staring again, and he felt like at any moment, Oliver was going to call him on it. Whenever Oliver pulled out the knotted stem and placed it on the counter, Gideon just looked at it, neat little knot. He'd heard about that before, had tried doing it himself but he'd just never managed it before. Yet. Skillful tongue. Gideon blinked slowly, clearing the image from his head...or rather, trying to. “Do I look tipsy?” He sincerely wanted to know, and he wanted to watch Giddy fumble a little bit with trying to answer that question. Giddy's jaw dropped open a fraction of an inch, he didn't have any impressive party tricks to whip out, he was going to have to answer the question. “I wouldn't cut you off, if that's what you mean?” He glanced in the direction of Stefan and Oliver's other friends, if he wasn't cutting them off, there was no real issue here...but from the lack of look on Oliver's face, he was guessing that wasn’t the right answer. He paused for a moment, before lifting that bowl of cherries up onto the bar top closer to Oliver, and he actually managed half a smile. “No, not tipsy.”

---

Tag: Oliver
Words: 679
Notes: NAH
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

Maybe he was feeling a little devious, but if he was, it was only a result of the company he had frequently been in contact with. They were rubbing off on him in all sorts of ways. Gideon was a nice guy, and easily approachable at any given time. Those qualities alone made him positively different than ninety percent of the company Oli had ever come to know. When people didn’t like what Oliver had to say, he wouldn’t say anything at all, for he’d rather be silent than a liar. Then again, there were exceptions to everything. He usually chose not to lie because he didn’t want to get caught in a webbing created by his own design. It sounded like unintentional suicide to him. It had nothing to do with morality. Oliver had virtue, and believed in right and wrong, but as far as morality was concerned, he had never thought much on the subject. His family didn’t care for it. Oli knew it was normal for most homes to incorporate it into their lifestyle, but then, he didn’t come from most homes, and that suited him just fine.

“I wouldn't cut you off, if that's what you mean?” Oliver nodded satisfactorily and chewed on the end of a fingernail, because now his mouth was bored. But, when Giddy purposefully pushed the jar of cherries closer to Oliver, he gave into the temptation. He took another one and rolled it around in his hands a bit first, playing with it. It reminded him of blood, like almost everything else. “No, not tipsy.” “Good. I’m almost never drunk.” Not that it wasn’t possible, but it took a great deal of alcohol to get a vampire sloshed and Oli had never cared that much about those drinks anyway. Finally, Oli stopped messing around with the little cherry and he bit into it, knowing it would taste nothing like what he truly craved but it gave him a glimpse into being human again. “You’re still very shy,” he commented passively, sucking on the pit. He may talk a lot (although he was surprisingly mute at the moment) but he had a tendency to blush and shift away from topics quite commonly.

Stefan, along with a couple other of his buddies, returned to the bar and gave Gideon a thumbs up. “Hey thanks, we owes yous one. Noooooooow we’re gonna pop this joint and head over the club, because I got……I got.…a few ladies who wanna dance and I’m pretty sure someone’s gettin’ lucky toniiiiight!” Stefan did a little victory dance, balling his hands into his fists as he waved them side to side in front of his chest. The other two guys whooped and cheered, taking a couple of girls who were a quarter of an inch away from showing their best assets to everyone. Oli noticed a boy went with their posse as well, which was about normal. “Oli I don’t feel good….” A size zero brunette bombshell flopped down in the stool beside him, dropping her head with a hard smack against the bar counter. Oliver stared at a second before looking to Giddy. He remembered when he could get drunk, and in some ways, it had been a lot nicer. He never would have been forced to be designated flyer a year ago. In a very calm voice he asked, “London, did you have a pre-party before the party again?” Meaning, were you drunk or high before you came here? He lightly touched her brown tendrils, and London remained motionless. Raising her head softly, Oli met her closed eyelids. Right. He released her head and it whacked back against the counter and lolled a little to the side. Sometimes Oliver had a tendency to state the obvious, so he looked at Gideon with defeated eyes before saying flatly, “She passed out.” Which meant he was going to have to try and get her home, because everyone else had already left and Oliver was too nice to abandon someone. He released a puff of frustrated air from his nose as it dawned on him. “I can’t remember where you live.”

---

tag : gideon

words : 691

notes lala
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

“Good. I’m almost never drunk.” Wasn't that the point of drinking? Gideon had never cared much for the taste of alcohol, he could count the times that he had been truly intoxicated in his life, on his two hands. Which, he thought meant that he was doing pretty good. The few times that he did drink, it was with the intent to get drunk, or to help him sleep. Though, maybe being a model meant he drank far more often, after parties, events, socializing that he had a high tolerance. Maybe Gideon wasn't mixing drinks properly and just, nobody had felt the need to tell him. Really, he was willing to think just about any number of things to try to make it less obvious that his gaze was constantly torn between watching the cherry and watching Oliver's face. “You’re still very shy,” “Shy?” He didn't see how he was shy...At least not by the textbook definition. There were just some topics that weren't as easy for him to talk about. He didn't have a broad enough knowledge base...or the experience of talking about certain things the way that Oliver's friends obviously did. Didn't mean he was going to shrink back into his shell, not yet anyway.

Though, his concentration was broken by the rejoinder of the friends. Gideon's posture straightened properly and pushed a smile back onto his face. “Hey thanks, we owes yous one. Noooooooow we’re gonna pop this joint and head over the club, because I got……I got.…a few ladies who wanna dance and I’m pretty sure someone’s gettin’ lucky toniiiiight!” Gideon laughed, well, it obviously wasn't him. His shift wasn't over until the band was well tucked away. Stefan deserved it, he seemed like a good enough person to be around. “Oli I don’t feel good….” It was like Gideon zeroed in on the girl, not because she was pretty, because she very obviously was pretty. Very pretty, but because if she had alcohol poisoning from something he had allowed her to drink...he could be in a lot of trouble. With the way she smacked her head against the counter, he wasn't sure what the cause was before, but now she was going to have a massive headache. Should he get the girl some ice? A ride home? Let her pass out in the back room? He wasn't good with situations like – but Oliver had it handled, didn't even seemed phased in the slightest. Perhaps Giddy had gone soft, reacting to every small injury like it was a huge deal, maybe because with Kristen it was. “London, did you have a pre-party before the party again?” Something she did often, then? Though...he was dropping her head again and it hit just as hard a second time. Why did he do that? Gid's eyes widened, his hands flexing under the counter as if he was trying to decide to let Oliver handle it, he obviously knew the girl. He hadn't even noticed that the others had already left, not bothering to wait for either of their friends. “She passed out. I can’t remember where you live.” Right. Well. That he could fix. Leaning over the counter once more, he smacked his palm against the flat side next to Oliver's legs to get the attention of the other drink girl, nodding in the direction of the bar. The girl didn't seem pleased about it, but she could see the girl near doubled over, in risk of falling straight out of her stool at any given moment.

“I can help.” he jogged around the edge of the bar and came up beside the drunken girl, “We've got a cot in the back, for times like this...if you want?” He watched Oliver carefully, but didn't wait for an answer as he grabbed the girls arm, and pulled it around his shoulders. She was tiny, but he considered asking Oliver for help anyway, just...because. No, no need to appear weak...she was really tiny. Even if it was dead weight he stooped to grab her legs as best as he could and nodded in the direction of the room just past the bar, but beside the rest rooms and started the awkward process of weaving through the people and backed into the small room, mostly filled with boxes and shelves lined with jarred olives, bags of lemons and an ice machine...but there, in the back was a small blue cot with folded blankets instead of pillows, where Gideon deposited the girl, pulling one blanket out from under her head to cover her tiny frame. “If you wanted to go with your friends? I can wait till she sobers up...send her on her way?” He hoped that he didn’t want to go, but he wasn't going to force him to stay either...he turned back toward the taller man with a shrug, “You said her name was London?” just in case he was leaving, Giddy's arms rested on his hips, taking a few steps away from the girl so she could sleep it off.



Tag: Oliver
Words: 842
Notes: -sixpence none the richer plays softly in the background-
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

He couldn’t decide yet what to do with her. If Oliver took London to his flat and let her sleep the night away, he could picture his luck turning sour and having Bridgette show up and instigate a showdown. London could handle her own, but there were other people, and then there was Bridgette. Even Oli didn’t mess with Bridgette. Secondly, he couldn’t take her to someone else’s house because they had plans to party until dawn from the looks of it, and given their inebriated states, that was a case of the blind leading the blind. What Oliver had figured out, with no amount of skill, was that London was down for the count, at least for a few hours or until she was ready to throw up. Gideon didn’t know it, but Oliver had been through this with her before. A few times, actually. Seeming to interpret the worried expression on Giddy’s face, Oli shrugged his shoulders. “It isn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing that she took something before she arrived.” Most friends would be more alarmed that London had mixed her pills with alcohol, but Oliver could hear the steady beat of her heart, and it wasn’t failing. She just needed to sleep it off.

He watched like a spectator on the sidelines as Gideon hopped around the counter and picked London up. Oliver easily could have carried her, but it was sweet of Giddy to want to take care of her. His observations were right: Gideon couldn’t help but take care of someone. He picked up London’s sequined pink clutch from the barstool and carried it like a man as he followed Giddy into the storage room. The cot indicated that this clearly wasn’t the first, nor the last time something like this had happened. Oliver sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hand to smooth away the sweaty bangs from her head. He was distracted when Giddy spoke and didn’t answer for a pause. “Hm? Oh, yes. London Stone.” Oli leaned over, his silver necklace hanging off of his neck as he gave her a kiss on the cheek before drawing back. “I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s had a difficult life.” Surface features were merely a fraction of what and who she really was. Pulling his wand from his pocket, Oliver forced a bucket to appear and he set it on the floor beside her in what would clearly be marked as “the vomit zone”. He didn’t want to, and he didn’t want Gideon to have to clean up everywhere.

“If you wanted to go with your friends? I can wait till she sobers up...send her on her way?” “Thank you, but I think I’ll stay right here.” You know what isn’t fun? Being the only sober person in the room. He wouldn’t have a good time with them right now, and besides, there was merciful silence in this back room, away from all the noise that was drowning him out. “I promised to take care of her.” Not take care of her as in provide for her and give her a roof over her head, but to look out for her when she fell. London had confided in him once, and he wanted to hold true to that. He tucked the covers up under her chin and then decided to slip off her shoes, placing them neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. If he thought he was hungry now, he was going to be murderously hungry after this. It would be his chance to see just how long he could hold out.

Standing up, Oliver bridged the distance between himself and Gideon and popped whatever personal bubble he may have had. There height difference wasn’t that much; he was exaggerating. “What did I say about your penchant for helping others?” He tilted his head up, smiling at the corners of his eyes. Unexpectedly, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the side of Giddy’s face and cupped him under the chin to tilt it up. “You’ve actually grown a beard. I didn’t think you’d ever be able to.” Well, he was just being honest.

---

tag : gideon

words : 705

notes
outfit : eh good enough

[Gideon Crumb]

Gideon shouldn't have been as okay with the cot here, but sometimes...it was the only way he could get sleep either. Sleeping before the bar opened or catching a nap on his break times, it really had come in handy. It wasn't all that awesome whenever situations like this happened, and the person inevitably vomited all over the side and he had to clean it up...that wasn't so awesome, but whenever it was clean. It was nice. “Hm? Oh, yes. London Stone.” London Stone. That couldn't be the name she was born with. Though, nobody chose the name 'Crumb' for themselves either, so perhaps it was a lucky coincidence where she had no choice but to go into modeling. It was sweet, of Oliver to take care of her too, even if it was just pushing her hair back from her face and kissing her cheek. It signified that he cared for her, that she wasn't just some friend he was okay with not hanging out with. It was good of him, to stay behind like this, to take care of her. “I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s had a difficult life.” He had no doubt. Gideon wasn't the type of person to judge anybody, certainly not for this. She relaxed how she needed to relax. Some people mixed the two just for fun, or to forget, there was usually a reason. He might not approve of the combination, but he'd done it before too. The bucket was a nice touch too, but he wasn't going to comment on that. He appreciated it none the less.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll stay right here. I promised to take care of her.” Gideon's arms moved to cross over his chest as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, girlfriend maybe? She was pretty enough, and they would make for a handsome pairing, though it didn't seem like that. He shouldn't be making assumptions either way. He didn't feel like he was being intrusive, watching them like this. So perhaps not girlfriend after all. Watching couples for too long tended to make him uncomfortable, envious, maybe. He was so distracted watching her eyes move under her eyelids that he didn't even notice Oliver moving until he was right in front of him. Silent, that one. Moreover, he was standing close. Very close. Maybe their height difference wasn't all that much after all...didn't seem like so much whenever he was almost brushing Gideon's crossed arms with his chest. “What did I say about your penchant for helping others?”Yeah, okay Gideon. If he was being honest with himself he had been thinking about being this close to Oliver for a whole other reason shortly after the cherry incident. Inappropriate, but he was. Cool fingers curling under his chin and lifting his face, and it should have bothered him, but he'd always liked Oliver. He hadn't thought of it as a crush per se, because he felt similar about all of the people that he cared about. Which would mean that he had 'crushes' on all of his friends, the few that he had left. Oliver had just always been good company, he didn't have any issue with the personal space violations with people he was comfortable with, and it hardly felt like any time had passed between them at all. “She seems important, to you” he stated the obvious as he watched the rare smile at the corner of Oliver's eyes...

He complied, either way, not yanking his face away or moving at all, the only thing weird was the passed out girl, far as he was concerned. “You’ve actually grown a beard. I didn’t think you’d ever be able to.” “More stubble than beard, but yeah...taller, beard, just did a lot of growing up,” His fingers tightened their grip on his own arm, contemplative before moving, just leaning backward, a little, against the sturdy shelving behind him, his stance widening but he didn't pull himself away from Oliver's slight grip on his chin, his hands unfolding and lowering to his sides, blue eyes lifting to blue, an almost stubborn set to his jaw, or challenging, depending on how it was taken.


Tag: Oliver
Words: idk
Notes: -ba dum
Wearing: Just slapped togerther

[Oliver Dorner]

there for all to see, entranced---
burned by the flame.

---

London Stone was most certainly a stage name, like Giddy suspected, although she had never given Oliver a straight answer on it before. Of course he had asked, he asked about everything, but not everyone was as forthcoming as say, Gideon Crumb. Add to it her English accent when speaking German and Oli would say there was no question to it that her name was a fake one. Or, fake in the sense that it was not given at birth. “She seems important, to you.” Hmm, perhaps she was. She didn’t remind him of anyone other than herself, so there was no familiarity attachment. Why was she important to him? “I just don’t want her to feel like she’s all alone,” Oliver said earnestly, answering his own question as much as he was to Giddy. She didn’t have a real family that he knew of. She was raised in foster care but bounced around between her aunt and a few families that were in London’s eyes, far more interested in the money attached to the babysitting than the actual person involved. Oli didn’t know why he felt responsible for her in particular, when he had never had many responsibilities before. “She looks like a doll when she’s asleep.” He turned his attention for a millisecond away from Giddy and back to her sleeping form. She had pieces of hair plastered to her face and lips, and she was starting to snore, one hand splayed out in front of her. Oliver suppressed a laugh. “Usually.”

“More stubble than beard, but yeah...taller, beard, just did a lot of growing up.” Oli didn’t like full beards anyway, and he said as much. “I as well. Full beards are rather terrible for kissing.” He smiled suggestively at Gideon, or maybe it was just the vampire in him getting in the way. Big beards were terrible for a lot of things, such as eating, and generally looking like you bathed. As he looked at Giddy in that way that created a sense of friction and tension in the atmosphere, he couldn’t get over how blue his eyes were. Oliver always had blue eyes, and perhaps he took it for granted and didn’t notice the same quality in other people. Now his were unfortunately artificial, but not Gideon’s. It’s mainly why he grabbed him firmly under the chin – to get a better look at them. “You can always see a person’s true emotions displayed in their eyes. It’s impossible to hide.” He searched Gideon’s, noticing the perceptible shift in the other guy’s footing as he moved back just a smudge, accidentally tapping the shelving behind him.

Oliver leaned in a little, catching the scent of salt from Gideon’s skin. And then, it was like he snapped out of a sort of trance and he reluctantly released his grip. “I’m sorry. Was I making you uncomfortable? I was trying to make you out, but you were right after all. You really are different than in our school days. You would say the funniest sort of things. I much preferred you to everyone else.” Like Gideon, Oli had been a little drawn to him back at Hogwarts. They had very few things in common, but it didn’t matter. Giddy would miraculously convince Oliver to laugh and even joke a bit himself, and Oliver would spur it on with all of his questioning. It was a relief to have a conversation about something trivial, that didn’t involve blood purity status or social climbing tactics. He was never good at those talks, and everybody knew it. Frankly, Oli just hadn’t been a very good pureblood. Maybe he had a crush on Gideon at the time, but Oliver couldn’t have told anyone that he was attracted to boys, much less one in a relationship. Eventually they went their separate ways, and that was that. Although Oliver had since released Gideon from his hold, he didn’t step away, effectively locking him against the shelving unit. “The air still feels the same between us, doesn’t it?” He whispered.

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tag : gideon

words : 676

notes
outfit : eh good enough