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Post by donte8 on Nov 1, 2010 12:47:54 GMT -8
TROY FRANKIE SPENCER [/font][/center] Demmi was with Ted, his horse. And she was keeping herself busy, she still had to ride and groom him and such. And no doubt she would take hours with that horse. She couldn't quite keep her hands off him. The dirty-blonde haired man smiled at the thought. It was good that he had someone to care for his horse, he couldn't face selling him after all. He was such a gentleman and didn't deserve it. He trusted him to the extent he was willing to leave his eight year old niece to it. Not that he had told her where he was planning on going. He wasn't about to tell her he was going to skip watching her ride for a good pint at the bar. But damn did he need one. And it was the only chance he got, well apart from when Demmi was at school. But he didn't usually drink so early in the day. But today, it was an exception. He hadn't had a drink in a while. And his head was hurting.
Or as Demmi would put it. 'His heart was hurting.'
Which was probably just as true. He'd lost his sister, his friends and his legs in the space of one year. And he'd gained the responsibility of looking after a child and his sick and elderly mother and father. The responsibilities were piling up all when he thought he couldn't cope. He had the added responsibility of caring for himself too. He'd found himself stuck in this new situation, confined to a wheelchair and expected to be able to go about his business as usual. Unfortunately he had had to wheel himself everywhere, since he couldn't drive. But he was planning on selling his late sisters old fashioned classic car. Which hopefully would buy him a much more modern version, adapted so that he could drive. And possibly even a pair of prosthetics. He knew she wouldn't mind, in fact, he thought she would wnat it that way. It would mean a better life for Demmi. He could actually chaueffeur her around a lot more, and a lot more safely than her going down on her bike to the stables or school. It was a lot to ask from an eight year old child.
He was broken from his thoughts as he approached the doors to Molly's Saloon. A smirk creeped on his lips as he imagined that frothy lager he'd soon be tasting. He turned the whee;ls on his wheelchair faster, even though his hands were aching. Another thing a car would save him, his blistered hands that he recieved daily. He had had to wrap them in bandages to keep them from being sore, but they still ached once he got home and submerged them in a sink of cold water. It always soothed them, but as soon as he took them out they started to ache and burn again. At least they weren't as bad as his legs. He entered the saloon swiftly, making no big deal of opening the doors, heading straight for the bar. He parked up next to the bar, unable to see over the top of the counter. He sighed. One of many disadvantages of being stuck in a wheelchair. You were unnoticeable to the rest of the world. Cleverly he rested his hand ontop of the bar and tapped on it, trying to signal some attention. In the end he resorted to waving. Eventually he watched as someone registered his arrival and came over, leaning over the bar as if he were some sort of child.
"Fosters please." He asked bluntly, annoyed at the bartender already. She nodded and went to pour the drink. He whipped the correct change out of his walet and placed it on the counter. And ready for them to add insult to injury he got out his ID and placed that on the counter too, next to the change. The woman returned, foolishly, picking up the ID card and scrutinizing it as if it might possibly be fake. Obviously not yet noticing why he was in a wheelchair. Did they think he was just being awkward. Possibly, and she was trying the best to be awkward back. Instead of handing his ID back to him she placed it on the counter next to his drink, grabbed the money and walked over to the till and resumed chatting to a member of staff. Grumpily, Troy snatched the card, stuffe dit back in his wallet and then too snatched the drink and made his way over to a vacant table. He put the drink down and organised himself, making sure to put the brakes on his wheelchair.
He knew people in here might find it funny to push the guy in the wheelchair around.
ooc;;
notes;; open!!
wearing;; coming! |
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Post by selena on Nov 1, 2010 15:41:26 GMT -8
She hadn’t gotten down to the stable today, instead stayed home and cleaned up the house and took care of her two, two month old daughters. Plus not to mention she had gone grocery shopping and had to get a little pick me up in the form of coffee. She was back at home relaxing on the couch waiting for her mother to come back from her meeting, her daughters contently sleeping in their pack and play. Every day she was reminded that he was not here anymore there were multiple times she would have to stop and choke back the tears the threatened to spill over. She sighed and closed her eyes but it wasn’t for long before she heard the tall tell signs of one of her daughters waking up. She sat up and walked over picking Vienna up and walking to the kitchen to prepare two bottles knowing full well that Sage would be waking up soon enough. She had mastered keeping them quiet while she made the bottles, she yawned and dabbed a little on her wrist deeming it fit she brought it to her daughters mouth and held her as she began to eat.
She heard her mom come in and she handed her over as she could tell her mom wanted to hold her. Selena go out and have some fun tonight, its been two months sense everything happened you need to move on and find someone else. Selena looked down and nodded, her mom smiled and she went upstairs to shower and actually get dolled up. She dried her hair and left it curly pulling it over her shoulder, she tied it there and slipped a black headband into her hair. She did her makeup and then slipped on a pair of dark jeans, a yellow tank top, a white lace tunic that had a brown belt and a dark pair of ugg boots. She went downstairs with her clutch and grabbed her keys and went to the closet to grab her peacoat. She turned and kissed her daughters goodbye and walked out the door.
Starting her car she drove to the bar and got out, walking in she ordered a long island ice tea. She noted a man sitting at a table alone but she felt just awkward all around so she sat at her own table. Taking her coat off, she hung it on the back of her chair and sat down she gave the man a soft smile, there was nothing wrong with him. In fact he was handsome despite the fact of being in a wheelchair and no legs but that never bothered her and people who just couldn’t accept that and gave pity well didn’t deserve to know a person like that even though she didn’t know him. Looking down at her drink she stirred it with the straw as a soft sigh left her glossed lips. She didn’t move from her spot instead just took a sip of her drink and looked down at her phone though do nothing just simply thinking.
occ
Notes: Eh..
Mood: Ok
Outfit: here |
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Post by donte8 on Nov 16, 2010 13:28:03 GMT -8
TROY FRANKIE SPENCER [/font][/center] Every single day he wished he had never enrolled into the army. He had never been extremely academic, but he wasn't thick. He had B and C grades mostly, a scattered A or two, so he wasn't dumb. But he was much more athletically able than he was academic. And unfortunately for him, he'd never had a clue about what he had wanted to do with his life. He didn't have any ambition to get a job. Which probably propelled him into enrolling in the ary. He had nothing better to do and he was fit and able enough to do it. So why not? It never occurred to him that it could be him who ended up on the wrong side of a bomb or gun. Even during the intense training and the numerous warnings they received about what they were getting themselves into it didn't hit him that he could potentially die. But this was true with many of his other comrades, they too were in it for the experience and the joys of fighting for their country. Ignorant to the fact they were putting their lives on the line for the sake of war. Maybe if he had had some realisation he wouldn't have gone to war. But they say it's easier to look in hindsight.
His thoughts were disturbed as a pretty blonde entered the bar. Although she didn't seem to happy. Sort of distracted, as if there was somewhere else she would much rather be. He felt the same, but he knew that his couldn't come true. He'd rather be playing football or hockey. But it would be impossible. He'd never heard of a football player without legs. Deciding to look away from the woman who had just entered he slipped his hand around his pint and took another swig. The froth forming on his top lip. He wiped it away with his free hand setting the pint back onto it's coaster. He hated getting tables stained with or dirtied by glass rim marks. It was a pet hate of his, and he wasn't even a neat freak. He just had to have a coaster to hand else he would refrain from setting his drink down and insist on holding it until he was done. He glanced momentarily back at the bar and caught the eye of the woman, a drink now in her hand. She flashed a smile his way and he felt obliged to smile back.
Not that he didn't want to smile at her.
She sat down on a table not far from him, hanging her coat over the back of her chair. She cast yet another glance his way before gazing down at her drink. Smirking he casually slipped the brakes on his wheelchair off and picked up his drink. Professionally he turned his wheelchair and slowly rolled over to her table. "Mind if I join you? I mean, there's no point in us both being a lone." He said light heartedly. He had always had a way with charm. He was quite an open person in general, happy to be around people and happy to talk to them. Pretty easy going and would take things in his stride, as he had done so with his accident. Or tried to do so at least. He put on a bravado when he was around people, anyone. Even his parents. The only people he let see when he was hurt was Demmi. Somehow that little child could work her way into his head and into his emotions. She didn't even have to ask how he was feeling and he didn't have to tell her. Most of the time, she could see it in his face. No matter how big the smile. Which was what he loved about that little girl. And he loved it more that she wouldn't say a thing and they would carry on what they were doing. Which was most likely watching Demmi's favourite movie, Dreamer. Bad film as far as he was concerned.
ooc;;
notes;; meh i got really cheesy in there too xD
wearing;; OUTFIT |
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