- - - YOU CAN'T DECLINE

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 576, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Usually Blaire didn’t mind being called in to work early, but tonight was game night. Not something she particularly enjoyed. When you worked at a bar, game night meant a lot of drunk men arguing over which team was better. Blaire couldn’t give two shits about sports, so she always hated working days like these. But she needed the money, so she wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for extra cash. After all, she got good tips on nights like these. Half of the time she guys couldn’t tell male from female, and all they needed to see was her long blonde hair and girl’s clothes. Blaire’s physical gender wasn’t exactly easy to hide, after all. She had very manly hands and an Adam’s apple that she couldn’t get rid of. She was kind of hoping the Saints would lose tonight so she could get off of work early. She really didn’t feel like serving the guys who watched the game, and then serving the players afterwards. Well, they might not come here even if they did won. There were other bars to go get drunk at. Wishful thinking.

She had taken her dear sweet time getting ready for work, changing from the outfit she had worn to class that morning into a flirtier one. At least she thought it was flirtier. A white tee shirt was underneath of a black top with a very deep v neck that was more like a dress on her. Purple and green tights covered her manly legs, and a pair of boots were on her feet. Her blonde hair was neatly brushed and lightly curled, left cascading down her shoulders so hide her more masculine features. Her soft green eyes were lines with purple shadow, and she had some light pink gloss on her lips. She seemed to be doing a lot of wishful thinking tonight, but the chances of meeting some hot, rich guy willing to date a chick with a dick were slim tonight.

Serving the guys watching the football game had been, as usual, boring and uneventful. She didn’t bother watching the game at all, and spent most of the time she wasn’t making drinks gossiping with the other two girls she was working with. She got along pretty well with the girls, which helped with her boredom, and had fun talking to them at least. They treated her like most girls their age treated their closest gay friend, which was a bit annoying, but at least it was entertaining. Better than watching football. When the game finally ended and the guys starting piling out she couldn’t be more thankful, and then she found out who won. Oh God, please don’t come here, please don’t come here, please don’t come here.

Too much wishful thinking for Blaire. She could hear the team before she could even see them, and groaned in annoyance when they piled in the doors of the bar. “Oh goody,”

[/color] she muttered to herself as she watched them pile in, quite irritated with the level of testosterone she was getting tonight. That was the last thing she needed when she had this job just to get rid of hers. She had no choice though; there was no backing out now. She stepped away from the two other bartenders she was on shift with and stood at her end of the bar, leaning against the counter and waiting for the drinks to come.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY

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[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

[/color][/size]

Anne loved her job.

Adrenaline surged through her with every play, with every pass, and rush for that line, with every tackle she made and every touch down - yes, indeed, Baurer scored a few of those, looping and forcing her way on her feet to that end line. Silly boys. Fuck, the announcers called her a "he" half the time ("No, wait, Bob, you forgot again, Baurer's a 'she'") But in the middle of a game, she really didn't care. She just focused on what she had to do. The crowd wasn't there, the screaming coaches weren't there there was only her boys and their quarterback, the other boys, their quarterback and the ball, and she damn well knew what to do with it. People only mattered when they mattered to what the play was doing. Beyond that, she didn't care that Doug had to be carted off for an injury. He fumbled the fucking ball, and as such, she'd do him an injury. Well, she almost would, but they needed the dude when he was in one piece again. Fatigue wasn't an option, either. No matter how tired she got, she would play. There were reason for this. First, she needed to play, she couldn't stand it when she didn't. Secondly, she had to prove herself; while she'd done that well enough, it was never enough to her, never enough to prove herself. Never. Because somewhere out there, her parents might see the results of the game in the paper. And that was revenge.

The Saints pulled ahead, little by little, and kept increasing the margin though halftime and throughout the game. The win was a clear-cut one, and everyone was elated as they reentered the locker room, smelling like grass stains and sweat, hollering victory chants at each other, beating the others with a towel, and goofing off in general. Anne was any one of them. She dunked water on Robert's head, punched Freddie - hard - and lounged around in her boxers and a sports bra as they listened to coach rant on, red faced about their win. "I saw we get a drink!" Their quarterback called. "Victory rounds on me, men! And Baurer!"

"And you're a man?! My ass!" Anne retorted, cocky Bronx accent ringing out as some other team members went "oooh" in that false-gasp way. "I'm more man then you could ever hope to be, and that is why you are buyin' our drinks, comprendo, kiddie?" Anne got up, but she was grinning, as was her as he stood around in a towel. Everyone picked on everyone, it was just the way of showing sibling-team affection. No biggie. If Anne had been offended, he'd have been dead just now she was pretty sure. She walked over, grabbed him and shoved him against a locker, then back at the shower-area in the corner. "Now go get your clothes on, dude, if you want that drink. That counts for the rest of you, and yes, me too. Ya think I should grab my goatee?" She asked with a laugh, brown eyes twinkling with adrenaline of a fight and a win. They laughed, but Anne didn't have it here, anyways. That was in her house, for fact she didn't generally "pull a drag king" when out with the team. The quarterback called to put on a second, non-sweaty and gross jersey, and they all did so, ready to hit a night on the town. Most of them, Anne supposed, were probably going to get wasted and spend night with a lady. Or a dude, a couple of them had done that before. Anne would watch them get drunk and stupid, which was just as much fun. Her temper was the worst of them, not to mention she knew what to do in a fight, so she didn't risk herself drunk. Still, a virgin drink and a night on the town sounded awesome. It did every game they won, regardless of what city they happened to be in, moreso if it was like this - a home game.

They were rowdy, loud and mildly obnoxious as they stormed into the Cat's Meow with some semi-rabid Saint's fans, in their jerseys and jeans. Anne blended well with them. She was muscled and her bright ginger hair was cut short, not to mention her height did her good. Adam's apple? Pah, not all guys had an obvious one, she could deepen her voice well enough. Anne shoved aside one of the fullbacks, who shoved her back, and soon they were in a showing battle, like a bunch of elementary school kids as they all found places at the bars, placing their orders and changing the quarterback. Anne found herself a stool second to last on the row, near a booth of her buddies. The teammate beside on the bar her caught one of the bartenders, a blonde girl who looked less than pleased, receiving drinks. He got hers and grabbed Anne's, handing it off to her. "And the virgin one for numero eight." He announced. Anne took a sip, put it down on the bar and then gave her friend a light punch to the head, well, light enough considering Pete took enough hits to the head to not pass out.

"'Least I wont 'ave one and be puking it up afore the second one's all the way down, Petey." Anne replied, leaning back at the bar and watching everything while the other got into conversations or arm wrestles. She spun on her stool to get another drink, chuckling at the irate look of the bartender, which she could make out even in the bar's low light. It made her chuckle. "'Hey, it could be worse!"

-------
words| 959
tagged| Dee / Blaire
notes| My Anne muse is is certainly feeling fit. O.o

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 653, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Blaire had not enjoyed gym class as a kid. To be honest, she couldn’t think of a single good thing that had ever happened in gym class. She had been that one little boy who could never seem to do anything right. She would fumble the ball, or get hit with it, trip all the time and always get picked on for it. Blaire and sports did not get along, well, more specifically Benjamin and sports didn’t get along. When you were a transgendered child your peers didn’t always understand you, which meant that they picked on you. A lot. There was no doubt in Blaire’s mind that she wouldn’t have survived school without her sister’s help, because high school had been much crueler about their bullying. Teenagers played dirty and could do a lot more to a person. But at least she only had to take gym in her freshman year, and that had been the end of that embarrassing horror. Watching Blaire attempt to partake in sports was like watching a blind man walk into a pole. It was kind of funny for you, but completely humiliating to her. It was safe to say her grudging attitude toward game night was a personal vendetta, but not one she was willing to admit. There were too many adrenaline-pumped guys around for her to say that out loud.

Her green eyes rolled when she heard the rowdy and slightly obnoxious crowd of football players. She had heard plenty of stories about the team coming here, but had never worked late enough to actually be here when the team was here. She watched the men pile in, taking no notice of the female that blended so nicely in with them. She watched the team shove each other around like they were in primary school. It was kind of sweet. Unconventional, but sweet. It was plain to see the bond that these guys had, even if they handled each other very roughly. She was kind of glad there was a bar in between her and the Saints. They would break her if they shoved her like that. She couldn’t help but look down at herself, feeling rather frail in comparison to the beefy men who had just piled in Cat’s Meow.

She tried to hide her irritation when the players started piling over to the bar, taking her position near the end and getting ready to make or grab drinks. She figured beer would be the most common drink of the night, which would be no problem. It wasn’t until the ginger sat down in front of Blaire when she noticed it was a girl. It was oddly satisfying to see such a masculine woman playing among the boys. Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Trying to find something positive in tonight, she started passing off drinks, making a virgin one and handing it off to the guy. She was actually surprised when he announced it was for the ginger woman, and almost flinched when the ginger punched the guy in the head. Yes, she was definitely glad that there was a bar in between her and them.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the ginger’s taunts, feeling her mood lighten a bit. “You puke on my floor, you’re the one cleaning it up,”

[/color] she threatened with a playful wink, though some of her irritation was still clear on her face. “Yeah, I suppose it could be,”[/color] she agreed. “It could be Budd night. That’s when all the sluts within a fifty mile radius come out to play,”[/color] she snickered, leaning forward on the bar. “You the designated tonight?”[/color] she asked, referring to the virgin drink. She was hoping it wouldn’t be so bad talking to the ginger girl, who looked manlier than she did. Which really wasn’t saying much actually; even before Blaire started taking hormones she was pretty feminine. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY
notes: apparently haha

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[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

[/color][/size]

At some point in the night, the majority of her team was going to get wasted, even though there was going to be a practice just after noon tomorrow. Most of them, she assumed, had gotten good at playing with hangovers or removing them quickly. She didn't think she'd enjoy getting hung over, frankly, but it was funny as anything to scream at them when they complained their head hurt and she finally got sick of it.

Anne spun around in her stool once more, in an almost childish way, then turned to face the bartender when she spoke, winking at Petey. Ohboy. THAT would give him ideas, no doubt. Though there was something off about this lady, yeah? Just...hm. Adam's apple. Well, it was feasible that a girl could have one, seeing as it was just essentially a voice box extension; the vocal chords got long when guy's voices broke, but her voice didn't sound very male at all. She raised a ginger eyebrow, but forgot about it, laughing at the comment, and at the irritation the bartender had. "Good luck getting him to do that!" Anne remarked, knowing that he probably was going to puke, but he did generally get outside before he did. If not, she'd laugh, this this girl, at least, that was what Anne was going to go by for the moment, might try and kill him. She looked so frail though. Like she could be quite literally snapped in half. Anne took a another swing of her drink as she listened to the blonde bartender go on about Budd night. Eh. That did probably suck, working through it, though after a look back at her crew (a couple of them were chasing skirt already), she doubted they would mind. For them, being a little bit -or a lot- of a player came with the turf, though it didn't, not with Anne. Probably one of the few real differences she has between her team and herself. At the mention of being the driver, both she and her eavesdropping friend snorted, almost spitting out their drinks. Anne punched him again, and he grumbled, not saying a word. Good child he was, sometimes she could make him see sense. Good only knew for how long, he was half done his first drunk and the bartender had winked. "Well, what d'you think would getcha the worse situation, DUI or drivin' without a single drivin' lesson? 'Cause if it taint the latter, I might just do it, but tha's what the bus driver is for, yeah? Mindcha, I am pretty good with a go-kart, and those thing can go if you mess with the safety they put on for the kids." Oh, the day the fair had come. She had been fifteen, and that race had been quite something. Mind, she could never attended that particular carnival every again, well, they'd said for eighty years, so if she ever felt like a joyride on her hundredth birthday...the go karts would beckon her once more. Though in all seriousness, Anne did need to learn to drive, since she had no idea if she'd return to her home city every again, to live. It was somewhat saddening, that all that was left of a family in the area was now a single old lady.

Anne pointed out the window to the bus, which was trying to find a parking area. "Gotta love Sigster, drives us bastards everywhere, now that warrants a drink! Naw, I just drink 'cause I can beat the living crap outta anyone here, AND THAT IS A CHALLENGEM BY THE BY," She called out the last bit into the bar. If anyone wanted to take her up on it, she wouldn't mind at all. "Nevermind if I got drunk and stupid. 'Sides, who'd save their sorry drunk arses?" She nodded out to the team, then gave Pete a shove when he tried to protest. "The way you're lookin', I might have to." Okay, the chances of this kid doing anything like that were slim to none, but she still didn't seem pleased. Not a sports fan or something. It was each to his own, but not to like sports...good god, the idea to her was alien.

--------------
words| 787
tagged| Dee / Blaire

[/size][/justify]

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 595, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

While Blaire was a bartender, she was not legally allowed to drink yet. She wouldn’t be allowed to drink for a few months yet, and frankly she had no motivation to. Frankly, the idea of stumbling around like an idiot didn’t sound too appealing to her. Blaire hadn’t been working at Cat’s Meow for very long, but she had been there long enough to decide that she had absolutely no plans on getting drunk. The guys always wanted fights and the girls paraded around with next to nothing on. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t see how anyone could treat their body so poorly. Pouring alcohol down it, which was pretty much poison, and screwing the first guy who would bring you home. That wasn’t how you treated your body. Her opinion on this was a little biased, and she was being a little judgemental, but she believed it to be the truth. For someone who didn’t have the body she knew she deserved, it always made her mad to see such beautiful girls flaunt themselves around. Devi was the soul exception to that though, because she deserved to show off a body that good.

“Thanks,”

[/color] she said with a slightly forced smile. “I’m going to need it. Same goes for everyone else in this bar too,”[/color] she threatened. Really, Blaire couldn’t care less if the guys puked. Since working here she had grown used to the gagging sound and the disgusting smell of vomit. It no longer bothered her, and she wasn’t the one who had to clean it up. There were people who came after everyone was gone who cleaned up all of the vomit and spilled booze. She would hate to have their job; they must be pretty desperate for cash. She was too, but not enough for that. Maybe she should take a second job, because that surgery was expensive and working here only got her so much. Though, Devi did offer to write on her bra and set up a donation jar for her at the Saloon. The thought made her smile. That was good, keep thinking about nice things so you didn’t seem like a bitch to the customers.

She almost winced every time the ginger punched her friend. What a weird relationship football players had with each other. How many brain cells did he have left between getting punched in the head and tackled in a game? That, by the way, was all she knew about football. They got tackled a lot and everyone seemed to love it. She gave a light laugh at the ginger’s next comment, seeing her point when she brought up the options. “You’ve got a point,”[/color] she agreed with a more genuine smile this time. “Oh, a bus! Good idea,”[/color] she smiled. She couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of the ginger girl racing down a go kart track, kicking the asses of all the little kids. She wondered what kind of punishment the ginger had gotten for messing with the safety. If any. For some reason Blaire wouldn’t be surprised if the ginger hadn’t gotten caught.

“The beatings will have to be done outside though,”[/color] she pointed out. “Because something tells me the guys won’t be the only things getting broken,”[/color] she teased lightly. She glanced out the window to see the bus, then turned back to the ginger. “Do you two have names or am I going to have to call you Beevis and Carrot Top?”[/color] she jested, hoping taking a chance to be sarcastic wouldn’t get her punched.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY

[/size][/blockquote][/center]

[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

[/color][/size]

Anne really didn't mind spending time with the team, or just her friends, in a bar or club. She was not for the whole 'let's go bedhopping' thing many people held as some sort of drunk ideal, but it was funny as anything she'd ever done to put on the fake goatee and go to town as Morgan. She'd always funny that she'd be more likely to be kicked out of the bathroom made for her own sex than the other way around, and at times, she used the fact that had once slapped her in the face. Got a problem with it? Morgan would very nicely laugh.

Now, Anne was not very very socially adept person, so she had no real idea that the bartenders smile was forced. All her strengths had been bundled one way and being socially adept was not one of them. "I guess you'd stand a chance if y' grew a foot, or packed on one hell of a lot of muscle." Anne mused, half to herself as someone put on music. The loud sort that got a person pumped and she grinned savagely, enjoying the atmosphere. That was probably helping in contribution to Anne's constant beating of the nearest player to her, though this was quite a common occurrence. if Petey hadn't been so focused on not throwing up his drink, he might have hit back, even. All Anne knew was she seemed to be on a roll talking to this girl-guy-human-person in that she was smiling, and seeming to enjoy the jokes. Very good. Sometimes it was nice to make people like you without having to pull out the brass knuckles, though that worked very well too.

"C'yeah, that bus and Sig had saved our asses more times than I can count. He always seems to end up wherever the hell we are, even if he had to drive all night to do it." The ginger did have respect for that man, a shard of it. He had nerves of steel, to deal with them and not go red in the face like coach did. She took another swing of her drink, looking around at her team before spinning on her chair, around and around to finally face the bartender once more as she as she spoke. "Pah, I'd break things outside, too. Mainly those babies." She jerked her head to the rest of the people. "They dun stand a chance in hell." She spun back as the bartender looked back at the bus, quite enjoying the little spinney stool, "THAT'S STILL A CHALLLENGE, CHILDS." She shouted out again. Someone would take her up on it eventually, once they were drunk enough. She didn't care that she'd get in a random fight, and then have to get on the go, football and boxing tomorrow, that was all part of the fun. If she didn't go to bed exhausted, she had not worked hard enough. Then back again on the stool as she watched Petey down his first drink, looking a bit pale. He swallowed as the lady spoke again, stating she could call him Petey. Anne's reply, considering she was not holding down bile, was a touch more conversational. "This, lady, is in no way carrot colored. It's a red ginger, thank you." Anne pointed to her head, voice deepening a little more than the boyish tone it formerly had. Now had it been on tone alone, one might have assumed Anne was pissed off, but she was smiling all the same. "Name's Anne Baurer, 'alfback for the Saints, who at the moment are all sinning. AKA Annie-boy, Ginger Fury, whatever the hell dumb and dumber crew can come up with, yeh? Who're you, then?" Anne asked as "Beevis" got up and ran outside. "What did I fuckin' say, Petey, that happens every time. Might as well get 'im another to get the taste out of his mouth." She shook her head and chuckled under her breath.

------------
words| 770
tagged| Dee / Blaire
notes| Sorry this took so long. School = not nice.

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 714, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Blaire joked around a lot with her friends that she was going to find herself a hot, rich man to settle herself down with, which was why she worked at a bar. While, yes, she kind of did hope to find someone on the wealthy side, she hated feeling like that was all she would want out of a relationship. Blaire had never been the type to go from partner to partner, and had really only been in one serious relationship. She had had several boyfriends and girlfriends, but she had never gone in to the relationships thinking about money. Blaire wasn’t working at a bar to find someone rich; if she was going to find a rich guy at a bar she’d be working with Devi at the Saloon. Nah, she were here because they were the first place that called her back. She didn’t mind it, even on the days she got irritated.

She gave a snort at the ginger’s comment. “Honey, it was hard enough getting to this size, the last thing I want to do is get bigger,”

[/color] she sassed playfully. “Besides, I have bouncers to deal with the messy ones,”[/color] she smiled, playing with her hair a little and tapping her foot to the music that was turned on. She actually didn’t mind most of the stuff that was played here, and actually found herself singing along to most of the songs by the end of the night. Too bad she couldn’t be on the other side of the bar dancing with someone. This ginger girl didn’t seem like much of a dancer though. It was kind of disappointing.

She glanced over at the ginger’s friend, deciding she wasn’t going to be giving him any more drinks. As the bartender, she decided when it was enough for the people she served. The customers could get as angry as they wanted, and they often did, but she had every right to stop giving them drinks. They were her responsibility, and she would feel bad if someone got alcohol poisoning because she didn’t cut them off. She would probably feel bad if even the rude ones got hurt because she didn’t stop the from over indulging. Blaire was one of those people who would give someone a second chance if they were rude to her, or anyone else, while drunk. She wasn’t the type to see it as a truth serum; instead it was a drink that caused people to become raving idiots.

“Sig sounds like a pretty sweet guy,”[/color] she smiled, resting her forearms on the bar counter and leaning forward a little. She was still a little weary of the ginger though, because she really didn’t feel like getting punched like her friend was. Blaire had grown used to people spinning on the stools, so the fact that the ginger was going it was barely being noticed by the blonde. She couldn’t help but admire this girl’s confidence. It was refreshing, and definitely not what Blaire had. She had very little belief in herself, so she always admired the people who seemed to know exactly who they were and what they were meant to do. This girl was meant to be one of the guys, and Blaire was sure she was supposed to be one of the girls.

“It’s a pleasure Petey,”[/color] she smiled to the man before focusing once again on the ginger. “You’re quite welcome,”[/color] she teased, perhaps flirting a little. She hardly noticed when she flirted with people any more; it had become second nature to her. “I think I’ll stick with Anne,”[/color] she smiled after listening to the list of nicknames the ginger had. “I’m Blaire Valdez, fashion student and server of drunk idiots,”[/color] she introduced, using the nickname she had come to cling to. It had been years she had actually called herself by her real name; her parents using it didn’t count. “Aww, well at least he went outside,”[/color] she voiced as she watched the guy, Petey, run outside. She kind of felt bad for the guy, and started mixing him a virgin drink. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell him it was virgin. It would be her little secret. Oh, and Anne’s if she paid close enough attention.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY

[/size][/blockquote][/center]

[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

[/color][/size]

Anne really was astounded at the comment the bartender made. She didn't want to be bigger? For a girl's who whole life was being large and muscular, to not want to be that was...frickin' weird. End of story. "But you can beat people!" She protested. Screw the bouncers, half the fun would be throwing people out! If Anne hadn't been so preoccupied with sports her whole university career, she might have indeed become a bouncer. "That's fun!" Okay, okay, so little miss (or mister) in the girly clothes probably didn't think so, but there was nothing, NOTHING, like winning out of sheer force. It wasn't a brain-on-a-stalk game like chess, and it wasn't as skill-based as something like diving, but it was still irreplaceable. Her games, beat up the other guy until he couldn't even try to beat you, was the oldest game out there! It just meant to be. There was something inexplicable and primal about it, something everyone was born with, yet all but the "bullies" and "violent ones" ignored. Hell, even the military and police didn't tap into it, they funneled it into cold blooded action mostly. Pah. Bah to them, and their "civilized tastes". She'd show them civilized. With her fist.

The redhead was still spinning rather incessantly on the stool, an almost childlike motion, pausing slightly when she noted the bartender was relaxing, not looking like a drowned cat in mud and in a cage near dogs...okay, maybe she hadn't been that mad...anyways. "Sig's awesome." Anne muttered, half-tempted to go chuck a rock at the bus and wave to say high. For some reason, he never really liked that. People seemed to tolerate what she did more than actually like it. Outside the niche of violent sports, most people didn't really like how she behaved, barring her grandmother. But yet, take away "civilization" and she'd be the one surviving, she'd be more than surviving, she'd be the feared ruler in her eyes. Too passive? Dead. Darwin had proven that. Some said aggression was the result of bad genes. Not in her eyes. It was the result of ones that had survival in mind.

Anne gave off names and noted dully that the bartender was acting somewhat flirty, and she pondered to who for only a half second. Had to be Petey. Most people weren't into girls that behaved, let alone could out muscle, a man. Though, on the other hand, Petey had said anything recently, let alone something that would warrant a "you're welcome". The hell? Okay, that thank you was not getting a response from no one. Besides, a flicker of the "the hell?" she had thought a moment ago. The conversation come back form it's weird blip and onto names. Blaire. Huh. Not a bad name. Anne watched Petey run away, snorting at the 'aww'. "His fucking fault." She shook her head, but far from being condoning, she was quite amused. "Niceta meetcha, Blaire," The name seemed to decide the gender. Blaire was a girls name, therefore, even if this was a male, he wanted to be a she, at least tonight. "O fashion-kiddie and server of drunk idiots." Anne smirked when she noticed the drink being mixed was not going to contain alcohol. Probably for the best. "Niiiiiice, he's gonna be so effin' pleased with you. But I dun reckon he'll fight it. So, you're at the uni...huh. Used ta go there m'self. Got my degree and in tha draft and I'm not goin' back." Not that Petey was at the very least momentarily removed, Anne didn't have anyone else to talk to, even she knew just upping and leaving in the middle of the conversation was rude. "So what year of playin' dress up are you in?" Well, the hell else was fashion than dress-up from the grown-up?

------
words| 750
tagged| Dee / Blaire

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 577, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
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Blaire had never really been a violent or aggressive person. She supposed that came from being the one that was always bullied. She had never gotten a chance to be the aggressive one, though she had been in more fights than she could count. As a kid she had been too afraid to fight back, and by the time she was strong enough to actually do damage with a punch she didn’t have the courage or the will power to. Having spent most of her life being bullied, she didn’t like the idea of beating people up. It felt hypocritical. “I think I’ll leave all the beating to you,”

[/color] she smiled, trying to shove back all of the unpleasant memories. “I’m not a very destructive person,”[/color] she shrugged. “I’m all empty threats and sarcasm,”[/color] she laughed softly.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be afraid of the ginger, or whether she should admire her ferocity. She was starting to lean toward being frightened, but that was subject to change. First impressions were never very lasting with Blaire, who tended to give you one hundred chances to redeem yourself before she gave up on you. Not exactly her greatest quality. Well, she would do that unless it was something bad, otherwise she was spiteful. She was still holding a grudge on someone from her freshman year of high school. Blaire was certainly not a male in any way but her lower half. No man could be this grudging and bitchy.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t spend more time spinning in the chairs than she did tidying up after the drunks had all gone home. Yeah, she really liked those spinning chairs. And she especially loved watching drunk people fly off of them when they were spinning. That would never get old. She pushed that thought out of her mind and focused once again on the ginger, taking in the smaller details now that she was leaning on the counter. Blaire hadn’t been in to very many girls, but the found the ginger kind of…cute. Cute in a very masculine way. Wait. Was that even possible? Who knows. Either way, Anne was both cute and terrifying. Like a kitten that still had its claw; it was adorable and playful, but could rip your face off in an instant. “It’s possible to be allergic to alcohol,”[/color] she pointed out. “Which wouldn’t be his fault,”[/color] she added, though even the tone of her voice said she highly doubted that was the case.

“Nice to meet you too Anne,”[/color] she smiled, still flirting without realizing she was. “He better be pleased!”[/color] she defended. “I’m making this especially for him,”[/color] she laughed, then proceeded to nod at the ginger’s question. “Sophomore,”[/color] she answered. “And it’s not playing dress-up. I don’t usually make clothes for myself actually, only for other people,”[/color] she stated. She wasn’t trying to sound defensive about it, but she probably sounded like she was. “I like working with my hands and creating things, and it’s pretty much the only thing I’m good at. Other than serving drinks,”[/color] she shrugged. “Like you with your,”[/color] a pause. “Football. I highly doubt you know the first thing about fashion and what’s in for winter,”[/color] she challenged. “While the only thing I can tell you about football is that you’re the halfback, and there is tackling involved,”[/color] she finished. Now here was the question: would this get her hit?[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY
notes: this one sucks

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[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

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So, this bartender hadn't been doing too badly in Anne's eyes thus far. That was the thing with the short-haired ginger. Most people didn't know it, or really assume it, but she started off with most people in her good books. It was just so incredibly easy to stir her wrath that most people assumed she started off with humanity in the bad books. But then. But then she said she was all empty threats and sarcasm, and she laughed at it. Sarcasm? Fine. Anne was sarcastic herself. Empty threats? Oh that one was a no-no. "Empty threats are a bad idea, lemme tell ya, there was this one guy, I think his name was Handel, he was a freshie tryin' out for the high school team. I was a sophomore, and he was a loser. Kept thinkin' that he could beat me up. Fucking Texas loser. If you're from the state that Bush lives in you better shut the fuck up." How many times she swore in the sentence really didn't register, she'd had a sailor's mouth for as long as she could really recall. "But no, he didn't listen. Now, he made empty threats, dude, kept sayin' he'll meet me after school for a fight and he never showed. Said he'll have his brothers and a switchblade. So one day I caught 'im. And you know what I did to him, hm?" Anne's brown eyes glowed with the recount. "I had a public execution, and he didn't last five minutes. One of his friends came to help and I did the same thing. Little bastard never looked my way again and that is what happens to empty threats, so be careful; thar's the morale if ya need it." That had been fun, beating him up and leaving him in an alley, with a small group of people at the mouth of the dead end, that kid had had no escape. Good times. Anne loved for bloodbaths and challenges alike. Whether it was easy or hard to beat someone, she didn't care, what matters was that she did it.

Anne fell silent again as she watched the bar, taking another long sip of her drink. It wasn't half bad, all said and done. She nodded, but laughed, about what the girl said next, about being allergic to alcohol. "Yeh, but he's not. I know that kid. Petey's not allergic to anythin', he's just got a pathetic tolerance for the stuff." Anne spun around again on her chair and watched the bartender as she made a drink. She looked pretty normal for a girl, but something was a bit askew as far as gender was concerned. For most people, well, they wouldn't notice it. But Anne had grown up on something of a gender line and she saw the more subtle differences. The act, that was all feminine enough. Frankly, this was a girl. But something was askew, all the same. Something was off. But what, exactly, was off?

Anne put to disregard the slight flirting tone in the bartenders voice, figuring it was just happening without actually meaning to...happen. Probably best she'd ignore it, just like she always told herself to do. So instead, she brought up fullback Petey. "I'm sure he'll love it, he'll probably think you either like him or hate him, one extreme or tha' other, once he notices." Anne took another sip of her drink, wondering if the poor guy was done puking already. How long did it take to puke? Anne had to smirk slightly when Blaire got all defensive. Poor kid, couldn't seem to stand up to her Anne liked that, in her own twisted way. She was in charge here. She might of been the patron but she was still in charge, in her own way. Ah well, at least Blaire seemed to have passion about something, even if it was...dress up. Pretty much regardless of what she was going to say about it, Anne was going to relate it back that way somehow. Still, she'd respect that sewing things was what Blaire felt good at. Respect it, but not in such a way she wouldn't poke it.

But then her tone turned to challenge. Challenge. Anne could pick up that tone from a thousand miles away, and suddenly Anne became a little more...dangerous-appearing? A change went about her face, one that took Blaire up on the challenge. She stood up, just to get the height advantage. No one picked at this. She'd not just implied Anne was only good at football, comparing it to how she was only good at serving drinks and dress-up, but used that tone. "I don't care what's in during winter, so long as I don't get frostbite, kid. Secondly, if you're only good at two things, I do not suggest you challenge someone who is good at physical things, because yes, football is tackling. But it's strategy, it's war. And I know a lot more to war. I can snap you if I want. I box. Heavyweight. UFC; that's mixed martial arts. A black belt. All with the men. So let me tell you what is in for winter, and it's called-."

"Anne, are you threatening people already?" Petey had chosen a good time to return. Well, in Blaire's interest, at least. "What the hell did she do to you, screw up your order? You want to get thrown out before a real fight or something? Sit, damn you!" He looked from Blaire to Anne in some semblance of alarm.

"You sit down and shut up before more puke comes out of that trap of yours! She challenged me to know what was in for winter and I was gonna tell her straight out bruises and broken bones were in!" Anne returned, shoving him onto the stool and giving him a playful punch. His return brought something else she could hit, so life was good. "I reckon you could model that real good, now couldncha, Petey?"

------
words| 998
tagged| Dee / Blaire
notes| Blaire ought to thank Petey sometime. XD

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy, 817, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
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Oh, Blaire had most definitely taken notice of how often the ginger had sworn in her sentence. It didn’t really bother her very much when people swore, but she did think it made people sound a little less intelligent. Throwing “fuck” in the middle of a sentence was unnecessary in Blaire’s eyes, though she really wasn’t about to tell this girl that. And that also didn’t mean Blaire refrained from swearing. She tended to curse more around certain people, but she had always been a rather adaptable person. She tended to change her attitude depending on the people she was around. She listened to the ginger’s story about the Texan freshman, kind of agreeing about the Bush comment. “Louisiana born and bred,”

[/color] she remarked before letting the ginger’s continue. As if that wasn’t obvious though, you could hear the Southern drawl in her voice. What most people didn’t realize about Blaire is that neither of her parents were from Louisiana. Or America for that matter. She was Hispanic, but couldn’t speak Spanish if her life depended on it. Ironically, she had always failed Spanish in school. “Hey, come on now,”[/color] she started. “I’m not nearly stupid enough to pick a fight and lose,”[/color] she pointed out. “I wouldn’t pick a fight, period, I’m a chicken shit when it comes to that stuff,”[/color] she admitted with a smile. She wasn’t exactly about to admit that she used to get the crap beaten out of her all through high school to a stranger. “But thanks for the tip,”[/color] she winked.

She was watching her hands as she made the guy, Petey, his drink. She had always hated them. Most of Blaire’s traits were naturally feminine, but there were a few very masculine traits that not even hormones seemed to get rid of. While her hands were more feminine and dainty than most guys, there was still a hint of masculinity to them. It always bothered her when people found out she was genetically male. It was like she was doing something wrong; it brought up a lot of self doubt that she bottled up. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be a boy though. “We win some, we lose some,”[/color] she remarked about Petey, finishing the drink and setting it aside for when he returned to his seat.

She scanned the crowd of rowdy football players and fans. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. There was a lot of shoving and punches being thrown, but it all seemed pretty playful for now. And so far Petey was the only one to have thrown up outside; though there was probably a lot of puke in the bathrooms. “He better love it, or no more drinks for him,”[/color] she stated, moving her dark green eyes back to the ginger woman. Blaire was barely noticing the little details about the red head any more, and was instead thinking about how drastically her mood was shifting tonight. She had gone from being extremely irritated to playful, to defensive then to challenging. That last one was a rare thing for her to feel, since she had never been a competitive person. Blaire lacked confidence that she could ever win any argument or debate that was brought up. So why did she challenge this girl who would quite obviously win?

“I’m not saying I’m good at two things, I’m saying those two things are what I’m best at,”[/color] she corrected, reminding herself to pick her words a little better next time. Not to mention picking her battles better, since she was so going to lose this one. Really though, there were plenty of other things Blaire was good at; like fooling people for one. There were very few people who knew Blaire was a male, which must count for something. She wasn’t bad at holding her liquor either. Her eyes trailed up to meet Anne’s when the other girl stood, feeling immediately intimidating but trying her best to hide it. She put on her best “I’m not afraid of you” face, unsure as to how convincing it actually was. “You know about war, I know about being passive,”[/color] she stated, though lacking the confidence in her statement. She was trying to think of some witty retort, but Petey’s return saved her. She could kiss him, but he just puked. Ew.

“Oh, black and blue are definitely his colors,”[/color] she laughed softly. This was Blaire’s way of saying “Okay Anne, you win”. She slid his drink over to him while Anne punched him, glad that it wasn’t her sitting beside the ginger. “Here, wash the taste out of your mouth,”[/color] she smiled to Petey before turning back to Anne. “I’m a hopeless cause when it comes to sports or anything athletic. I stopped trying to understand the strategy behind a game a long time ago,”[/color] she shrugged. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY
notes:oh she will haha

[/size][/blockquote][/center]

[ANNE MORRIGAN BAURER]

One of the great disappointments of a football game is that the cheerleaders never seem to get injured.

[/color][/size]

It was the first rule she had learned. Never pick a fight you couldn't win. Never lose a fight. Never be the sort of fighter that could lose. Always pick fights. Be the top of the pile and you'd be safe, because even if they hated you, you could bloody their nose, break their teeth, kick in their ribs and then it would be a double success for you. And here was one of many people that didn't pick fights. Anne didn't even give that a response. She didn't even try, this kid was a lost cause, perhaps. Well, good luck to her if she ever needed to get out of a tough spot, no one would be there to save her. Which would be quite an ironic thought in hindsight, now wouldn't it? Instead of speaking to that, while herb brown eyes said it all in their mild hostility, she took another swig of her drink, quite enjoying that at least. The hostility changed for a second into confusion, in this big brown eyes of her, when the bartender winked again. What. The. Hell. Anne was confused, very much so. To back away from any emotional hurt, she'd buried everything that didn't really related to anger, and well, a simple wink threw her off. It probably meant nothing. But it still did chuck her off center. Because down there, really down past her radar at the moment, Anne thought this girl. Or guy? Was kinda...cute.

Anne, in fact, descended into silence from then on until she stood up. She watched her teammates dancing, or lounging and bragging, either in duos, trios or solo. Big groups had almost totally dissipated, except from some drinking game in a corner. That didn't mean it was any less crazy, all you had to do was put a winning team in a place and it would get kinda crazy. Normally, she'd be in there. But then again, she normally did not strike up conversations with bartenders, then stand up and try to kill him. As soon as she stood, adrenaline had started up again. There was a look of some sort of cruelty in her eyes as she saw through the face easily. Oh yes. She was in charge here. Kiddo could be snapped, and she was scared of that fact. "Suresuresure, kiddie," Anne grinned at Blaire's words. "But remember what we was just sayin' about picking fights? How not to pick fights y'know you're gonna lose? Now what did you just do, hmmm?" Blaire would be dead if she tried, though of course, she'd just call a bouncer. Unless Anne bounced over the bar before then, but she'd get arrested. God damn public places weren't suitable for fistfights. Or accepting of them, she should say. They were more than suitable, they offered humiliation. People just got mad when people were smeared across bars. "And warriors win. The passive kids get trampled, yeh?"

It was a real pity Petey had to come back, right when the adrenaline kicked in. However, Blaire slid the drink over, acknowledging her victory. Ha. Who won now. She watched Petey take a drink as she herself did so, watching him realize there was no alcohol and laughing outright when his shoulders slumped. He looked to Blaire almost pleadingly, and Anne shoved him, carrying on the conversation with Blaire, almost as though she hadn't been about to kill her three seconds ago. "If my bonehead boys can get it, most human beings can." Really, the only time Anne did not refer to one of the boys was when she was speaking about their lack of intelligence, or speaking for all of them when the person had assured themselves Anne was an Anne. Which didn't always happen. Blaire had picked up on it pretty quickly for someone whodidn't watch sports, which made Anne wonder about Blaire's sex all the more. "Although, Petey has had the intelligence to realize their ain't alcohol in his drink after all!" She laughed as Petey heaved a dramatic sigh for the sake of the conversation he was listening in on.

-------
words| 767
tagged| Dee / Blaire

[BLAIRE RILEY VALDEZ]

annie boy,422, queen
she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
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The more Blaire thought about why she had challenged the ginger, the more she came up with a logical reason behind it. She wanted the ginger, Anne, to remember her. She wanted to be stuck in Anne’s mind, and maybe this would do just that. After all, the red head looked like she was just about ready to kill Blaire by the looks of it. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best explanation, but she liked it more than anything else she could come up with. Blaire didn’t just pick fights with people. She ran from fights. She was a coward when it came to fights. Blaire was so unlike this ginger girl. She wasn’t aggressive or violent or athletic. She was passive and moody and girly. But as scientists say, opposites attract. Though Blaire was a little hesitant about asking the red head for a date without being sure of her sexuality. Hell, Blaire wasn’t even sure of her own. She chose not to say anything more about picking fights, though she had been almost tempted to bring up that Anne didn’t know the motive behind Blaire’s challenge. She had second thoughts about that though, and perhaps it was best that she didn’t say anything more anyways. Though, Anne had a point. If the football players could get it, anyone else could. Blaire certainly did.

Instead Blaire kept the conversation going for the night. Giving Petey one more alcoholic drink after he had sobered down a bit. After that she had served more non-alcoholic drinks than the alternative between Anne, Petey, and a few more drunks that had asked her for something. She had decided to be smart and not bother challenging the ginger again that night, though by the end of it she had worked up enough nerve to ask the red head on a date. It was a much bolder action than the challenge if you asked Blaire. She hadn’t been on a date in a while, and the last time she had been in a relationship it had been a very clingy few weeks before he got a little too weirded out by Blaire’s gender issues. She supposed it was a good thing she hadn’t gotten too hopeful about Anne agreeing to the date, since she was turned down pretty bluntly. At least she had waited until the bar was closing to ask; she didn’t have to deal with any awkwardness this way. Instead she just went home and cuddled her puppy a little before changing for bed.

[/justify]

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outfit: CLICKY
notes:what a fantastic fade away now for the next thread >3

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