bad reputation [open]

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin watched the nightclub from across the street. She eyed the long line quietly before making her way across the asphalt. The shadows from the surrounding buildings made the dark streets seem like blacks holes. Larkin reached the other side of the street and stood quietly on the sidewalk. She looked at the line and then her eyes flickered over to the bouncers.

Larkin fixed her attention on the rope barrier. Slowly the metal stands began to move and in the blink of an eye they slid into the crowd. A few people at the front of the line fell over from the impact of the barrier. The bouncers hurried over to grab the barrier and help the people who had fallen.

Larkin crept past the bouncers and hurried into the club. She only glanced back just to make sure no one had seen her.

Larkin stopped for a brief second and found a way through the large crowd in the middle of the club. She pushed past the dancing bodies and finally made her way up to the bar. She watched a few of the people down drinks before she decided against trying to sneak herself one. Larkin pulled a stool towards her before she sat down and began surveying the dark club.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

Despite being dead, Oliver Miller held out his driver's license for inspection. The twenty-two-year-old shook and shivered despite the muggy heat of the night (he had become more in tune with pressure that indicated the coming of rain, like a cat or something), but he had decided two days ago that he would push himself and go do something new. He knew that he'd never be cured of his anxiety, since he didn't really have any chemicals to fight with anymore. And in for a . . . um, in for an inch in for a mile. He got the nod to go in, despite the scrutiny the bouncer gave him. Probably thought he was just twenty and flashing a fake ID or something, but he was legitimately twenty-two! . . . Or maybe twenty-three, if you wanted to get technical. But he didn't. He didn't want to get technical.

So he wound his way into the club, mouth feeling pointedly dry. He smacked his lips together uselessly, just as a blonde girl rushed past him. He turned back to see if maybe something was going on behind him--there was some kind of ruckus going on back there, but he couldn't tell for sure what it was. If he turned back now to go investigate, he knew he'd just slink away and not be able to face the feeling of murder-butterflies in his tummy and the claminess of his hands that wasn't even possible now that he lacked a body. Sure, he was visible enough, and he was solid, but no body. No skin, no hair, just . . . ecto-whatever. It looked and felt real, but it wasn't. He found the blonde's head in the crowd before him and made his way over in that direction. He wouldn't be drinking, but that was kind of the point! He hesitated, hovering by the other end for a moment, debating whether he should sit on a stool far away, and then casually make his way closer, or just go in for the kill. Not a real kill, of course! Just a metaphorical one.

But how could he casually move over like five seats without looking like a weirdo creeper? Then everyone would avoid him and think he was a shithead, thereby ruining the whole point of the night! . . . No. No no nono. He had to go in. He slowly made his way over to the stool next to the blonde, and sank into it in a way that he hoped was not too conspicuous. He pointedly looked away from her, focusing on the sculpted bodies pulsing along with the pounding bass. Colorful lights flashed and occasionally a strobe kicked in for effect. Okay. Yeah, he could do this. He could go out and dance like he used to. Well, maybe not quite like that, since that would mean not really dancing at all, but that wasn't really important at all, was it? Nope. Not at all. He stole a few sideways glances at the blonde.

Okay, he could ask her what was up outside. He just had to open up his mouth. What was the worst that could happen? . . . oh, god, the most loaded question. She could hate him and throw her drink at him! She could say nasty things! She could shout at him and make him feel like a cocoon of blankets really was much, much better than some silly club. No, stop it. Knock it off. Okay, he'd hold his breath, and wouldn't allow himself to take another until he had asked her. . . . Shit, except he didn't have to breathe. He could hold his breath until the sun swallowed up the earth and would never have to speak to the blonde. Or any other person, for that matter! But the habit was still valuable.

He mimed taking in a deep breath, and closed off his lungs. Or . . . the shadows of his former lungs. He could still feel things happening in his body, probably as a result of the lingering anxiety, but he didn't have the burning in his chest to push him to making the first contact. So he'd just have to go by motivation alone. Okay, just say excuse me, but did you see what was going on outside? there was a lot of noise when i came in, and she'll say something like, oh, there was a loose tiger in the parking lot! and that'll be that and then maybe we can talk a little, and then I'll go dance. Just do it.

. . . Now. . . . Okay, now. No, now. Shit. Oliver sat silently for a while, clearing his mind and focusing on the mimicry of breathing to settle his nerves. "Hey, did you see what happened outside? It was really noisy." There! He did it! He hoped the blonde would see his beaming grin as a friendly sign, and not his pride at actually being the first to speak.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin sat by the bar quietly with narrowed eyes. She watched the people dancing nearby for a while before turning her attention to another part of the club. As usual, there was a lot going on. It was always entertaining to go to a club and Larkin found herself at a second club in twenty four hours. The insomnia was getting worse and her aunt and uncle weren't really around to keep her company. Plus, her classes were over for a break and the time where she normally studied or went to class was completely free and for once Larkin wasn't exactly sure what to do with herself.

Larkin felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she turned her head to see the bartender watching her with tired eyes. She turned to look at him and she ordered a soda as if she was doing him a favor by keeping him busy.

When the bartender brought over her drink she handed him a couple bills for the drink and a tip. Larkin lifted the cool glass to her lips and took a long drink. The drink was cold against her throat but it was still very refreshing. Larkin hardly noticed the boy coming over to her when she looked down at her drink and took another long sip.

"Hey, did you see what happened outside? It was really noisy."

Larkin turned to look at the smiling boy. She looked around for a moment with a surprised look on her face. She set her glass down and stared at the boy for a few seconds. "Uhh...hi." Larkin had a sly smile spreading across her lips as she spoke. "Yeah I did. Why, did you see what happened?" Larkin's smile slowly began to fade and her tone became suspicious. She pulled her head back to take in the full image of the boy. There was something about him but at the moment she couldn't put her finger on it. She cocked her head and waited for him to speak.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

"Uh...hi," the blonde said, and for a moment, panic seized up Oliver's stomach. Oh, God, she was going to tell him to get lost and would call him names, and he would just die. Well, obviously he wouldn't actually die, since he had done that already, but that wasn't the point. But then a smile crept across her mouth, and he relaxed, pushing his shaggy hair from his eyes and licking his lips. "Yeah I did. Why, did you see what happened?"

"N-no, I was already inside, but I could hear people shouting, and then I saw you rushing past. Or, um, I think it was you," he amended quickly. What if he had picked the wrong person out of the crowd? He could have picked out a stranger to talk to for no good reason at all! No, no, that wasn't true; he was talking to someone he didn't know, he had started the conversation--that's why he was here in the first place. His gaze still dropped for a moment before he shyly looked back up through his eyelashes, and then panicked and looked out at the dance floor. He didn't recognize the music playing, but he had a very limited selection of music on his laptop, so that wasn't really a surprise. His focus shifted back to the blonde, back to the floor, and then finally settled on her nervously.

"My name's--" he cut himself off, realizing that he was too quiet to be heard over the music pounding and pulsing and popping through the heavy air of the club, and started again. "My name's Oliver, by the way." As he carried on more of this conversation, he found it easier and easier to carry on. He felt more assured that the blonde wouldn't just . . . turn and begin pummeling him or chase him away or anything like that.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

"N-no, I was already inside, but I could hear people shouting, and then I saw you rushing past. Or, um, I think it was you,"

Larkin watched the boy push his hair away from his face. She watched him quietly. Larkin softened up and a soft smile returned to her lips. She picked up her glass again and took a quick sip. Larkin turned on her stool so that she faced the boy.

"It could have been me." Larkin laughed quietly and set her empty glass down on the bar. She watched the bartender refill her drink out of the corner of her eye. Larkin's green eyes settled on the man again.

The music was loud and she could feel the beat coming up through the floor and through the stool. Larking loved loud music. She always felt comfortable when music played loudly for some reason. She glanced over at the dance floor briefly. "My name's Oliver, by the way." Larkin turned her head quickly when the boy spoke. Her eyes widened for a moment before they crinkled in the corners with a smile. "I'm Larkin." Larkin held out a hand. She always started out wary of people but her uneasiness didn't last very long.

Larkin picked up her drink and took a long sip. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until now. Larkin glanced down at the cup and rested it between both of her hands. She looked up with an awkward smile before it slowly began to fade.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

Oh man, she was smiling and turning and all of her attention was on him. But he could do this. He really could. Deep breath. In and out. No oxygen filled whatever took the place of his lungs, but the motions soothed him. "It could have been me." Oliver nodded.

"I mean, I saw your hair when you came in," he started, smiling more easily now, the ghosts of his spider bite studs grazing over his gums. "There aren't really any other blondes in the area, so I guess I picked well." The more he saw her face, the more he was able to actually focus on her face, the more Oliver felt confident that he had found the right person. Yeah, those stunning green eyes had imprinted on him even in a very brief glance.

"I'm Larkin." Oliver hesitated in taking her hand, but gave in and wrapped his wide one around hers.
"What kind of name is that?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. "Oh no, I don't mean to be rude! I mean, uh, shit, like, what nationality? Where's it from? I don't think it's dumb or anything!" He gathered himself, ready to slink off somewhere to avoid her rage.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin raised an eyebrow as she listened to Oliver speak. She watched him with a soft smile spread across her lips. She felt a bit bad for him, he seemed slightly nervous, however, Larkin just went on smiling as if she didn't notice. Her hands were beginning to get cold and she set her drink down on the bar. She interlaced her fingers at an attempt to warm her hands back up.

When Oliver spoke again Larkin's smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed into slits that only revealed a very small part of her green eyes. She pursed her lips as Oliver apologized. She reached up with a hand and began twirling a curled strand of hair around her finger.

"I believe your name is 'olive tree' in Latin." Larkin looked at Oliver with steely gaze before her eyes widened. Larking laughed and shook her head. She got questions about her name all the time and Larkin was used to it. She hardly took offense when people asked nowadays. "Larkin's Gaelic. It means fierce." Larkin almost mentioned that Larkin was a boy's name but she stopped herself just in time. Larkin took another sip of her drink and looked at Oliver over the rim of her glass. She licked her lips and set her drink down again.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

Oliver's heart would have begun pounding out of his chest with horror as he saw Larkin's eyes narrow and her lips purse in reaction. He had spoken too quickly without taking the time to think about what the hell he was saying. He shifted under her scrutiny and his shoulders slumped. "Oh man I'm . . . I'm really sorry, I just -- shit, I mean. I've never heard it before! And I just get curious about stuff like that, you know? It came out really wrong." He dropped his gaze and nibbled his lip. "I didn't mean it. Sorry."

"I believe your name is 'olive tree' in Latin."
"That's...that's not so bad," Oliver said, a sheepish grin crossing his features. "I mean, it's better than, like, 'Guy who sucks at everything and is a douche!' Which . . . is kind of what I feel like now," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing. If all else failed, self depreciation was always kind of a safe way to brush off the horrible feelings of awkwardness and anxious flutters in his stomach. But his face always managed to reflect more of the amusement than the struggle.

"Larkin's Gaelic. It means fierce."
"Oh! That's . . . I like it." Oliver's unending smile only widened--the first bullet dodged, he felt as though he might soon reach invincibility.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin watched Oliver as he continued to apologize. She simply sat on her stool and watched him with bright green eyes. She didn't move or make any motion for him to stop. Normally Larkin would have waved her hand for him to be quiet but she didn't. It wasn't like Larking was bathing in the apologies, she just didn't feel the need to stop Oliver in his tracks.

"Eh, don't worry about it." Larkin said with a dismissing tone. She really didn't mind because she had heard it all before. It wasn't like kids were exactly nice in middle school when they heard an odd name. Larkin had just learned to let it pass and if she really didn't like the person she could just use her ability to make their life a living hell.

Larkin cocked her head and watched Oliver with a guilty smile on her lips. She felt bad that Oliver seemed to be feeling so poorly. She shrugged her shoulders when he commented on the meaning of his name. Larkin had always had a fascination with names and their origins. Larkin had never known her mother and so she found a growing love for the past and mystery.

"Thanks. I like it too." Larkin returned Oliver's wide smile with a toothy grin of her own. She flashed her pearly white teeth for a moment before pressing her lips together in a hard smile. "Oliver's not too bad of a name, either."

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

"Eh, don't worry about it."
"Yeah, sorry, I just . . . I don't really know how to talk to people sometimes," Oliver admitted sheepishly. He was grateful that Larkin seemed to at least be patient with him, even despite his stumbles through their conversation so far.

"Oliver's not too bad of a name, either."
"Yeah, it's pretty good! I mean, kind of boring, and I don't really know anything about it, but, um, it's . . . I guess it fits!" Oliver settled in, tapping his toes gently against the floor in rhythm with the music, switching from heavy dance beats that could have played on the radio on the way over and remixed songs from the 1990s that he recognized from his shameless singing in the car as a child. He still sang, and pretty darn well! But . . . not in front of people. Oh, lord no. Even the thought of getting caught accidentally made him want to hide his face like a turtle retreating into its shell.

"Um, so, um, where are you from? Are . . . are you a college student in the area?" That felt like a fairly safe question, but it was more reason to keep up a conversation! It was getting to feel pretty nice to talk to someone else, in a setting that he had entered all by himself.

"Do you wanna dance?" The words left his mouth before he even had time to rein them in, but besides a minimal reflexive flinching right after he finished speaking, he didn't make any move to take it back. In for an inch, in for a mile, he repeated to himself.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

"Yeah, sorry, I just . . . I don't really know how to talk to people sometimes,"

Larkin cocked her head and for a moment her eyes lay unblinking. Larkin wasn't entirely sure how to respond to Oliver and so she gave him a soft smile. She had had her fair share of awkward experiences with people. Sure, for most of her life she was pretty social and she knew how to talk to people but it was in elementary school that she had always been the black sheep.

Larkin laughed cheerfully when Oliver spoke again. She wasn't laughing at him but since he wasn't laughing she couldn't exactly say she was laughing with him. Larkin didn't know Oliver enough to say that he was an Oliver but based on first impressions it seemed to fit him pretty well.

"Well I was born in Boston but I've lived in Chicago and France before coming here." Larkin took a sip of her drink and set it back on the bar. She watched the small ring of moisture from where she had put her drink earlier before speaking again. "I am in culinary school at the moment." Larkin looked up at Oliver with a wide smile. "What about you?"

Larkin was a bit surprised at Oliver's question. She sat up straight because she was caught a bit off guard. Larkin looked at the dance floor and then back at Oliver. "Sure." She said quietly. Larkin finished off her drink and hopped off her stool.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

Well, at least Oliver could make Larkin laugh! And not in a way that seemed mean or like she was making fun of him or anything. He'd learned to pick out the difference pretty well early on. "Well I was born in Boston but I've lived in Chicago and France before coming here."

"Wow, really? France?" Never having taken French, or eaten any French food, and not knowing a thing about fashion other than Paris was supposed to be a top dog in the clothing world, Oliver's real fascination was with a young American girl actually going off to a far away foreign place that he always heard was supposed to be like . . . this big glamorous mecca. "I mean, I can understand Chicago, I guess! It's at least in the same continent, but why France?" It occurred to him that the lavish life he imagined
(wearing big sunglasses and scarves that flowed in the wind as she raced through the French countryside sipping champagne and nibbling Madeleines in her red convertible)
was probably not...exactly...accurate. It was more likely that she was an army brat, or maybe even in witness protection! Though he didn't understand why someone in protective services would actually go out of her way to reveal exactly where she had lived. That seemed counterproductive! His eyes darted a little, as if trying to pick out a bunch of suits with tommy guns ready to ratta-tat-tat the whole club apart. Except for him, of course! Since he was already dead.

He sniffed reflexively, a bad habit he had picked up in his last moments that had also carried over to his new non-life. He didn't rub his nose, feeling a phantom tingle and burning numbness that the cocaine had left there before ending his life. "I am in culinary school at the moment," Larkin continued, seeming very interested in her glass.
"Oh, that's neat! What for? I mean, um, for dinners, or, um, desserts? I had a friend who was in to be a pastry chef at AI, but he'd never save me anything."
"What about you?"
...Shit.

Oliver hesitated a moment. How could he get around not knowing whether he could remain in school or not? He spoke slowly and carefully, but kept the corners of his mouth turned up, hopefully dissuading Larkin from thinking he was a lying creeper or something. "I'm studying art. I'm mostly interested in figure drawing and character design, and stuff like that." Yeah, that sounded pretty good! And it was technically true; he'd still go out and apply his learnings to watching people, drawing their scenes in his sketchbook (something he'd taken from his 'previous' life and which his father happily kept for him when he wasn't using it). He could browse the internet for critiques and tutorials without facing the possibility of being spotted by someone in the school who knew him from Before his overdose.

"Sure."
"Okay! Okay, yeah, good," Oliver said, just about bubbling over. He took her hand and gently tugged along, not forcing until she was ready. When she was, he tugged her along to the dance floor, finding a spot that wasn't on the edge, but wasn't too close to the middle, either. The bass pounded in his feet and his ears, and he began to move to it, trying out the motions before he got too caught up in thinking and retreated.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin had a wide smile on her face. Most people found it cool or interesting that she had lived in France. She still went to see her father regularly and she even thought of trying to go to Le Cordon Bleu to refine her skills after she finished up school in Philly. She knew it would be hard but she figured in a few years she would know whether or not she wanted to continue to pursue a chef's life.

"It's a long story." Larkin said with a half smile. "But long story short, my father lives in France." Larkin looked up at Oliver with a curious twinkle in her eyes. There was something about Oliver that was really beginning to get on her nerves. It wasn't Oliver that was bothering her but it was something about him. The fact that she couldn't figure it out was driving her crazy.

"I am not great with deserts, in fact I hate making them but I love to eat them. Odd, right?" Larkin giggled to herself and ran a hand through her hair. "I really like French cuisine but Italian is my favorite." Larkin wasn't sure whether she was partial to Italian food because her mother was Italian or because the food was simply amazing. She figured it was both.

"Tsk, tsk. What's with the hesitation Oliver?" Larkin said teasingly. "Art? That's neat. I can only manage a stick figure and a smiley face."

Larkin cocked her head and watched Oliver as he took her hand. She looked around for a moment before stopping in front of Oliver. A midst all the dancing Larkin noticed a few people that she knew and just a few of them were people she didn't like. With a crooked smile and a very subtle flash in her eye Larkin sent a few of her enemies tripping over themselves and falling into an unsavory couple. Within seconds an argument started thirty feet away, but Larkin pretended not to notice and continued on dancing.

[OLIVER FRANCIS MILLER]

"It's a long story. But long story short, my father lives in France."
So maybe it was just a big messy divorce, and Larkin had to flee to France to get away from her evil stepfather, or something, like a bad Disney movie! No, he thought, the army brat thing still was more likely. Unless her father was an international spy? 007, maybe? "Oh, well, that's still...pretty cool. Most of the girls in my school talk about, like, Florida as their hot vacation spots, you know? So I guess France is kind of a one-up on them. Oh, I mean--not that you're doing it just to show off!" Oliver bit his lip, trying to keep himself from rambling all over again. "I just...it's not every day that you find someone who's been to France at all around here, let alone lived there. Maybe some of the people around Olde City, but no one my age."

"Odd, right?" Oliver grinned lopsidedly, huffing out a small laugh of his own.
"I don't think it's odd! I think it sounds kind of like...everyone! I can barely make a cake out of a box, but I'll basically sit and eat all the desserts. All of them." Not that even when he was alive, anyone could tell! His skinny arms and the shadows along his ribs and hips hinting at the bones beneath his skin made his aunts and uncles afraid that he had never eaten a thing in his life. And now that that was the case, and he was stuck being always a little too skinny, he was pretty okay with it. It had never been an issue before, really, but even the teasing from his father (who sometimes would set out a plate and glass of water just out of habit when he came home for dinner) didn't even strike a hint of nerve. "I really like Italian too! I don't think I've ever had French, unless I guess crepes from the food truck over by Temple counts? I don't know, Olive Garden is kind of high class for me, too." His head tilted thoughtfully. It was so easy to slip into present tense for things like this. He wasn't necessarily ashamed of admitting he was a ghost or anything, of course, but he wasn't sure that he was . . . allowed?

"Art? That's neat. I can only manage a stick figure and a smiley face." Oliver never knew how to respond to that. It seemed like a very common response; it didn't annoy him or anything, like other people complained it did in his studio classes, but he just didn't know what to say. He'd tried variations like 'Oh, yeah, I used to be like that,' or 'Yeah, well, it's taken years to get past that,' but it all sounded ridiculous or immodest. So he just smiled and nodded, and focused on getting into a good rhythm to dance.

He didn't see Larkin noticing anyone else in the crowd. When he wasn't looking at her face, he was looking down at his own movements, trying to get them to sync up with the music. At this point in the room, if they wanted to speak, they would have to lean in and shout in each other's ears; he wasn't opposed to it just on principle or anything, he just hoped it wouldn't have to come to that, for the sake of simplicity. As Oliver found his rhythm, he swiveled his hips a little, bopping and bouncing and waving his arms around probably in a way that wouldn't win over a lot of ladies surrounding them, but which made him perfectly happy.

[LARKIN ELIZABETH HOLIDAY]

Larkin cocked her head and gave Oliver a curious look. She listened to him explain that he didn't think she was showing off. There was a soft smile on her lips as she looked up at Oliver. Larkin laughed and shook her head. She really had trouble with deserts and didn't really have the patience it took to make them. Plenty of her peers were good at making deserts but there were also plenty who preferred not to.

"Ugh, I know. Plus, they have that out-of-the-box taste."

Larkin shook her head again and continued to dance. She glanced around the dance floor for a few minutes and didn't even glance in the direction of the girls she had messed with earlier. Larkin wasn't an angel and she certainly didn't feel the need to lead people on to believe she was.

"Ooh, I like their endless breadsticks." Larkin said licking her lips. It wasn't exactly something a chef in training would normally say or be expected to say, but Olive Garden had been a place she frequented with her aunt and uncle when she was a girl. It was one of her comfort foods other than her father's cooking.