levi thomas westin

[levi]

LEVI THOMAS WESTIN

Name: Levi Westin, though most people drop the last name when they’re talking to me.
Nicknames: Just call me Levi, if I know you. You could call me Lee, but I better really like you because I happen to hate that name. Or, you know, Mr. Westin works good if you’re younger than me. Or older. Whichever.
Age: Twenty-One and legally able to drink... Not that it stopped me before, but at least I won’t end up in jail now, right?
Date of Birth: September Seventeenth.
Grade: I happen to be a junior.
Orientation: I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re wondering. I like the ladies... I like them a lot...
Nationality: As far as I know... I’m like every other American. A mix of seventeen hundred different things. I think English is the most prominent, considering my mother actually grew up in England. From my dad’s side I end up with... German, Irish, Welsh and some other little countries I don’t remember.
Home Town: Grew up in good 'ole Chicaga. And yes, I do call it Chicaga.
Degree:

[/b] Journalism is my thing.
- Minor: And I tend to ‘dabble’ a bit in creative writing. Not nearly as good, but I’m learning?[/ul]
Play by: Everyone says I look like Andrew Cooper, but frankly, I think I’m much better looking than him.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

--- DRIVEN
I've been described as 'driven' once or twice. Really, it's just a nice way of saying I'm as stubborn as a mule. I agree with them, and that doesn't happen often, so maybe you should call Guinness. Since I was little, I've learned to stick up for myself and work hard to get things the way I wanted. See, growing up, I was the youngest and there was a five year age gap separating me from Jacob and eight years between the twins and I. Jude doesn't count, because she was a girl. But with that gap separating me from the boys, I leaned how to stand my ground. Believe me, I wasn't the kid that would cry 'mommy' and make her solve it. Shoving matches and the battle of wills was always present in the Westin Household. I suppose that I've just carried that aspect of my personality over into my 'adult' life. Going into any art major tends to raise eyebrows and comments like 'You're going to end up staving and homeless.' But I'm pretty sure if anyone was stubborn and ambitious enough to go for it without giving up, it'd be me.

--- COCKY
Most of that stubborn and ambitious attitude feeds right into this point. I'm not afraid of or ashamed to say that I'm a cocky bastard. I really am. You know why? No? Well, let me enlighten you. It's because I can be. I am, or could be, the best at what I do. So, I'd prefer you call me Mister Justified Cocky Bastard, capiche? Should I start analyzing my childhood again? Well, when I actually got or achieved something, I was proud. Guess I haven't learned to handle pride well? So, I ended up being overly prideful, I suppose, and I'm not afraid to admit it. Hell, you think I care if someone thinks I'm cocky? Not in the slightest. At least I do my best to follow through on my cockiness by actually doing something to earn it, rather than just sit by and act like a complete dick.

--- CONCEITED
Hey, I'm human, just like everyone else. I got my faults and weak spots. Maybe more than some do... but we'll just ignore that and focus on all those good spots, yeah? Like, we'll ignore the fact that I'm conceited. It, once again, plays hand in hand with being cocky. Rather than just having the self-confidence and drive that usually defines cockiness, though, I tend to view a lot of my abilities better than they really are. Because of that, I don't really take criticism well. Pretty much, because I have a tendency to be conceited and cocky and all that, I don't want you telling me what the hell I'm doing wrong. Because, frankly, I don't think you're better than me--ever. Unless, maybe, you're telling me how to do fashion design. Because I really don't know or care about fashion design, so I don't know a think about it. But on anything else, just keep it to yourself. I don't want to hear it.

--- SHORT-TEMPERED
If it wasn't blatantly obvious already, I'm not the most controlled guy. Another fault, I guess, but I have a quick temper. Don't piss me off, alright? I really advise you against it. I may be a journalist, but I'm not a wimp and I'm not small, by any means. When I first started in with the anger thing... I'm not really sure. I mean, yeah, like I said about those shoving matches, but that wasn't really anger as much as it was some good-natured, brotherly violence. In my teens, I started to get a bit more... openly opinionated and cocky. From that, I started to get pissed at people that tried to force their thoughts or ideas on me. Don't think I'm afraid to back it up with my fist either, because I will. Most of the time, I use my words, though. I am a writer, after all, and I like words. Just, yeah... Don't piss me off, kid. It won't be a pretty sight for you.

--- POSSESSIVE
Just like I'm quick tempered, I'm likely to get a bit... miffed if you start putting your hands all over my stuff. Specifically my car or my girl. I don't care if you didn't know it was mine or if you thought you would have a better chance. Back off. It is mine and not yours, so don't touch, don't look, don't think. Just keep walking. I should probably deal with this little 'issue' of mine at some point, but it doesn't really bother me at all. I'm just fine defending my property and belongings. (...not that I would call a girlfriend property... depending on the relationship, if you know what I mean) But, for the sake of some other people, I've been told I should try and sort that out. But, to be fair, I'm not a complete psycho. I'm not gonna kill you because you picked up my book without asking. I just get uneasy and slightly... upset if you start eying some of my more prized items. And, although people say I should have it fixed, I just think others need to learn to keep their hands to themselves and not mess with other people's stuff.

--- JEALOUS
I guess it's only natural that I'd be considered the jealous type. First, when I end up seeing someone I thought liked me (girlfriend or not) starting to spend more time with someone else, it makes me wonder what the hell they think they're doing. The whole conceited part of my personality really doesn't let the thought enter my mind that it could've been me. But, after spending a bit dwelling on their faults, I do tend to think about what was wrong with me. What didn't I do good enough? What does he have that I don't? You know, the normal stuff. Jealousy is always there, though. Whenever it comes up, it's because I tend to get hit with a realization that I'm not the best... and I hate that. Losing, in any area, bothers me to no end. Maybe it's just the truth or something that bothers me (which would be bad, seeing as how being a journalist is all about reporting on the truth and all), but knowing that you aren't nearly as good as you had thought of yourself is... scary, in a sense. I can't even describe it right, but the best way I can put it is that you feel like everything that you are isn't real. That everything you thought about yourself could fall apart. You're vulnerable, for lack of a better word.

--- UNCOMMITED
I've gotten smarter over the years. I know that when I get attached to someone, I end up losing them, and ultimately, I end up feeling vulnerable and weak. And, quite obviously, I don't like feeling like that. So I don't have major relationships. I've have one night stands, flings, a couple dates here and there, but nothing else. I gave up on serious relationships after my girlfriend in high school. Even then, I was the one to break it off and leave. She knew a lot about me, I guess, but it's dangerous territory there. I don't want everyone knowing my secrets and I don't want you trying to get close to me. Sure, I have my friends, but I don't need someone to try and psychoanalyze me. If I wanted someone to be that close and to know everything about me, I'd get married or something. As for right now? I'll stick to the girl's that don't really care if you're there in the morning.

--- LOYAL
As confusing as this might be, I am loyal. I may not be the type for serious commitments, but it's in a different context, I suppose. I don't want someone there that'll expect me to share my thoughts and feelings and crap, but I'll stick up for my friends and defend them if I have too. Loyalty and commitment aren't the same. So... yeah, that's all I have to say about that. I'm a good man to have as a friend, bad man to have as a love interest. Deal with it.

--- ADAPTABLE
You know, I can mold well to many situations? It helps, seeing as how journalism isn't limited to one set place or event. I like the change, actually. I find it interesting and fun to see the change depending on where you're at, even if it's just a mile or two out of your comfort zone. Even when I moved from Chicago, it was a big change, but I think I did a fairly good job of blending in with the Philly kids. What can I say? I'm a people pleaser. (haha... in another life, maybe.) But, not only do I adjust well to cultural settings (when I get the chance) but just when I'm among my peers. I know I'm opinionated, I'd be stupid if I didn't, but I don't spend my time shoving my ideas down other's throats. I respect that they think differently, and I act accordingly. That's what I mean by adaptable.

--- PERSONABLE
Pretty much goes along with the above, just on a more... personal level, I suppose? I could be that guy to offer a shoulder, if you need it, as long as it doesn't mean you want me to share things, too. (Commitment, you know). But I can joke, be witty, be serious, whatever you need. I can be personable and outgoing. In fact, I am personable and outgoing pretty much... always. I have my enemies, of course. You don't opinions without having people that don't like them. But, generally, I try not to get others mad because then I tend to get mad and then it's just a big mess, you know? I try to be that social guy that could be everyone's friend but would rather stay with kids that he can have intelligent conversations with. Lyk, omg rly?
Yes. Yes, really.

--- DARING
This one is obvious, I think. I'm a man, kids, I mean really. Us men? We like to do stupid things. It may, or may not, be why we end up in hospital ER's a lot, but we like to do stupid things nonetheless. I especially like things that involve heights and jumping. The falling sensation that scares most people? I like that. It's amazing. It's... unreal? It's pretty freaking awesome, is what it is. When all else fails, driving fast is enough for me. You know, going ninety in a forty-five? Good times.

LIKES:
Coffee -- I know it sounds clichéd and all, but it seriously does make the world go around. Dunkin’ Donut’s does not lie when it says the world runs on Dunkin’s. Caffeine is an amazing substance.
Alcohol -- this is kind of a no brainer, don't you think? I mean, who doesn't bear a mild dislike of the actual flavor of liquor, but it gets the job done. And I'm actually allowed to drink it now. Hallejuah, praise the lord.
Rain -- what can I say? I like dancing in the rain and singing as loudly as I possibly can. Not that I've ever done that...
Dark Clouds -- ominous and rather... dark. Dur. But, I don't know, I've always been a fan of thunderstorms and all that. I think they're awesome.
Stupid People -- ha. Most people think I probably said this wrong. I didn't. I love talking to stupid people because it's absolutely and positively the most fun one can have. Really, you should try it some time.
Taking Risks -- yeah, I've been skydiving, bungee jumping, and I've been waiting to go base jumping for awhile. Hasn't happened yet, but it will. I like taking risks like that or, you know, trying chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla every now and again.
Country Music -- don't diss the cowboy boots, kids, because most men wearing them can kick your butt. Plus, I'm a sucker for the country twang.
Writing -- seeing as how it is my major, it makes sense that I'd like to write, don't you think?
Being in Crowds -- I like watching people. Being around people. Talking to people. People are good.
Being at the Center of Crowds -- People are especially good when they're all paying attention to me.
Reading -- you can't write unless you read. Mostly, I read the newspaper and stuff like that, but I'm not afraid of fiction books by any means.
Shakespeare -- classic's are one of my favorite's to read, though don't go spreading that around. I have an image to upkeep, you know. But, Shakespeare's a good read.
1984 -- honestly one of the best books I've ever read. I liked it so much that I've read it probably nineteen, twenty times. It's still sitting on my bedside table... meaning that box that's sitting next to the matress on the floor. Ahh, the life of a college bachleor.
Women -- haha, need you ask?
Sex -- just read above, okay? I'm a man. This is obvious.
Motorcycles -- I like to go fast. Motorcycles are a good way to do that. Haha... all that power right between your legs... I know what you're thinkin', ladies.
Adrenaline Rushes -- I think it's this inborn nature and desire that all men have. Yeah, I got it too. There's nothing like having your heart pounding in your ears and the feeling of "HELL YES" running through your mind.
Concerts -- maybe it goes with being around people, again, but I like to think it's having front row tickets and getting someone else's sweat on you. Good times.
Skyscrapers -- I grew up in the City and I loved looking at all the buildings. This one, two story things? They're crap.
Politics -- though most 'kids' now a days don't even know who our current president is, or who the first president was, for that matter, I like to keep up with current political happenings. That, and I like to voice my own opinions. I'm not afraid to hurt someone's feelings. I'll say whatever the hell I want to say about our government.

DISLIKES:
Losing -- my brain whole heartedly disagrees with me losing anything, quite frankly. I guess that makes me a sore-loser... or, you know, a guy that doesn't ever lose. I try not too.
Cold Weather -- most people say that, since I grew up in Chicago, I should be accustomed to cold weather. Well, I suppose, after living with it for so long I just started hating it.
Being Alone -- too quiet, I guess, though I suppose it's more than just silence. I could sit in a room with ten other people and not say a thing (Yeah, right) but I dislike being left to my own devices. Unless, of course, I'm writing. Then you can leave me the hell alone
Snow -- or slush. I hate them both. They're cold, wet, and not as fun to sing in as rain is. Believe me, I've tried.
Text Messaging -- lyk, omg. do u evn no how to spellz? lyk. lol. Seriously, the illiteracy of today's nation is astounding, and people don't even realize it. Learn how to spell 'you', people, and know the difference between 'their' and 'there'.
Drama Students -- not the women. I happen to like the women. Nothing's better than watching a bunch of actresses on stage. But the men? I mean, really? Can we all say 'gay'?
Fashion Design Students -- same as above. Really, men, grow a pair, why don't you.
Homosexuals -- I suppose it's quite obvious, but I'm not a fan of homosexuality. Get a room and get out of my line of sight. I'm not gonna kick the crap out of you because you're gay, but don't 'get it on' in front of me, okay?
Being Put Down -- it's like losing, only once your down, someone kicks you. Does anyone enjoy that feeling?
Romeo and Juliet -- I like Shakespeare, I really do, but I had to read this so much in high school and it's been turned into so many parodies and plays that I'm sick of it. Give me a Midsummer Night's Dream or something. Just not this.
Losing Something That’s mine -- not losing my car keys or something, although I dislike that, too, but more along the lines of someone taking my girlfriend or something. In this case, yes, I will beat the crap out of you. Keep your eyes and hands off.
Talking on the Phone -- never really a fan of it, I guess. seems impersonal. I'd rather be looking you in the eye. Plus, that way, I get to see your expressions.
Chick-Flicks -- "Oh, Fabio!" "Oh, Julie!" "Oh, I love you so much! I was so wrong about you!" "And I'm sorry, Julie! I never should've slept with your second cousin and her dog, I was wrong!"
No self respecting man should be forced to watch a chick-flick... ever.
Biographies -- I don't care enough about anyone to read everything about their life or what they ate for breakfast everyday. I'm not that interested.
The History Channel -- kind of goes along with the above. History is simply not my thing.
Smoking -- if I wanted to kill myself, I'd pull the trigger. (any alochol I consume is irrelevant...) I don't want your secondhand smoke either, alright? Thanks.
Looking Weak -- It's like... saying that I'm not stronger than everybody else, and I like to be the best. Having someone out do me is... horrible. It's worse than death. (Not really, but it sounds dramatic, no?)
Not Getting My Way -- I've been told I'm just a bit stubborn. I like to have things my way. For this reason, I like to eat Burger King. But, anyway, when things don't go the way I'd like, I tend to get upset or mad or something along those lines. Then I tend to work harder so I still get what I want. There's no escaping the fact that I will win in the end.
Math Classes -- I have never been, nor will I ever be, a math person. I mean, really, do letters have anything to do with math? Why are they necessary?
Imposing Authority Figures -- don't tell me what to do, and we'll be fine. It especially pisses me off when someone wants to pull rank on me. I don't mind homework from teachers and things like that, but when the government's gonna tell me I can't do this or that, I get pissed. Feel free to talk to me about it, I'll be happy to tell you all my opinions.

I know most people like to say this, but my history hasn't been anything spectacular. I didn't cure cancer when I was three or learn how to play seventeen instruments by ear, I have trouble just playing the piano. Again, as common as it is to say it, I grew up like most other kids did. But, yeah, you're expecting more than that, so I suppose I can explain all the boring little details. Thrilled yet? I know I am. Well, it would be accurate to say that the Westin home did not need another boy in it when I was born. There were my parents, Thomas and Mary Ellen, the eight yet old twins, Drake and Neal, seven year old Judith, and five year old Jacob. Then I came out crying and made it so my family had to find a bigger house. Turns out, living in an apartment is hard with six people, but nearly impossible with seven. So the Westin family packed up and found a nice place in downtown Chicago where my father worked.

Now, you're probably thinking that I felt bad or something because I just said my family didn't need another kid. I don't. I was just implying that seven people in a small apartment is not a pretty sight. So there we were. The Westin tribe, living in Chicago and doing our best to get by without killing each other. Believe me, we had those days. Most of the time, it would come down to Judy and I against the twins and Jacob. A bit unevenly matched, but I could hold my own and Judy seemed to think that mom was a good fall back if things didn't go her way. I was more of a man about it and took my beatings with my chin up. Or down, technically, gotta protect your face. But there were plenty of 'beatings' in my childhood, it was usually one of us boys pounding another. We survived, though. If anything, it made us stronger. Unbalanced, maybe, but stronger nonetheless.

I guess, just like my brother's and my relationship wasn't perfect, neither was my parents. Fighting was a word that commonly popped up in our home. Us kids got used to it though. When mom started dragging out wrongdoings from more than a month ago, we retreated to our rooms as not to get hit by debris. I always had my friends, though. Or, friend, to be specific. Roran Chandler. The best kid in the entire third grade because I could pick on him and he could actually hold his own against me. We had an understanding. Teasing and fighting was our love language, and we demonstrated that a lot. It seemed the teacher was constantly pulling us apart just to see that we were both smiling and laughing. It was actually rather fun.

We grew up being best friends since third grade, quite obviously, and we hardly did things without the other. Until, of course, I started with her. Aliyah was Roran's sister, and she was... well, for lack of a better word, she was hot. You know the whole 'boy meets girl. girl falls in love with boy. blah blah bull here'. Yeah, it wasn't like that with Aliyah and I. Haha, no. We avoided each other and ripped each other apart every chance we got. Apparently, rivalry runs in our families. But we were both stubborn and both to full of ourselves to actually admit that we liked each other. Which, of course, we finally did. Roran had to practically beat the sense into me, though, and I'm thankful he did.

We were a thing. Though, no one really knew about it at the time. It started in high school and just... progressed. It got serious. It got intense. I thought I was gonna sweep this girl off her feet and life with her forever. She even played a part in my pursuing journalism more seriously than I planned. Then, I got scared. I realized that I wasn't ready for a commitment because I didn't think it would work.

My parents split up. Us Westin kids always thought it would happen. When your parents are at each other's throats that often, it's bound to happen sometime, we just never really thought we'd see it. Guess we were wrong about that. It was my senior year of high school when they announced to us that they were getting the divorce. I didn't even tell Aliyah about it. Hell, my parents were splitting and hers were split before she was even born. It's pretty much fate and it's going to happen, so why kid yourself with all this talk of 'forever and always', right?

I know I was a complete dick about it, but I told her I was breaking up and that being away at college would just be too hard on the relationship. I didn't have the guts to just tell her I was scared that we'd end up like both our parents. Not sure if she even believed me or not, but she didn't say anything about it. We just... went our own ways. I went off to college and she stayed to finish high school. I figured that that would be the last of it. Well, imagine my surprised when I actually missed the girl. I didn't really think it would be that difficult to break up with someone. So, my frist year of college was my purging period. I did that by having as many flings and one night stands as possible. If I was with other girls, I'd forget about her, right?

Yeah. Note to self, that didn't work. I still have that vague hope that it will, though my... intensity has died down a bit. Then, after I thought I'd be just fine without her, here she is walkin' around campus like everything is just fine.

Well, you know what? I can't have that. Not in the slightest. Because if I don't do something, some other guy is gonna come up and try to put his hands all over my girl. And yes, she is my girl... she just doesn't know that yet. Oh, yeah, and I plan on becoming a journalist. But that's hardly as important as getting Aliyah back by my side.

Why Emerson?
I first heard about Emerson through my girlfriend in high school. She was planning on attending for photography. It was her that encouraged me to actually pursue journalism and I thought that there would be no better place to go than where my girl was going. And, seeing as how it's a school for the arts, it worked out perfectly. I didn't let a little thing like a break up ruin the fact that I'd already been accepted for my freshman year. And now, well into my Junior year, I know that Emerson was the best place for me.

One would think that, being a sniper, Lyle would be far more aware of his surroundings. Or, more specifically, he’d be more aware of the man sitting on the stool beside him. But, quite frankly, Lyle was not himself at the moment. He was far drunker then he’d been in quite awhile and he was a great deal less likely to notice anything. A robber could’ve walked right up behind him with a gun and demanded all of his money and Lyle might’ve still been oblivious. Everything was, in his mind, going too slow and too fast at the same time. It’d certainly made his mind fuzzy. Hell, it made his mind a big blob of nothing but a blurry mess of something. What was currently going on in here was possibly not even considered proper thinking. That was why the man next to him posed such a wonderful distraction. It was something that all his thoughts could focus and latch onto and force themselves to make some sort of coherent babble. Had he been sober, he would’ve thought something along the lines of “At least I hope it’s coherent.” But the fact was, plain and simple, that he was not sober. And that was quite obvious. It was also quite obvious that he was past the point of worrying about whether or not he was drunk. He was past the point of worrying about whether or not his thoughts or words made any sense. Basically, whatever that point was, he’d passed it... and he’d gone very far past it. Downright shattered it. With a moment of clarity, Lyle made a mental note to never let himself do this again. And, although he knew he wouldn’t necessarily remember making the note to himself, he knew that he’d have some sort of recollection when he woke up with the feeling that someone had stuck an axe through his head and gouged out his eyes with a straw. At that point, he’d probably remember that last night was not the best way to spend one’s evening.

The Mighty Ducks would’ve been a much better way, had he actually been someone that was into sports. But, quite honestly, he’d never been a sports fan. Probably never would be. Too many men scratching themselves and spitting in the grass. Now that any of it seemed out of place to Lyle, but he certainly didn’t find any enjoyment in watching it. Let a man do what he has to do in private and let that be that. There was no need for them to scratch an itch in front of millions of viewers, was there? Unless, of course, it was to draw attention to that area. Lyle imagined that it probably was, being that their egos were undoubtedly as big as Lyle’s.

At least I’m good at what I do.

How he managed another coherent thought after his last mental note, he wasn’t sure. But there it was. The truth that he simply couldn’t--and didn’t want--to ignore. Be him drunk, sober, sleeping, or dead. The man would be cocky and arrogant and it didn’t really matter what you did to him. The one thing that did not like to stay quite so consistently, however, was his clarity. And, as quickly as it had come, it went fleeing back into his mind somewhere, following by all logical thought. Common sense would be more like it. Hearing his name called him out of his ‘meditative’ state and he turned to look at the newly acquired drinking partner. “Uh, sure?” Had he actually understood the question, the answer may have been different, but Jack seemed to be waiting for an answer and drunken Lyle hated to disappoint. Plus, not answering a question was quite rude. Ironically, drunken Lyle was apparently much more hospitable and kind than the normal man that was hidden behind the bottle, so to speak. Busying himself with his beer bottle, Lyle found himself unable to process the majority of the man’s words. At least, he found it hard to process them right away. He was talking fast and Lyle’s brain was moving slow. Lack of proper brain cells did that to a man. But, after thinking it over for a moment longer than most, Lyle smirked a bit and nodded, finding his drink incredibly inviting at the moment. “Sounds like a plan to me.” Though his mind may have not wandered to the same place as Jack’s, he was certainly thinking that a good, hot shower and lots of sleep would be good the following day.

Or, perhaps his mind did wander to the same place as Jack’s had.

Work. Work made something in Lyle’s head click and he immediately found himself looking around in the bar in survey. He’d done it when he first walked in; when he wasn’t drunk, but since sitting his butt on the bar stool, he’d focused only on the drink in front of him. He assessed for threats, he counted heads, he looked for weapons. He switched into work mode and couldn’t help but follow through with his standard procedure. Perhaps not as obvious as some would make it, but he quickly found out how many people were in the bar and knew what most of them were drinking. The information probably wouldn’t last for long, but it was there for now and Lyle was glad that he hadn’t completely been lost to the alcohol at the moment. It was Jack that made him think about work. Work. He’d come here to avoid it and here this man was questioning him all about what he did and if he’d killed people. Death wasn’t a typical topic for small talk. Though, Lyle never had been a fan of small talk. Having such a topic came up was enough to tempt Lyle into the conversation. Killing and death where hardly light subjects. He never liked light subjects.

“Wouldn’ be a good sniper if I never hit my mark, eh, mate?”

He probably wouldn’t have called Jack ‘mate’ again, but at the moment he was having trouble remembering his name. He may have been able to tell you what the woman in the corner booth was drinking, but when it came to the information he’d just been told not ten minutes prior, he was completely lost. Lyle was fully prepared to blame the alcohol, and he was more than likely justified in his accusation.

For some reason, Lyle’s brain wasn’t anywhere near as interested in cars as it was in his job. Then again, when it came right down to it, if you were going to compare a sniper rifle to a car and which was better to have in a fight, Lyle would screw the car and choose the gun. But then again, Jack was mentioning something about a car wreck and Lyle was curious. Curious enough to actually ask the man a question this time, rather than simply sitting there and answering. “Wait, who wrecked their car?” No doubt he sounded like a lunatic. A deranged Australian crazy that knew how to use a sniper rifle. Probably not the best situation. Especially not if you listened to what the Europeans said about Australian’s. Filthy criminals. For half a second, Lyle thought that what Jack had actually meant. That he or someone else had crashed his car. ESPman strikes again. Casting a glance in Jack’s direction, Lyle tilted his head and frowned a bit. The man wasn’t necessarily hard to read, and had Lyle been in a better condition, he probably could’ve weeded lies from truth just by watching the man. Truth be told, right now it just looked like any other face in a crowd. One that seemed just as interested in Lyle as he was in Jack. Momentarily, Lyle wondered if it was actually him that attracted Jack to him. If it was, he wondered what made his normal appearance so different than when he was sober. Having strangers approach him was a rare experience. Having them strike up a conversation and actually keep it going wasn’t even something Lyle had experienced. None of that matter to Lyle at the moment, though. No, he was much more concerned about Jack foreseeing him crash his Aston. The mental visual was enough to make him want to walk home tonight. He considered doing it anyway, since he didn’t happen to have himself a designated driver on hand for whenever he needed on.

Perhaps, if he hired a hooker, he could make her do it. Rather than actually sleep with her, she could watch him get drunk and then drive him home and do nothing but get paid and not drink. Wasn’t hard at all. He was sure he would appreciate this entire scene... later, when he was sober and thinking straight.

“Your turn to ask me questions. I enjoy this game.”

Games weren’t something Lyle was familiar with. Games, as a kid, consisted of going outside and looking under leaves and logs for little roly ploy’s and centipedes. Drinking games, perhaps, but nothing else. Ever. Lyle had never really... played a game. Even as he tried to think back, he couldn’t remember a single time he’d played a game as a kid. It was always him alone or him doing something for school or him doing something for this or that and the other. Thinking about his life actually gave him a depressed feeling. Though, not necessarily because he experienced, but because looking back over it, it seemed rather... pitiful and bland. Taking a drink from his bottle, he set it down and turned to look at the man full on. If he was going to play a game, he was going to play it right. And, right now, it was his turn to talk and his turn to be in charge. “You married?” Lyle, although good at reading people and keeping his cool, he was not good at picking up the signs of a homosexual man. Nor was he properly versed in the art of flirting. Keeping questions about marriage off limits and never mentioning the boss when the boss is around type of thing. But, he’d asked now, and with amazing clarity when he did.

He really did need to lay off the liquor and do his best to think of real questions.

End Word Count: 1,727

Hi, I'm Squiddy McSquidBottom and I'm incredibly old. I'm, quite obviously, the most perverted squid in the sea. This is my first on this site application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from another member.

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[trent]

It's a real shame that I didn't even bother reading this, because you seem like a great writer. Never write an app in first person with out checking first, or else every one would seem like a goddamn novelist. I should deny it for this, but like I said, you seem like a talented writer. I'll put it in pending and just hope for your sake that you squeeze out something of this caliber in the correct perspective.