• • • Every Day

[Quentin Ambrose Weir]

Quentin was dick, plain and simple. He used women and then walked away once he was done without a single care as to how they feel about it. But then, he was surprisingly good at picking the women he chose to go home with at the end of a shift. They weren't looking for anything serious and he sure as hell wasn't either. That much was blatantly obvious. He was a massive flirt who didn't give a damn what people thought about it. And he had rules for the women he went home with; he was up and gone before morning and always to theirs, never his. That would bring up too many questions with the girlfriend he had at home and well, he couldn't have that. Of course, there would probably be a hell of a lot more questions at work if the people he worked with even knew he had a girlfriend. It was a fact Quentin had managed to keep well hidden.

He wanted to keep his home life separated from his work life for as long as utterly possible. He never said he liked how his life was now. He didn't. He didn't want to have a girlfriend at home, waiting up for him if she wasn't at work herself. He didn't want to have to share a space with another human being for as long as he had. But one thing had lead to another. And he often thought if he hadn't gotten her pregnant when they were teenagers, things would have been different. It was odd how some people didn't care if they'd gotten someone knocked up, they just said goodbye and was never seen or heard from again. Quentin at least, hadn't been that guy and back then, sure he'd loved his girlfriend but things changed and after she'd lost the baby, he'd thought, well shame, but maybe he'd been able to go back to a normal life. Except he hadn't been able to. And it felt to Quentin like he was being smothered.

Then he'd hoped that moving to LA for school would give him the chances he needed to get away from her and start a new life. It had been where he'd always wanted to be, where starting a music career was just the tiniest bit easier because it was so central to the music industry. Or at least, part of it. And he probably would have been able to stick around if that stupid girl hadn't threatened to out him, so to speak. The move to New York had been more to preserve his own hide than for anything else. And thank god it was New York, another industry-centric city. Like LA, there was everything in the big apple. And Quentin loved that; not to mention there were loads of lovely young women looking for a thrill for a single night and he was more than willing to help them with that request. Working the bar at a nightclub was the perfect gig for him until he was on stages all over the world. Baby steps though, baby steps. He smiled the crooked smile he knew made the women swoon at a particularly sweet looking blonde across the bar from him and leaned a little closer to get her drink order, inhaling the toxic cloud of raspberry scented perfume she'd drowned herself in before heading out that night.

Tag || @open
Words || 569
Clothes || Flirty Barkeep
Music || Waitin' On A Plane --Maddie & Tae
Notes || <3!

[ophelia rosemary olson]

For Ophelia, The Marquee was a sort of escape. In a way it was a way of rebelling against who she would soon be. It was a lifelong dream to be a doctor, and she was ambitious and driven as hell to make it happen, but throughout her life there had been a tiny streak to her personality that snuck out, lied and bent the rules her father put in place. It was all done with the aid of her uncle who thought his brother was far too strict on his only child. Ophelia hadn’t told her uncle or her dad how she paid her bills in New York City, and they both seemed to be under the belief that she waited on tables or worked in a store like so many other students. She didn’t think they’d ever guess she spent the early hours of the morning pouring drinks behind a bar, coming home with the music still ringing in her ears. Her time at The Marquee wouldn’t last for much longer anyway. She was a college senior and was already filling in the paperwork to be an intern at one of the local hospitals. She’d applied for several, hoping for a shot. Her grades were perfect and she had already volunteered as much as she could in the hopes that she’d stand out more when it came to selecting the next generation of wannabe doctors ready to take that step.

Until then though, she would be pouring shots and mixing cocktails for those who wanted to be staggering home and puking in the gutter. It was never something Ophelia did herself; she wasn’t much of a drinker or a partyer. On her nights off she was hunched over her textbooks and her laptop, working on an assignment, or reading an old book she found in a thrift store. She liked old things and frequently haunted antique markets and places where she might find something time had forgotten about. She was probably out of place working at a nightclub, but Ophelia actually enjoyed it for the most part. She didn’t enjoy the drunken men coming on too strong, or going home with her own clothes smelling like a liquor store, but the rest was fun.

And then of course there was Quentin. She always ended up working the same side of the bar as him, no matter how hard she tried to pair herself with Killian or Luca. Always she found herself squeezing by his arrogant ass while he flirted with some drunken airhead who saw some kind of charm in him. Ophelia never could. She tried to turn girls away from him, even if she had to whisper them lies to make them grab their shoes and run for the nearest cab alone. She saw it as saving them, because nothing good could come from a night with Quentin Weir. She was coming back from collecting in the glasses from the tables when she saw him leaning closer to the blonde across the bar. Unable to help herself, Ophelia deliberately bumped into him and spilt a few dregs of drink onto the back of his shirt. “Oops!” She said half-heartedly, popping the dirty glasses on the back and turning around to him with a look of fake apology “Didn’t see you there.”

• • •

TAGGED! Quentin Ambrose Weir
WORDS! 558!
OUTFIT! Determined Dollface!
LYRICS! B-Team - - Marianas Trench
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Quentin Ambrose Weir]

New York had never been in Quentin's plans. Los Angeles had been his dreams and he'd been there for a while going to school and fooling around with every leggy blonde, brunette and redhead who looked his way. He was a bit of a slut, he could admit it but he hadn't always been that way and didn't think he'd be that way forever; only time would tell though. He'd only turned to sleeping around because he had felt trapped and going to classes and being at work just weren't cutting it. He had needed to be free. He'd been a kid still for Christ's sake and yeah, he'd been stupid but happy when he'd found out Veronica was pregnant. He had always imagined children. And then when she miscarried, he'd wanted to stick by her side to be there for her but he'd fallen out of love with her in that time and started to feel like she was suffocating him. He couldn't breathe whenever she was around, whenever he'd been home. In fact, he felt like the walls were closing in around him whenever she was even in the same room as him, she hadn't even needed to speak. Running off to LA had been his dream and his idea to give them a fresh start. He had hoped that by moving away, they'd move apart. Instead, Veronica had gotten even more clingy than she'd already been and Quentin really started to feel like he couldn't breathe.

Veronica couldn't have been so stupid to have been oblivious to Quentin's nightly activities. He would stay out at all hours, sometimes not even go home for a couple days at a time. And he would have stayed in Los Angeles, enjoying the weather, the women and the music scene. Stupid, hateful woman just had to get in his way. The worst part of it all, he couldn't even remember her name! At least New York was just as busy with the music scene and it had been easy enough to pick up a gig at a nightclub. He could and happily did pick up his slutty ways almost immediately after touching down in the big apple. But that wasn't all he did, though sleeping his way through New York did seem like it was the most important thing to him. Quentin still got out there for the open mic nights on those nights he wasn't behind the bar, spinning bottles. Music was where his heart was, even if his father didn't understand what was so special about a guitar and the ability to carry a tune. His mother, sister and grandfather were proud of his talents though none of them would be at all pleased if they ever showed up in New York and saw what their golden boy really did. He'd been lucky back in Los Angeles in that they'd called ahead when the women of his family decided to drive up for a ten day visit. Those ten nights had been the most he'd spent at home with Veronica in a row since they'd moved to LA in the first place!

New York was different and thank god for working nights. He spent a scattered number of nights at the apartment he shared with Veronica but he, especially more recently, chose to sleep on the couch, claiming she looked so peaceful that he hadn't wanted to disturb her. She told him a dozen times that he wouldn't have but he said all the right things and surprised her with little gifts and she forgave him for sleeping on the couch and for staying out all night. Quentin wasn't sure if she knew what he was up to and just chose to ignore it all or if she really was that oblivious to his actions. He wasn't good at hiding it unless they were at the apartment. Veronica never went to the bar and no one at the club knew she even existed and Quentin wanted to keep it that way. It was a very unstable house of cards that would fall eventually but for now, he was fine with the juggling act. The shock that crossed his face was genuine but it wasn't at all directed at the blonde across the bar who'd said just the right words that would have had him taking her back to her place. No, the shock was from the cold drink hitting his back. It wasn't enough to soak his entire back but it was enough that he damn well felt it. He spun and saw Ophelia with a fake smile on her lips. "Now, now Olson, don't be so hard on yourself. We can't all have twenty/twenty vision." He said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. The Marquee was a great place, for the most part.

Tag || ophelia rosemary olson
Words || 808
Clothes || Flirty Barkeep
Music || Waitin' On A Plane --Maddie & Tae
Notes || <3!

[ophelia rosemary olson]

Ophelia knew some people saw her as a stuck up student. That wasn’t her at all, but she also wasn’t the type to squeeze into a second skin dress and a pair of heels that threatened to break ankles. She didn’t see the appeal of getting so drunk everything became twin sets, and the sun was rising while people threw up in the gutters of one of the greatest cities in the world. How was that supposed to be enjoyable? Sure, dancing, hanging out with friends and maybe the flirting was a nice, confidence boosting part of the night, but the aftermath? The hangover, the cringe worthy memories, plus whatever bruises or injuries that were obtained throughout the course of the night…they could not possibly amount to a good time. Ophelia couldn’t even understand why people came away to college purely for that kind of experience. For herself it was about her future. She wanted to make a life for herself that otherwise she definitely wouldn’t be able to have. It was a freedom, both financially and physically. She still had a lot of hard work to go through, but Ophelia wasn’t shy of hard work. She lived for it. She would much rather fall into her bed in the early hours, exhausted from spending so much time in a library or working on a project than she would anything else. She felt a sense of pride and achievement when something was successfully done. That was one of her ideas of fun, but it didn’t make her a snob.

She could enjoy a night out, enjoy good company, she just didn’t need to start slurring her words to do it. She also didn’t want to be a notch in someone’s bedpost. Ophelia refused to be a trophy for some guy to brag about with his friends. It wasn’t cool, and she didn’t see why so many college guys were high-fiving each other over the girl one of them took home last night. She hadn’t met any girls who acted like that. It was just weird, and she saw it more and more since working at The Marquee. Ophelia got to watch it all unfold like she was sitting at home watching a nature documentary about predator and prey. She saw the groups of men picking out their target, sending the one swimming in way too much cologne over only after her friends had dispersed and plenty of shots had been downed. Then it was just painful to see the drunken flirting, the bad pick up lines, and Ophelia felt like she died a little inside when one of these girls left with a guy so slimy they just made her skin crawl whenever they came to the bar. Her faith was only restored when they were shot down, laughed at, and sent back to their friends with their tails between their legs like a scolded pup.

Out of all of them though, none got under her skin like Quentin did. She didn’t even know why she let him get to hr as much as he did, but he did. Something about him made her blood bubble, and she just wanted to push him and hit at him until that arrogant smirk was gone from his face. Maybe it was because they worked together, so she knew she’d see him again, and again. He just had a way of getting to her though, and Ophelia had a feeling that he knew it, because right now she could feel herself getting hotter, longing to lash out at him, but resisting. “No one who comes in here must if they keep flirting with you.” She responded drily, smiling to the customer as she bent over the bar to hear their order, up righting herself and crouching a second later to grab the bottles of beer from the refrigerator behind her knees.

• • •

TAGGED! Quentin Ambrose Weir
WORDS! 650!
OUTFIT! Determined Dollface!
LYRICS! B-Team - - Marianas Trench
NOTES! <3 <3 <3