Long, Hard Night - Dick!

[Deleted]

It was going to be a rough night.  

He could tell by the way he was flinching at shadows and loud noises.  He had been on edge all day with no real reason except that the previous night had been bad.  Tonight was setting up to be worse though.  So when he found himself staring at the mattress trying to talk himself into laying down, he'd given up.  It wasn't worth fighting with himself.  Instead he did what he usually did.  He headed to the street.  Brookings was small enough to be a walking town which he liked a lot.  It made finding interesting places easier.  However, Twitch was looking for something specific.  He passed by Patty's noisy, rowdy place full of people his own age and younger.  He wandered on a whim until luck found him just the kind of place he was looking for.

The soft, mournful strains of 'Blue Eyes Blue' drifted from the closed door a building with blacked out windows, only a flickering fluorescent sign advertising 'BAR' to indicate what kind of place it was.  In the dark he didn't even see a proper name for it.  He pushed open the door and was greeted by a full but somewhat mellow bar with an average age a good ten years older than himself.  Perfect.  He slunk in and found an empty stool at the end of the bar where it met the well.  It was a little closed in for him (he preferred places with more windows), but he spotted an old exit sign above a door on the far side.  Comforted by the presence of multiple exits, one of which he knew for sure was unlocked, laid some of his nerves to rest.  And then he ordered a beer and settled in to unobtrusively watch the other patrons.

An hour later he was on the same bar stool, the same beer in his hands now room temperature and barely touched.  The only time the bartender had come over to complain Twitch had quieted him with a generous tip.  All he wanted was to be left alone and he was getting that.  Unlike many of the patrons he hadn't come to drown himself in self pity.  Rather, he had come to distract himself- and to not be alone.  As his eyes skimmed a large knot of people at the far end of the bar, he ran his fingers idly over the ridge of the chain under his long sleeved shirt, hardly even noticing the gesture.  His other hand stayed on the bar, cupped around the beer.  The occasional rattle of the bottle on the wood top betrayed the trembles that frequented the muscles in that arm.

To most, he was just another lonely soul in a dirty little bar.  To the observant or the paranoid, his peculiarities would not go so unnoticed.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Steve walks warily down the street, with the brim pulled way down low. Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet... Machine guns ready to go. The clicking of heels on the sidewalk distracted the older gentleman from his song. Long legs wrapped in a short skirt blinded his mind as he watched it saunter past him and disappear into the darkness of the night. A sigh of disappointment left lips, ones that were used to all kinds of treatment, and eyes lowered once more as the feet below them began their journey away from those swaying hips.

Dick wasn't one to so blatantly ignore a short skirt and the flowery smell of a temptress, but he wasn't home in Australia anymore. He was in some crap town with a curfew and the possibility of anyone he tried to feel up screaming rape and stabbing him with a shoe. He was saddened by this fact, though he was older he was handsome by most standards, gorgeous by others and had the energy of a young stallion. He could still handle anything thrown at him at his age. He was fit, built to haul a ship out of the water without much thought.

But the states were drastically different from where he grew up and where he lived. A puff of smoke curled from his mouth as he exhaled, the cigarette held firmly between two fingers. He stopped walking, standing just below the sign of a bookstore. Dick stared at his reflection in the large glass protecting the display just on the other side. He turned sideways, giving himself the once over before smirking in approval. He still had it.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground, pressing it into the sidewalk with his heel before continuing down the street. The street lamps offered little light, but he wasn't too worried. It was a small town, he doubted there would be much violence here, and even if there was, he was more than capable of defending himself. If anything, Dick was not one to be fucked with, on any level. He didn't have the patience for common criminals, or Girl Scouts, the Avon lady, or anything else that he deemed less important than porn and chocolate chip cookies.

Glancing at the sky, Dick straightened the beanie on his head, they always made his head itchy, but the weather was near unbearable at night here and he needed to keep his hot blood warm somehow. Guessing what time it was he quickly jogged across the street, turning down an alley and then coming out on the other side of Brookings with a less than decent look on his face. He let his mind wander as his feet led the way. He didn't need to think about where he was going, his body knew the way like it had been made for the journey. And before he knew it, Dick was back in his favorite haunt.

A bar. He didn't actually know the name of it, he didn't care to know the name of it. All he knew was that it was generally quiet and he didn't have to pressure the bar tender to keep them coming. His eyes surveyed the entire bar, on one side was a line of tables, all of them full except for one in the very back, but for him to go over there he'd have to interact with at least one person, and he wasn't in the mood. On the other side was a bar, and although there was only one stool left between two people, he felt he had a better chance of getting hammered there than anywhere.

He approached the bar, remembering at the last second that he was still wearing the stupid beanie and pulled it from his head. His eyes took in the big guy on the right, big guy was a very polite term, the gentleman was ginormous and Dick wondered how the stool didn't break under his weight. On the other side was as smaller man, staring aimlessly ahead. Better than nothing. Dick sat, throwing his hand up at the barkeep and nodding when he pointed at Dick's usual.

Dick wasn't one to pry at a bar, but there was something constantly moving out of the corner of his eye, and it was starting to annoy him. Dick waited for his beer and took a swig before turning his attention to his bar mate. He was smaller, smaller than Tiny on his right, and he didn't seem like any kind of threat. But Dick wasn't one to judge a book by it's cover. He would at least read the first page before calling it crap. Dick stared at him for a few moments, realizing that he was probably coming off as creepy. The bottle moved again, this time he noticed the light tinking noise it made as it hit the bar top.

"Had one too many, mate?" He glanced at the man's face, then back to the bottle. It was no longer covered in condensation, but looked rather full, meaning it had sat there for quite some time without being downed. What a waste. Dick took another swig of his own beer before looking at the man again. "Planning something?"

TAG @twitch WORDS 895

[Deleted]

Twitch took brief notice of everyone who came in but didn't give the dark haired gentleman any more thought than anyone else until he began moving with purpose towards the only open seat left at the bar. He gave a soft, near inaudible sigh. He'd been enjoying the extra elbow room but he obligingly shifted a little on his stool so there was plenty of room for the stranger to take it. He kept himself tucked back in his corner, feeling a little closed in but otherwise content. Until attention abruptly turned on him.

He connected the comment to the movement of the bottle immediately and his hand released the glass, pressing flat on the bar top as if to try and still the movement. He couldn't keep the twitch and tremble of the fingers from giving him away though. He wasn't entirely certain what this guy's game was. Still, Twitch didn't really like bullies so he didn't move, just let his eyes slowly rake the other man from head to toe, appraising. His eyes slipped sideways, checking the path between him and the door. Busy, but he could probably make it if this guy decided to start trouble. Then, deliberately, he picked up the beer in his other hand and brought it to his lips to take a small sip. He didn't really care that it was luke warm and cheap- he could drink beer just about any damn way.

"Not a damn thing." His voice was quiet, soft, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone else. Though to be fair his contented mood was already killed- he could feel the muscles between his shoulders knotting in nervous anticipation. He didn't want trouble, but he wasn't very good at just rolling over either. "I was just minding my own business, like everyone else."

He tilted the end of his bottle vaguely towards the rest of the bar, indicating the many morose faces. Some of them were huddled in small groups talking, but many others were as alone as he (though all of them drinking much more heavily). His left arm slipped off the bar, hand falling into his lap so it was mostly hidden by the shadow of his body. Though he'd gotten over being self conscious about it a long time ago (like, longer than he could remember), having it pointed out always made him a bit defensive.

Already he was trying to decide if he could make a quiet exit. He didn't much like getting run out but he didn't need to get into a fight. Physical conflict was not something he wanted to participate in and he had no desire to start a witch hunt (or deal with the physical consequences) of trying to teleport out. If he could make it outside it might be worth the migraine anyway.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Dick's eyebrow couldn't help buy raise as the man beside him spoke. He watched the offending arm dropped down below the bar top and snorted. "Alright." He turned his attention back to his beer, taking a few more swigs before once again staring at his bar mate.

He could feel an awkward tension between them. Dick was used to it, most people didn't like him and those that did were only pretending so he wouldn't berate them. He didn't have the patience that he used to, and really, he didn't want it. Dick liked being impulsive and dealing with whatever damages he may cause later. When he was either drunk enough to not care, or passed out... And not caring.

"That's a load of shit. People don't mind their own business in here. I bet you at least ten people are listening to me bitch right now." He pointed over his shoulder. Tiny, next to him, shifted uncomfortably on his stool and tried to turn as much of his back to Dick as he could. "See? They don't even try to pretend not to hear you."

He finished off his first beer and motioned for the bartender to toss another down his way. The cold liquid felt wonderful going down his throat, but his empty tummy didn't enjoy it as much. Ah well, you can live off beer.

Dick turned his attention to the smaller of his bar mates, twisting in his stool a bit so he could get a better look at him. "So what's with the shaking, then?" Dick was crass, he knew it, and he didn't care. He liked to know what he was dealing with on a daily basis. Even if it was at a bar in the middle of the night.

Never know when someone could turn around and punch you in the face. Or stab you. Or try to murder you with a pair of nail clippers. Dick had been in all three of those situations multiple times, the nail clippers really were a poor choice for some.

He kept his gaze on the man, not willing to take his eyes off him for a second until he figured him out. Dick was bigger than him, could probably take him in a fight, and he was also partially blocking the guys escape path. Which put Dick is a wonderful position. All he needed now were some answers, and this guy was his prey for tonight.

TAG @twitch WORDS 411

[Deleted]

Twitch didn't much like the way he was getting stared at. He was constantly gauging the threat level of the people around him and this stranger was quickly rising on his scale. Quickly approaching the threshold of his risk tolerance. As the man began to down the first beer, Twitch added 'self destructive' to the quickly growing list in his head. He was drinking like a man looking for trouble or running from the past. Spending a lot of time at bars had given Twitch a good idea of why people come to drink at bars like this. He didn't follow the stranger's pointing, steadfastly attempting to look at his beer and hoping that the stranger's attention would go elsewhere.

Well, so much for that.

He sighed and tipped the bottle, taking another small drink. People at least did pretend to mind their own business most of the time. Just because someone got embarrassed when they got caught didn't make it less convenient. He can feel the first buzz of adrenaline starting to creep up his spine. The muscles in his left forearm clench, the fingers curling into claws in his lap. The rest of his body is still, only a somewhat deeper breath than his others giving away the seizure. Gradually, the muscles began to relax, and he contemplated his answer to the question. He took another sip, then set the bottle down with a soft clunk on the counter.

"I was born with it." He pushes his sleeves up to just below his elbows, the heat of many bodies packed into a small space getting to him a bit. Not that warm was ever a problem- he didn't have any sort of body fat to handle cold weather so he was much happier with the building being warm. He keeps his answer short, hoping that being an uninteresting conversationalist will discourage him.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Dick continued to stare. Even he was starting to feel uncomfortable with how little eye contact the guy was giving him, and really Dick was tired of looking at someone he wasn't going to have sex with. A grumbling started in his throat, he didn't like when people tried to ignore him. Dick wasn't the friendliest guy around but when he spoke to someone he expected a little more than one or two word answers.

He'd spent countless hours in the bar before tonight, never once seeing this fellow before. Dick already knew most of the secrets here in Brookings, had files upon files in his home of everyone with gifts, people who were vampires, shifters, people who he generally despised but whom he also swore to protect. From themselves and from other Hunters. But with the new school year starting there was an influx of new people. Which meant that Dick had to go back to work collecting new information on new people. It was really quite exhausting.

A beep sounded in his pocket. Dick slapped a hand to his thigh to silence it before reevaluating his current dilemma. How to make someone talk without choking them to death in a bar full of witnesses. Sure, he could drag the guy outside and beat his secrets out. but what would that really get him? A night in jail, an angry woman yelling at him on the phone. He really didn't want to deal with that.

No, he'd have to go about this the old fashioned way. With lots of booze and some swift talking.

"Aaaaaaaaaaalright, mate!" Dick slapped his new best friend on the back a couple of times before turning his body towards the bar again. "Hey! Two more down here!" Dick downed the rest of his own beer and after a few moments of waiting for his new one, also set one in front of his bar mate. "Have a cold one, on me." Dick smiled, at least he had a charming smile when he needed it, but most people could see how fake it really was.

His leg was still positioned to keep the guy tucked in the corner, but he sat as casually as possible. Dick needed to come off friendlier than previously. Which might prove difficult as he had jumped the gun already that night and was too aggressive to start with. Maybe he was getting too old for this kind of work.

Another swig of beer, another sting in his throat and a sigh. "Sorry about earlier, bit tiffed tonight, you know? You new in town? Haven't seen you around before."

TAG @twitch WORDS 438

[Deleted]

Oh yeah, he didn't like this guy. If anything he trusted the abrupt change of attitude even less. He suppressed a sigh and glanced nervously at the way the man's leg attempted to bar his passage. It buzzed the adrenaline up his spine again and he pressed his left arm closer into his stomach. He leaned closer to the bar, resting on his right elbow. He couldn't really pretend he wasn't nervous- he knew it showed on his face and the quick flicks of his eyes. As the bartender opened more beers, Twitch watched him carefully. He was even more cautious (and didn't bother to hide it), when the stranger took the beer and handed it to him, keeping an eye out for any slight of hand near the mouth of the bottle. Still, at least a cold beer was more palatable than the warm one.

With a shrug, Twitch nudged the lukewarm beer away and took the cold one. He studied it for a long moment as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, then tipped it back and took a sip. It was surprisingly refreshing in the warmth of the bar.

"Thanks." It was somewhat grudging, but Twitch couldn't bring himself to be outright rude. Just like the apology the stranger gave sounded pretty half-assed. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, still not really meeting his gaze.

"Yeah, I'm new." It was pointless to deny it. It was a small town and he had a feeling that most people who spent a lot of time here got familiar with the other residents. "You don't sound like you're from around here."

There, conversation. He could hold it, even though he really didn't want to. He was nervous and not in the butterflies-before-you-go-on-stage nervous. It was the low level hum that verged on the border of panic and threatened to scramble your thoughts and thrust you into instinctive fight or flight responses.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Well, at least the man was polite.

A twitch started above Dick's left eye. He was losing his patience very quickly and needed to figure out a better way to go about getting information out of this guy. He offered very little in the conversation department and although Dick had the urge to strangle him, he really didn't feel like hurting anyone. Technically the guy hadn't done anything wrong. He was just in as foul a mood as Dick it seemed like.

Dick understood all about foul moods. His had been getting worse over the last couple of days. First the run in with a vampire, then that stupid wolf pack that tried to run him off the road earlier in the week. At least his taser was good for something. Dick scrunched his nose up at the memory of burnt fur and blood. It hadn't been his best moment, but at least he was still alive.

Then he remembered that he was still sitting in the bar, and the person beside him was still a complete mystery.

You don't sound like you're from around here.

That was complete understatement. Dick had spent his entire life in England up until he met his wife, and then he followed her back to Australia. Aside from those two countries, and whichever ones they flew over on the plane, Dick had never been anywhere else. And America was strange to him, there were so many rules and yet everyone was completely rude and generally asses towards each other. Dick fit in quite well. Sort of.

"I'm not from around here." His accent wasn't as thick as it used to be. He had spent the first few months in the states trying to perfect a proper American accent. He had started sounding like a dying cowboy at one point, which made him switch tactics and just try to learn the American way to say things. Beer instead of coldie, trash instead of rubbish, to go instead of take away, simple things he could have some sort of control over.

Of course he still had a bit of his accent left, somewhere between a british brogue and an aussie partyboy. "I get the feeling you're not one for conversation, but I generally get a bit talky when I'm drunk. So, before I start calling you names, how about I get your actual name." Dick returned to his drink again, taking in a few gulps of it. "Otherwise you might end up being Mr. Fancypants."

TAG @twitch WORDS 419

[Deleted]

Twitch leaned back against the wall behind him, subtly putting more space between them. He cradled the bottle between both his hands now, which sort of helped to still the twitching or at least hide it. He tucked his feet up, a little farther away from the leg that blocked him in. It no longer looked like he was ready to flee, and yet the tense-ness hadn't left him.

"I don't generally like getting accosted when I'm just trying to drink." But he tried an awkward crooked smile to soften the words. He snorted a bit- Mr. Fancypants was probably the least applicable name for him. He took another drink of beer and tried to assess the other man's motivation. At the moment it seemed his reticence just seemed to be inspiring more and more questions.

"Most people call me Twitch." He offered, hiding a slight smile by downing another swallow of beer. He still wasn't very far through it, each drink not much more than a sip. Still, he noted that the stranger had been just as evasive- hadn't identified where his accent was from, hadn't offered much information about himself. He shifted the bottle to his left hand and set it back on the bar, his right hand lifting again to touch the ridge of the thin chain under the collar of his shirt. "What about you? Or should I just call you Bad Cop?"

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Dick couldn’t help but snicker a bit at the level of uncomfortable he was making Twitch. He didn’t necessarily like being too close to people, but he felt it necessary for instances like this. “I’m not trying to accost ya, was merely interested in the twitch you have going on over there.”

Of course, once Dick realized that this guy’s name was actually Twitch he felt another wave of annoyance wash over him. Of course your name is Twitch. “That can’t be your real name? Can it? Do Americans really name their kid’s stuff like that?” The last part was more to himself, but Dick was actually curious as to why someone would name their kid Twitch… Or Apple, for that matter. He took another swig of beer and waited a few minutes, he didn’t like to offer up much information about himself. Generally he just told people to fuck off and left it at that. Of course he was trying to get on this guy’s good side.

“Name’s Dick.” It was all he needed to say. He knew the irony in his own name, it fit his personality perfectly. His hand reached into his pocket, taking out his phone he held it to his side opposite of Twitch and unlocked it. He had missed messages from two people, both of whom weren’t important and could wait until he was done with his drink… And inquisition. He flipped through the screens on his phone till he reached the notepad. Opening it, he typed in three words: Twitch, has twitch.

Currently it was all he had on the guy, but he was hoping to get something a little more. Or at least get drunk in the process. “I don’t really like cops, so if you must call me something it should be Dick. Or Dick. Your choice.” Not many people called him by his real name, and he preferred it that way. Hearing Richard brought back too many memories he’d rather forget.

Dick shook his head in disgust with himself. He was not going to go down that road. Not tonight.

“You ever drink anything stronger than beer?” Dick felt he was going to need something more tonight. It had started as a mission, but now he was on the road to pass out drunk.

TAG @twitch WORDS 389

[Deleted]

"Not my parent's fault, just a nickname that stuck." He answered honestly, this time with a soft snort that almost resembled a laugh. But his eyes didn't leave the stranger, watching him, waiting for him to do something. Twitch had a penchant for honesty, and the origin of his name wasn't exactly secret. Nor was the fact that he preferred it to his birth name. He may not have gone through the legal process, but it was pretty easy to simply give his name as Twitch anywhere that expected it and then explain later if questions arose.

"Well, nice to meet you Dick." Alright, so that was a lie. The words fell flat, just mouthing pleasantries the way he'd been trained as a kid. At least it wasn't horrifically antagonistic anymore. If he has to face twenty questions he at least had a name to go with it. And a damn fitting one that that.

It never really occurred to him that someone else might have as many issues with hearing their given name as he did.

He shook his head and rolled the beer bottle between his hands- Twitch was fidgety by nature in addition to his namesake. He didn't sit still well, especially when under scrutiny. But even by himself, lost in thought, his body was always in motion. Hands fidgeting, knee bouncing- as though he always had an excess of energy.

"Nope." He really only drank beer because it a bar it was expected. Well, that and the nostalgia. "I'm a pretty poor drinking buddy." He'd only had hard liquor once that he could recall, and it was a major mistake. Stupid teenager at a party with liquor they weren't supposed to have. No regrets, despite the fact that he'd woken up with a hangover in a tree two miles outside of the city.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

`


Dick sneered to himself. Of course he doesn't drink anything but beer. He had a feeling that Twitch wasn't the kind of person to let his guard down. But Dick didn't care much about that. He was overly confident that he could handle any situation regardless of how drunk he was. Regardless of the fact that getting drunk and trying to fist fight a vampire was the reason he was even in Brookings to begin with. His entire life had been derailed by his family's death, and then put on an entirely new track when he tried to punch a seven hundred year old vampire and ended up being saved by a guild. The poor guy hadn't even seen Dick's fist coming and ended up losing his life over it.

Another notch in Dick's belt that brought him guilt when he couldn't sleep. He raised two fingers to the bar tender and he nodded in return. Dick had an interesting relationship with most of the bar tenders in the town. And so long as he paid, they had no problem filling him up with liqueur. Two shot glasses were set in front of him, both with a generous amount of vodka in them. It only took him a few seconds to down both of them and ask for replacements.

"Drinking buddies aren't always needed. How about you just keep Tiny over here from robbing me as I get completely rubbished? Yeah?" He wasn't really going to rely on Twitch, but maybe if he came off as vulnerable Twitch would loosen up his guard a bit. Dick glanced over at him, feeling nostalgic for a moment and then shaking it off. He had never been one to have touching moments, or have any moments with people really. He was more of a grunter instead of a conversationalist. And Twitch was making it incredibly hard for him to even attempt a conversation.

Dick pulled out his phone again, hidden from Twitch's view and typed a bit more. Doesn't drink. Doesn't talk. Doesn't like me much. He grinned as he typed the last one, no one ever liked him from his first impression... Or second or fifieth. Most of the people around him somehow saw past his crappy exterior and for some reason liked his crappier interior. He chalked it up to going soft after all these years of trying to help people.

"What brings you to Brookings, anyways, Twitch?" Dick added a bit more emphasis on the man's name than was probably needed, but he wasn't in a mood to pretend to be nice anymore. "I suppose you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but really, what else do you have to do right now?" Sulk? Like Dick was doing? Or maybe spend some time thinking about his life choices. Another thing Dick was doing.

TAG @twitch WORDS 476

[Deleted]

Twitch didn't like the way this was going.  He felt trapped, like Dick was trying to pen him in.  Not just physically with the casual leg block but by trying to throw out 'nice guy' obligations.  He shot 'Tiny' an almost apologetic glance even though he wasn't the one being a complete ass.  He may not have been being cooperative but at least he wasn't dragging other people into it.

Twitch tipped the bottle back and drained it. He had pretty much reached 'nope' level with Dick. "I'm not a babysitter." He set the bottle down and scrubbed his hands over his face. His fingers ruffled the short shorn hair on his head. He didn't even bother wondering what kept taking Dick's attention away. It didn't really matter.

"I'm teaching at the school." He rolled his eyes briefly and twisted on his stool, lifting his legs up and over Dick's guarding leg and standing up just past him. "And actually I think I'm going to get some rest. It's pretty late."

Lies. He was just going home to stare at the ceiling but he was done trying to make painful conversation. Besides, if he really wanted to he could make himself sleep. It was some kind of masochism that made him wait as long as he could stand between restful nights that were never truly restful. Still, staring at the ceiling sounded way better than listening to Dick be a... well... dick.  He started to slide off the stool to leave but he'd backed himself into a corner.  There really wasn't any way to get to the floor and then from the floor to the door without tripping.

Panic squeezed his throat tight and he finally tipped over that razor fine edge he'd been walking.  

Twitch was gone.

The bar stool he'd been sitting on tipped off balance from his vanishing act, teetered, then clattered to the floor.

RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON

[RICHARD BRUCE ASHTON]

Le Dick This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for? Why don't we break the rules already? TAG @twitch WORDS five three four NOTES I'll change the picture later.

There were few things in this world that Dick liked. His family had been one of those things, but they had been ripped out of Dick's life unjustly and far too early. His son had barely seen his fifth birthday before Dick was burying him beneath the ground. His wife had been the one thing in his life that made any sense to Dick and he would have given anything to grow old with her and die lying next to her in bed. He was a rather morbid person, and these kinds of things made him happy to think about. Alcohol had always been more than just a vice for him. He had enjoyed drinking all his life, when he was younger the alcohol helped to curb his need for drugs. It had been what got him through his depression over his wife's death and it was currently the thing that was keeping him from falling into depression all over again. Crossword puzzles were also a thing that Dick enjoyed. He didn't get to do them often, but when he did he truly relaxed and enjoyed his time working the muscles in his head. There were many things in this world that Dick hated. One being telemarketers. He realized that someone had to do this shitty job, and he knew that they really didn't mean any harm. But Dick couldn't stand that people would just cold call him and try to talk him into buying things he didn't want or need. He used these calls as personal time to vent all of his frustrations and hatred of the world. Telemarketers were his own personal therapists. They couldn't hang up on him, and he wouldn't hang up until he was satisfied. Then he would threaten them and wait for them to call again. But today Dick found a new thing to hate. A new person who made him realize that telemarketers weren't the worse thing in the world. Today he found the one person in the world, currently, that could truly annoy him and then disappear without a trace. Of all the powers that Dick had come into contact with over the last decade, this was a new one. This was one he wasn't entirely sure he could handle alone. He wasn't even sure what the guy even did. All he knew was that one second he was drinking vodka and trying to figure out how to get his bar buddy to become more chatty, and the next Dick had fallen off his chair. Dick had landed on his back, both of the stools that had been their seats currently laid on top of him in skewed angles. He had thought he heard a loud pop, but really he couldn't even remember what had just happened. His beer had tipped over, most of it splashing to the floor beside him and his trench coat soaked through with alcohol and lord only knew what else. Dick let the confusion and annoyance wash over him as he glared up at the ceiling of the bar and allowed his body to rest against the floor. "I'm going to kill that guy. If I ever find him." THE END!

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW