Cliff let out a raucous laugh, clapping his hands together. He took another puff off of the cigarette when it came back around. The music rang loud in his ears, and it was glorious.
Wanna Do A Witchcraft based One On One?
Sheena opened one eye, looking over to where she heard loud laughter. She shrugged slightly, closing her eyes again and tilting her head back again, blowing smoke to the ceiling.
Cliff grinned, the dark half-moons under his eyes on full display. He stood, stretching his hands above his head.
Sheena leaned back against the wall more, looking as if she was half asleep, with slow, large movements.
(what are the rules on swearing? because Cliff has a sailor’s mouth and i’m gonna have to make some adjustments if we can’t cuss lmao)
((swear all you want, my dude))
(thank god.)
“I’ll be right back.” Cliff stood up, dusting off his pants and taking back the cigarette. He had brought the pack, after all, so it was only fair. As Cliff placed what was left of the cigarette in his lips, he walked over to Sheena.
“You look fucken’ beat as a stubborn horse.” His voice was a steady Southern drawl, although it was difficult to place specifically where it was from.
"Ain't we all?" Sheena said, opening one eye. Her voice had a steady New York accent, but picking out which area would be hard. She took another long drag, blowing out the smoke. "You seem like ya had six cups of coffee."
“Guess you’re right.” Cliff shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nose. “And I might’ve. This mornin’s a blur.”
Sheena nodded. "Gloomy mornings always are."
“What mornin’ here isn’t?” Cliff let out a laugh, exhaling cigarette smoke through his nose. “What’s yer name?”
"Sheena. Sheena Ramone. And you?" She asked, opening her eyes.
“Cliff Artrip.” Cliff dropped his cigarette butt, grinding it into the floor with the heel of his shoe. “Pleased to meet you.” His eyes had a kind of humor to them, but the rest of his heavily freckled face had a sense of boiling anger to it.
Sheena gave him a nod, putting out her own cigarette butt against the worn inner elbow of her leather jacket. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
“Not much. I seen you a few times before. This time, though, you looked especially lonely, so I figured I’d drop by.” Cliff’s tone was teasing, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Other’n that? Nothin’, really.”
Sheena smiled slightly. "Thank ya, then." She said, shoving her hands in her pockets.
(i should’ve asked earlier, but how is this society set up? Jobs-wise and all?)
((They sorta just get their entire life planned out for them, and they get no say unless they want to risk being "taken in"-and no one know what that entails))
(ah, alright! i assume jobs and all of that are assigned as well?)
((yep! i'd say just pick a job Cliff would hate and have that be what's laid out for him))
(sure!)
“Fun li’l icebreaker for ya.. what’s your plan like?” Cliff fought to be heard over the music, but he managed. “I know it’s not the best question ta ask, but I’m curious. Sue me.” He shrugged, head tilted to one side.
"They want me to be stuck in a desk job, and be fuckin' souless." She said, shaking her head. "Yours?"
“You lucky duck.” Cliff laughed, leaning his head back. “Fuckin’ childcare. Trainin’ to be stuck with the anklebiters all goddamn day. Now that makes about as much sense as tits on a bull.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
Sheena hissed in sympathy. "Damn…" She mumbled. "But at least you'll be doing stuff."
Cliff gave her a toothy grin. “You’ll be doin’ somethin’ too, Sheena. Pushin’ pencils ‘n filling out paperwork, allat.. fun stuff.” He placed his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, don't remind me!" She said, rolling her eyes.
Cliff grinned a bit. “Fine, fine. Let’s see.. I don’t have too many conversation starters. How long’ve you been comin’ down here?” He beckoned to the smokey room.
"Since I found it when I was thirteen." She said, smiling softly. "You?"
“Fourteen. Jus’ a couple years ago. Tell you what, though— people down here make a hell of a community. Like a family that don’t push your whole ‘life plan’ into ya every wakin’ moment.” Cliff pulled out a ratty cigarette box and a small box of matches. He struck up a matchstick, holding it up to the cigarette pressed to his lips.
“I’m assumin’ you don’t mind if I do this?” He shook out the flame of his match, breathing out a small puff of smoke. “Let me know if ‘m wrong.”