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He stared at their hands and shoved back all of the hell that came to him just thinking about not being able to do something as simple as hold her hand again. That was one of the problems with staying away from her for long, it always hit him full force when he realized that if he kept doing it, she could be gone before he knew it. And Damian was not about to let that happen.
The moment the shot glass was in front of him, he threw it back. At least getting drunk was a good distraction from the prior conversation. He smiled up at her and shrugged, "It's not like I've got anywhere better to go. Everything I could ever need is right here." He meant her, but he couldn't very well let her know that, "I mean, look at your liquor selection, I'm practically in Heaven." But mainly, he was just happy to sit there and flirt with the prettiest bartender he knew.
"Unless you're cutting me off already, c'mon, Luxie, I'll be good! No dancing on the bar, or maybe just the worm, the worm is hardly dancing." And he was not above doing as much if it got a laugh out of her.
Easier said than done. Although, that was his own way of looking at it. He had a much harder time taking care of himself when he was left to his own devices. Alcohol became breakfast, lunch and dinner while sleep was nonexistent. The only time he ever cared was when Jace was staying with him.
"The grass is much greener," On his side. Damian would have given anything to swap the way their abilities reacted with their bodies. His was hardly a pain to deal with, while hers was killing her. He'd have given anything to take that on for her. She knew that, he was positive she knew that, although he never said it out loud. It was strictly off limits talk for them because Damian was certain he'd cry.
He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze before replacing his serious topic smile, for his mischievous smirk. "Hmm, pour me something hard, baby," He waggled his eyebrows at her. "But nah, uh, I'll take a shot of your finest tequila, the champagne of liquors, annnnd a beer. Something dark, like my soul. Please and thank you, Buttercup."
Damian could only smirk at the way she fluffed him up. Obviously his ego was still as large and in charge as ever. It helped having friends like her who just couldn't help themselves around him. He was easy to love in the shallow sense of the word, he was good for laughs and good to look at, but he didn't dare think past that point.
As the tone of the conversation got a bit more serious, he could feel it pressing down on him. He'd never really liked serious conversation, although he knew it was inevitable. He'd asked the question and the two people mentioned were obviously her main focus. What struck the biggest chord was the way she talked about them. He wondered if the way she talked about Detective Cross was anywhere similar to the way that Jace spoke about him. Odds were that he had a much more colorful way of describing his dear old dad, although none of them were directly his words. His smirk fell and he cleared his throat with a nod, "Yeah, but you know your Dad. He's just trying to make sure this world isn't a shit show for you and Colby." The guy was probably the biggest influence in Damian's life without really knowing it.
"I'd rather you have a boring life like that than a whirlwind of crazy like mine, babe," Damian lifted his eyes up to hers and gave a small smile. It was easy to want better for her, given the fact that she already had a rough situation.
The way she leaned forward only fueled the amusement within him. She always humored him. It'd been a minute since he last saw her, constantly wrapped up in his woes, he found it difficult to find the time to see her. But that's what made their reunions all the better. She obviously missed him, she wouldn't have been quite so close if she didn't. He snorted in response and laughed, "That's cute, Luxie. I'm glad you missed me. Although, how could you not because my lines are the best." He shrugged and smirked, "Not everyone can be as good at it as me."
He was promptly ignoring the fact that she'd said worst, and instead focused on the way she smiled at him. It had taken him years to get there, he just remembered the way she used to look at him like he was crazy. Perhaps in his younger days he had been. He could honestly say he'd been a bit more reckless then.
Damian narrowed his eyes at her own nickname for him. Although, he supposed it was fair game, he had plenty of nicknames for her. "It's good to see you, too, Princess. How's life? Boring, I'd imagine, without me. But other than that?" Yes, he was that conceded that he truly believed he brought the life to the party on the regular.
Damian's mouth quirked up when she moved closer, more so at her question because she had practically read his mind. "As if you don't think you've got me pegged, too. We're all a little presumptuous in the legal department aren't we?" At least, he'd always thought so.
The explanation of her being in America was interesting to say the least. He couldn't imagine someone wanting to take part in this shit show of a country. Least of all with meta matters. He'd seen his fair share of messy situations in regards to hate crimes and the like. "No, you're right. Ballsy though, coming here to help fight it off." He shook his head before taking another drink, "It's sort of ironic that the metas are named the freaks, but the regular ol' humans are the ones that cause the most problems."
He didn't have any patience for hate crimes. And he was fairly certain that if anyone decided to pull one on him, he'd probably lose his badge for the amount of crazy he'd go on said person. But that's why he drank, to tame the insurmountable amount of rage that boiled inside of him. "How're you liking it here otherwise?"
It was a little weird, he'd admit, that he went to one particular bar in order to creep and flirt shamelessly with the bartender. He'd known her for a few years, meeting her not long after he joined TFC. It was probably against his better judgment that he flirt with her seeing as her father could make his life a living Hell, but thems the brakes. She was too young then, of course, he wasn't some creep that was into cradle-robbing. But once she hit adulthood, well, it opened up a world of shamelessness on his part.
Damian would say that it was mostly just to get a rise out of her, the red cheeks, a roll of her eyes, he lived for it. Which was why, saddling up to the bar, he made sure to sit right in front of where she stood so that she couldn't immediately escape him. "Excuse me, Miss, but I just noticed you noticing me and I just wanted to give you a notice that I noticed you too," He made it a point to find the worst pickup lines in the history of ever to use on Luxanna. And he had to admit that this particular one had made him snort the moment he read it.
"What's up, Buttercup? Work going well?" He had very little problem with the looks that he was receiving from the rest of the bar crowd, mostly because all he had to do was flash a badge and they wouldn't be looking at him like that any longer.
A legal consult. Well there it was, the tip of the stereotypical iceberg of why she acted so much more professional at a bar than he did. Lawyers were always composed, which was a large part of why he hadn't even considered studying law. Nothing about him was put together, but it seemed to fit her pretty well.
Damian laughed shortly and nodded, "Yeah, well, don't take it personally, I tend to keep my mouth shut while I'm working. Otherwise I might get into trouble." All anyone had to do was ask his ex wife, she'd give a long list of things he shouldn't have ever said. Through the haze of his own thoughts, he knew he should have connected the two for some reason. She was a lawyer, what did that have to do with his ex wife? It didn't come to him.
"What kind of legal work do you specialize in? Family stuff, criminal stuff? Or are you just that good that you do it all?" Because obviously there were some of those around and he wouldn't have put it past her to be that type.
He was definitely going to blame the slow pick-up of her accent on the shot of tequila. Although, now, it seemed to be banging him over the head. She was very British, which in truth explained a lot. Brits were naturally pretentious weren't they? It was like a part of their culture or something. That, and they only had about six actors that they cycled through for television, but that was as far as his British knowledge went. Of course, he had no intention of saying any of that out loud, so he just nodded into his beer.
He lazily lulled his head back towards her when she mentioned recognizing him from somewhere. It did kind of bother him that she could pick him out of a crowd so easily when he couldn't have done the same. He was trained to do exactly that, why was he so off today? Damian snorted and shook his head, "And here, I was going to whip it out after you had a little more to drink." It sounded much worse than he'd meant, although, the more he thought about it, perhaps it wasn't as unintentional as he liked to convince himself.
"I like to keep it on me for a few reasons, yeah. Easier to keep track of and, ya know, the wow factor when I do show people," Damian shrugged again and smirked. "I swear I should have known your face from somewhere, but I can't place it for the life of me."
The way she spoke, so well put-together even in a bar, it made him uneasy as well as curious. He had come across his fair share of people who stuck their nose up at him because he was rough around the edges, but typically they weren't sitting at the same bar at the same hour that he was. Something told him she wasn't doing it just to be pretentious, she must have just been smarter than he was. It didn't take much.
When the drink was set in front of him, the corner of his mouth quirked up and he nodded, "It's much appreciated, but in all the movies I've seen, it's usually the guy that does the buying." Although, he wasn't ungrateful and for all he knew, it could have been the wrong way to learn. "But thanks, seriously. It's been a helluva day," Damian glanced at her again and smiled.
"I haven't seen you in here before, you new to town or something?" Because he liked to believe he knew everyone that he needed to in his line of work. Although, when he was drinking, it was a hit or miss kind of thing. After all, that was his whole point of drinking.
A little stunned by her abrupt answer, Damian dropped his hand back down to the bar and set his bottle down with it. However, it didn't take him long before he tilted it back to his lips to take a long swig. That was the problem with bars, he never could determine which of the women were actually up for a good time and which seemed a little stiff and rigid. Although, the longer he looked at her, the more he realized that it should have been obvious.
"More enjoyable than my prior engagement was, doll," He gave a half-assed shrug and glanced up at the bartender briefly before finishing off his beer in another long swig. She was drinking wine, seriously, what had he expected? There was something familiar about her, although, he couldn't place where he'd seen her before because she was not his usual type.
Arguably, any woman was his type, but he usually went for the willing ones first.
It was always the same, after a long weekend of playing dad, the moment that Damian shut the car door on his eight year old to send him back with the woman that couldn't have hated him more, he went straight to the bar. There was nothing easy about parting ways with his son, even if he wasn't Dad of the Year, but it was harder when he wasn't quite sure what his ex said about him in their time apart. He drank to forget about her more than anything.
Damian knocked on the bar and got a beer as well as a shot of tequila. With a small salute to the bartender, there was no hesitation before he took the shot and washed it down with beer. His face scrunched up and he shook his head back and forth as the warmth of the alcohol spread throughout his body. The bar wasn't as full as usual, which he had no problem with, but he had noticed a face he didn't know.
Waving over the bartender, he offered to buy her next drink, whatever it was that she was drinking. The bartender nodded and not long after, the drink was set down in front of her. The bartender motioned towards him and he lifted his beer, "Enjoy gorgeous. One of us should."
AGE: 28 GENDER: Male ORIENTATION: Heterosexual POSITION: SPD Patrol Officer
♦ THE ABILITY ♦
POWER:Reactive Adaptation The ability to physically adapt to immediate threats.
Adaptations Included thus far:
- gills to prevent drowning (takes between twenty and sixty seconds to complete adaptation, as this is the time it takes until submersion) - increased body temperature in frigid conditions (takes a minute and thirty-two seconds for regulation) - decreased body temperature in suffocating heat (same as increased temp.) - increased oxygen in high altitudes (at most a minute to adapt) - skin changes to prevent severe burns (roughly takes about a minute and twenty-four seconds to cover whole body, less if only trying to cover one body part)
LIMITATIONS: -This ability is only triggered in dangerous circumstances, meaning he cannot call upon his ability whenever he chooses. -Adaptations exclude being shot, cut or breaking a limb -This ability cannot adapt to any internal medical problems such as; heart failure, disease or brain damage. -Some reactions maybe delayed longer than others (see above for times it takes for adaptation to form)
SIDE-EFFECTS: -Once the adaptation has taken its course, it lingers for hours, how many hours depends on the adaptation which means that in some cases he needs to adapt to his adaptation in order to not further his pain or discomfort. Once the danger has subsided for long enough and his body understands it is no longer in harm's way, he can return to normal routine. -Weak immune system -Migraines and muscle pain -Strange sleeping patterns (ranging from sleeping all day to not sleeping for several days) -The main side effect to this ability is the pain, it can feel almost like physical torture, however it only lasts as long as the adaptation takes to complete itself.
♦ THE FREEFORM ♦
The scene is painted as such; there's a family sitting around the table. Two men who resemble each other - tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a small, blonde woman in stature and a child who is the perfect mix of one of the men and this woman. Brothers, a spouse and a baby boy. They're all laughing, the youngest man cooing and tickling the little boy while the older brother and his wife watch with affectionate smiles. The edges of the scene are cloudy, blurred. And the voices start drifting away as Damian's eyes open to a cold apartment with broken heating and stark walls.
It's always the same dream. I'm always surrounded by this family that has to be out there, but that I've never met. I have a brother, I know that much. I can sometimes remember him, he looks a lot like me. And I feel like I know the woman he's with, the familiarity of the scene is sickening. I think it's part of my ability, my mind adapting to the harmful realization that my life isn't all that great.
Being bitter has always been a specialty of mine, bitter with my parents for bailing, bitter with the system for tossing me around from home to home, never settling in just one. If I hadn't manifested, I'm not sure what I would have become. Most of my foster families expected me to end up dead. I've always had this thing with putting myself into dangerous situations, you could say it got worse once my ability manifested.
When I manifested, it was just me seeking attention, I guess. My foster family had a pool, dozens of kids and hardly any patience for the reckless ones. I wanted to go swimming, I was thirteen and had energy to burn off. Well, of course that meant it had to be a group thing. They were busy watching the younger kids, making sure that they didn't accidentally drown. I don't think they realized I was even underwater. I wanted to see how long I could go underwater. One of the kids kicked me in the stomach while I was under and, well, I got quite the gulp of water. If my adaptation hadn’t kicked in less than a minute after, I probably would have ended up floating in their pool for all the other kids to see. Instead, they got to witness ‘gill boy.’ It took only about four days for the men in black suits came to get me (I'm kidding, they were actually wearing blue suits). Much as I wasn’t looking forward to going to the freak school, I was thrilled to be taken from that shit show.
School was better than I expected. I joined a few teams, made friends, wasn’t looked at like I had grown five heads (although I did sort of expect an adaptation like that with the way people constantly seemed to picture it). I was a good-looking kid, had no problem attracting anyone and I definitely didn’t have a problem with turning anyone down until it got serious. Commitment is a scary thing.
I skated by in classes, never really applied myself until I realized that I wanted to be something bigger than the kid who only made it into college because of a football scholarship. The last few years at Bellefonte, I maintained a B average, with the occasional A here and there.
The moment I graduated, I enlisted. I needed to put my ability to use, I needed a place to put all of my pent up anger and bitterness. And the military became the only family I knew. I had been dating a girl when I enlisted and after some heavy discussion, she chose the military lifestyle with me. We got married way too soon, but before I realized what I was setting myself up for it was too late. My son was born into a family that was never going to last. We divorced after only two years and she took him with her because I was in no position to be raising a kid on my own. Not with the line of work I chose. She’s hell bent on keeping him away from me to this day, but, ya know, the court isn’t as petty as she is.
I’d been considering getting out of the military for a while, I never wanted to be a lifer. That’s when I found out about TFC. It was the closest thing to a real life that I was going to have. It provided me with a family unit still, one of the many reasons I stayed in the military, and it still gave me a chance to protect people which was surprisingly one of the only things I was good at despite being perhaps a little selfish. In the military I was part of the bomb squad more or less, I knew the ins and outs of anything having to do with bombs. I also had a dog that was as well-trained as I was. I think that was what made me go into the police force as part of the K9 unit. Koda was as ready for it as I was.
And uh, well, that’s my life now I guess. I keep shitty people from doing shitty things here in Oregon. Jace is living with his mom just a few towns over (she couldn’t stand the thought of making something easy for me by keeping him in Stagfort). I live in a shitty studio apartment, despite being able to afford better, I find that it keeps girls from getting too comfortable. It works for the weekends that I get to see my son though. I’m twenty-eight with the mind of a sixteen year old still I guess, but what can ya do, right? I never had the influence of a decent human being, why should I be expected to be one just because I know what’s right and wrong?
♦ THE PLAYER ♦
USERNAME: Trix AGE GROUP: I'm a baby EXPERIENCE: About half of my life, which is kinda hard to believe WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Mel did it
