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January 2nd, 2008

Tags: ben, joseph, solo Subject: Flight Of The Phoenix Time: 04:53 pm Current Mood: working

[[Non Journal Entry]] Nine lives given, five lives gone, and four left to hang in the balance. You'd think it would be enough to cause a man to tread softly and carefully, but living life waiting for disaster was no way to live; not when there was a world full of chance and opportunity waiting for you just outside of your door. Even if that chance and opportunity did nothing but screw you over at every turn. Joseph slid up the fire escape quickly and agilely, ducking beneath a broken out window before slipping into the dark depths of the high rise building. He pressed his back against the wall and held his weight on the balls of his feet, crouched low and masking his presence in the darkness. He drew his guns, in spite of the fact that they wouldn't do much good against his present foes. Joseph supposed it was their presence that reassured him more than anything else, they were his metal and the things that had seen him through God only knew how many battles that should have seen him dead. The floorboards creaked, that much he learned and quickly. He paused and held his breath, waited for the guards to look away. And when they did, he moved again, slipping from room to room in the vain hope that he might stumble across Ben in one or other of them. ( Fine fucking mess you've gotten yourself into this time )

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December 31st, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Visiting Friends Time: 09:27 pm Current Mood: pleased

( Note and package left on Rhiannon's doorstep )

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December 2nd, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Wash Over Me Time: 02:42 am Current Mood: weird

[[Non Journal Entry]] In order to live you first had to learn what dying felt like. How death crept in, digging itself deep into bone, hollowing out your heart and soul - dragging the warmth from both - leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. Joseph couldn’t count how many times he’d come close, had felt the cold embrace and tasted stale air; it wasn’t something he could forget, no matter how many times he’d tasted the fresh air of a living day. Now he was dealing with vampires, creatures’ long time dead and soulless. He doubted any of them even so much as shed a tear for the people fallen at their hands. They were at the heart of Vegas’ corruption, feeding off people’s greed and exploiting their blind desires. Ben had fallen into their hands; entangled in the webs and hung by the length of rope he’d given them the day he had agreed to push their drugs. Joseph, he could appreciate the smarts of vampires. He really could. They weren’t rampaging on the streets, leaving dead bodies in their wake. No. That would garner too much attention. They worked their way into society through its recreation and self destructive ends, relying on humanity to do their dirty work for them. It was almost disturbing how smart the things of nightmares could be. Evolution, it was inevitable and the only smart thing to do if they wished to live past their predetermined expiry date. Not that it helped him much; he was human and lacking in many areas that they had advantages in. Far from stupid, Joseph would not risk both head and neck in a fruitless endeavour. Not that Ben had long left, not if what he felt in his gut was anything to go on. Rushing wouldn’t solve anything and more than likely ensure Ben’s untimely death at adolescence, and that wasn’t an option. He toyed with a pistol, contemplating the bullets with a thoughtful expression. They’d slow them down, sure, but they wouldn’t kill them. These were things that could not be killed with firepower, had to be brute strength. He’d killed men with his bare hands, gorged out eyes, stripped away flesh and bloodied skin, but he’d never… vampires were not his strength, humanity was. Joseph pushed away from the table and paced his apartment, body bare from the waist up and skin rippling with every frustrated breath he expelled from a chest that tightened, scar tissue bunching up along his neck and bringing about a headache. He clasped the back of his neck and tipped his head back, exhaling and opening his eyes, regarding the ceiling like it held all the answers that he needed. He glanced at his phone, recalling Rhiannon’s message and he was beginning to count the seconds and minutes. Joseph supposed he needed the break, a chance to be Joseph and not a man sent on a mission after a wayward son that should have learned his lesson after the first three times; how many more times would he have to save the kid from himself? Vices, they were the only things keeping Joseph sane and from climbing the walls. One cigarette later and Joseph was able to push thoughts to one side, able to be in the moment. He would need to ready himself for the alternative, to the idea that when he got to Ben it would be too late and then he’d have to break the news to Becky. God, he hated delivering bad news. But until he knew for certain he would continue to work under the assumption that Ben was alive, hurting, but alive. It was the only way he’d be able to do what needed to be done. He stubbed out a cigarette and snatched up the gun, cocking his head to one side as he reloaded the clip and he felt the weight of the gun in his hand. No gun ever felt the same and Joseph had spent his life familiarising himself with each and every one, learning it until he had an intimate knowledge of how it worked. Scarily his guns often became an extension of himself, something he used and wielded like he’d been born to do just that. Joseph trailed through his apartment to his bathroom, resting the gun on the sink before he reached in and switched the shower on. The water beat the ground for a couple minutes before Joseph stepped beneath it, just leaning into it and opening his mouth to taste the clean water; it felt like ruin and redemption at the same time. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

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November 25th, 2007

Tags: connor, interaction, joseph Subject: Can You Live With It? Time: 11:18 pm Current Mood: calm

Ever since his run in with that vampire in that alley, Joseph had kept himself to himself. It made sense. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, and they had probably noticed they were one vampire short. Hopefully they would just assume the guard got peckish one night and ran into trouble he couldn't handle; but the more time Joseph spent sitting around, the less chance he had of getting Ben back in one piece. He just knew that rushing something like this would lead to nothing, and he didn't think he could tell Becky that Ben was dead. It was bad enough he had spent a lot of time in New York delivering bad news and holding wailing women as they mourned their loss of family, sometimes children. Nobody else had wanted to do it, nobody else had the balls for it. Joseph was nursing a headache with a glass of whiskey, ice long ago melted and cigarette left burning from between the callused fingers that clasped it. He reached up and scrubbed at the dark strands of his hair, attempting to ease the tension in the back of his neck by pressing the width of his palm against his skin and exerting enough strength and pressure to circle the tangled knots, forcing them outwards until the tips of his fingers could catch them. "Rough day?" the barmaid asked, looking over at Joseph with a soft sympathetic smile that she wouldn't have given anyone else, but this was Joseph and she'd always thought he was a nice guy, and he was cute; it helped. Joseph looked up and offered her a smile. "Could say that." She smiled back and gestured. "You want another?" "Please," Joseph affirmed with a nod of his head. Las Vegas was not Connor's favorite place. Too many reminders of Los Angeles, he supposed; the noise, the traffic, the way the buildings seemed to close in on you if you stood still for too long. The presence of Wolfram and Hart didn't help, either. He'd stood out on the sidewalk near the branch in the city, staring up at the skyscraper until both physical and emotional vertigo drove him elsewhere. So no, not his favorite place at all. But he'd been unable to reach Rhiannon on her cell phone, and the feeling it gave him was like finding a spider crawling on the back of his neck. Maybe it was just paranoia, but when paranoia was a close enough companion, it paid off to listen to it sometimes. The Slayer had told him that she wasn't going anywhere, wasn't going to disappear, and he needed to believe that for the sake of his own well-being. The Destroyer wandered down the sidewalk, pondered swinging by her place unannounced. If she was there, if she was annoyed at him for worrying when there was nothing to worry about, then so much the better. He'd take her annoyance over her unexplained absence. The cast he'd earned at Fang Noir had come off of his arm without ceremony, and the limb felt no worse for wear as he dug both hands into his pockets, coming up with a few bills and some change. He'd stop off and have one beer, then decide what to do. He'd been supposed to go meet Justine later anyway, so it wasn't like he had no other reason to be loitering here for the afternoon. ( Invisible Spider ) ( Crazy Ex-Girlfriends )

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November 12th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Reveal Yourself To Me Time: 09:21 pm Current Mood: busy

[[Non Journal Entry]] All good things come to those who wait, and Joseph believed that waiting was the only sensible choice, especially when familiarising himself with unknown territory and dark corners around which anything could hide. He followed the directions to the letter and lingered in shadow, eyes watching the windows above and cigarette burning away the seconds and minutes that eventually turned into hours. It was only when he ducked out of sight and flattened his shoulders to the wall behind him that he was able to get a better look at the guy posted at the door, flickering neon light catching on what seemed to be a furrowed brow and there was something about those canines that just didn’t look right. “Huh,” Joseph muttered, arching an eyebrow. Joseph looked around himself and spotted a plank of wood boarding up a nearby window and a couple short steps brought him over to it. He ripped it free then crouched, pulling a knife free from his belt and set to work at carving at a rough shape out of it, leaving the tip narrow and sharp enough to draw blood to the surface of his thumb. There was only one way to be sure what they were. Joseph hissed in a breath as he slit open his palm and he stepped out of shadow, squeezing his fist so blood leaked from within his palm and caught on the wind. He was hoping that the guy at the door would react to the smell of blood the same way a shark did, and then he’d be able to tell for certain if what he suspected was true. And if he was then he would definitely need more help than his guns and bullets could provide. Thankfully, Joseph’s ploy worked and it wasn’t long until he felt the guy from earlier shadowing his every step, it felt almost like death was running through his veins and unless it was his imagination but the temperature had definitely dropped a couple degrees. What Joseph had over the guard was in spite of the time he’d spent away from Vegas was that he still knew it better than most, so he was able to lead him right into a dark alley and step up and out of the way until it appeared like he had vanished into thin air. Then he waited, and only after the guy had passed him did he move, wounding him with a bullet to the shoulder and pistol-whipping him a second later. Joseph might not have the same strength, but what he did have was experience and he had some of the dirtiest tricks known to man up his sleeve. One more bullet, this time to a knee, and then a knife through the shoulder, effectively pinning the creature to the ground as it writhed and lashed out at him, nails sharp. Joseph hissed in a breath as he was caught in the jaw by a flailing punch but he spun another knife in his hand and thrust it downwards, puncturing the creature’s shoulder, now relying on his knives to hold the vampire down just long enough. He debated whether he should ask some questions while he was at it, but given that he already knew the location of where Ben was supposed to be, he didn’t think he’d waste his time. Joseph had wanted to test a theory after all but that seemed null and void given the fact the vampire had revealed itself to him.“Hope you’ve made peace with whatever God it is you worship,” Joseph murmured softly, reaching for the wood he’d laid to rest beside the vampire. “Because I’m about to send you on a one way trip to see them.” Joseph drew back and lifted the wood, thrusting it down in one short and sudden movement. It drove the wood into the vampire’s chest – right through the heart – until the vampire burned away beneath him, light disappearing from its eyes the further the progression of ash got until it was nothing more than a pile of dust, catching on the Las Vegas breeze. “One down.”

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November 9th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Don't Lie To Me Time: 02:18 pm Current Mood: working

[[Non Journal Entry]] “You ever get a feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach?” Joseph questioned, dragging a chair across the glass littered and blood covered ground. “The one that tells you that something’s wrong and nothing is ever going to get better?” He tipped his head, light catching on a high cheekbone glistening with sweat. “It sort of sits right down in the stomach and it festers, long after you’ve given up trying to figure out what it is and why it’s there.” The chair was spun on one leg then slammed down hard, straight across an already bleeding and already battered man’s throat. “I got that feeling soon as my friend called me to tell me her boy was missing, again.” Joseph straddled the chair and leaned forward, crossing the arms over the top of the chair to peer down at the man through a dark strand. “That feeling got worse when I found his girl jacked up on heroin and talking nonsense.” Someone stirred and Joseph eased his weight back, tracking the movement with the still smoking muzzle of the Beretta he’d bought only hours before. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He turned his head and offered a slow reaching smile. “Consider yourself lucky I only shot you in the knee.” He turned away and back to the guy he’d put beneath him once the other man had slumped back to the ground, groaning into his own blood. “So, I’m told on the street that you’re the guy Ben was working for. The guy he got all the coke from and the guy that came looking for him when he was short.” The guy trapped beneath him gagged for a moment as the chair rocked forward and Joseph eased the rug of the chair across the bruised throat. “Fuck you,” the man managed to choke out, spit and blood flying in all directions. Joseph fell silent for a long moment, just watching the other man before he stepped off the chair and pulled it away, replacing the weight of it with himself. “Wrong answer,” he muttered as he gripped the other man’s hair and went to work with talented fingers that wielded a knife like an extension of his self. It wasn’t long until the small area was filled with muffled cries of pain and guttural sounds, broken only by a small, “Okay, okay. I’ll talk.” Joseph drew back, wiping the blade on his denim clad thigh and smiled, patting the other man’s cheek. “Good boy.” He rocked back onto his heels then rose to his feet, fisting a hand in the guy’s collar before hauling him to his feet and thrusting him into the chair that had been choking him previously. “Now talk, and remember I can tell when you’re lying to me.” The guy slumped back into his chair and he reached up to stem the blood flow from his nose. “What do you want to know?” “Everything,” Joseph answered as he reloaded his Beretta and he waited.

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November 6th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Armed And Dangerous Time: 10:44 pm Current Mood: accomplished

[[Non Journal Entry]] “So you got twin Berettas ‘cause I know how much you love that shit,” Sam drawled as he cocked his head at Joseph’s impressive array of weaponry. “Couple knives, sharp like the day they’d been made. You also got yourself two 9mm pistols and of course, boxes of ammo for the guns.” He snorted and spoke around a mouthful of that strawberry flavoured gun he loved so much. “Hell, why don’t I throw in a couple grenades and we can call it an even split?” Joseph merely cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, okay…” Sam muttered, holding both hands up in surrender. “I was just kiddin’. Geez, way to take it seriously.” He sniffed and eyed the weapons again. “You going off to war or somethin’ like that? Awful lot of firepower here for one guy.” Joseph slid a bundle of money out and wiggled it under Sam’s nose as he stepped behind and around the other man. “Think this ought to be enough to cover expenses and keep that loose lip of yours zipped shut?” Sam snatched it from Joseph’s hand lightning quick and took his time with counting the notes, feeling the textures under his callused fingers. “Mmm, yeah. Definitely.” “Told you I’d pay what was owed,” Joseph muttered. He reached out to trail his fingertips over the cool metal of a Beretta, caressing it in the same way he had lovers in his past. “We good?” Sam nodded and grinned toothily at Joseph. “We’re good, man. All good.” Joseph lifted a bag, resting it across the hood of Sam’s car and split it open, filling the depth with the guns and everything else. “Glad to hear it.” He zipped the bag up and then reached out a hand. “Nice doing business with you, like always.” Sam reached out to clasp Joseph’s hand in his own before drawing him into a hug. “Yeah, man. You too.” He patted Joseph’s back before pulling away. “It’s good having you back.” Joseph chuckled and smiled. “Yeah, it’s good to be back.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and clasped Sam’s shoulder before wandering in the direction of his car. He had weapons and now for the hard part: finding the kid.

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November 4th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Tangled Web Time: 12:19 am Current Mood: working

[[Non Journal Entry]] Joseph stirred from a light doze on his new couch by the dull vibrations of his phone against the nearby wooden table. He fumbled at first - consciousness still foreign to him - but eventually he was awake enough for his fingers to close on the offending object. “‘ello?” “Joseph?” Instantly consciousness hit him like a cold splash of water in the face. “Becky?” There was a slight pause and Joseph used the time to rub at his eyes and hair before swinging his legs around and flattening the soles of his feet against the ground. “What’s up?” Becky never called unless there was something going on and with a boy like hers there was always something going on. “It’s Ben,” she answered, voice pitched low. “I think he’s in trouble.” Joseph had been wondering how long he’d be in Vegas before he got a panicked call from Becky hot on the heels of his boy’s stupidity. “What kind of trouble?” Becky took a shaky breath. “He got into drugs, Joseph. Cocaine, that kind of thing. Told me that he could make a fortune out of it, wouldn’t listen to me when I told him he should just stay away from it and focus on his education.” Well, this sounded stupid. Joseph lit a cigarette and let it hang from his fingers as he coaxed Becky to keep going; keep telling him what had been happening in his absence. “He started snorting more and more of what he should have been buying and before long he was deep in debt.” “How far has it gotten?” Joseph asked, being clinical with questions because he needed to know how serious the situation was and what measures the men her son had been working for had gone to in order to get their money back. “They broke the fingers on his right hand and when that didn’t work they broke his leg.” Joseph nodded, inhaling smoke and exhaling it only when he needed to ask something. “And you’re calling me because he hasn’t been home in a couple of days?” That was usually the way, Ben disappeared and Becky called Joseph to track and drag his sorry ass home. Becky’s voice broke as she tried to answer Joseph and it took her a couple seconds to find it all over again. “I haven’t seen him in three days, Joseph. And I can’t find him anywhere, he isn’t answering his phone. It’s not like him, usually he’s good at keeping in touch.” “Do I even want to know how much he’s in deep for?” Joseph trailed through to his bedroom, rifling through his drawers for a shirt to wear. “It’s too much.” “So it isn’t something I can make back on the Casino floor?” And Joseph would if he could. Becky had been one of the few people that had helped him out way back when he first came to Vegas and Joseph didn’t forget things like that. Becky gave a soft brittle laugh. “I wish, Joseph. I wish.” She paused for a moment. “Just find him for me, please? I… I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him, I really don’t.” Joseph flicked ash aside and shook his head. “It’s not going to happen, Becky. You know me I always bring him home. This time won’t be any different.” “Promise?” “I promise,” Joseph answered. “Now you get on with whatever it is you need to do and I’ll be in touch.” Joseph ended the call and finished buttoning up his shirt, taking the last drag of his cigarette before starting a new call. “Hey, it’s me. I need the usuals.” He nodded his head, scribbling a few notes of the place and time on the palm of his hand. “I’ll see you there.”

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October 25th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Better Late Than Never Time: 06:14 pm Current Mood: confused

[[Non Journal Entry]] The weirdest thing about this whole fucked up experience is that Joseph has every one of Joel’s memories and every conversation he ever had is echoing in his skull, like some taunting voice that reminds him every so often that he might just be going insane. He’s beginning to wonder if maybe he’s schizophrenic, like maybe Joseph’s just an imaginary character that he’s pulled on so tightly that he can’t see beyond him, some kind of safety net when being Joel’s too much. Alternatively, maybe Joel was a figment of an overactive imagination belonging to a man stretched to the limit. Joseph is trying to wrap his head around the fact that for God only knows how long he was this man called Joel who was an actor on a show called Birthright, and every one of his relationships and experiences are just things written in a script and none of them meant anything. He supposes that is the scariest thing of all – that his life just didn’t mean anything, especially when he’s lived and breathed it for years and years. He has the memories and the scars to prove as much. If he spends too long thinking about this he’s going to give himself a headache, if one isn’t already brewing. What Joseph needs is a drink and a drink is what he has, he downs a glass of scotch and lightning fast a memory surfaces and his stomach sinks. He’s spent so long living what can only be described as a waking dream that he’s completely forgotten an important date and he’s pretty sure he can feel his mother’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his neck. “Fuck,” he utters and drops his forehead to rest on his exposed forearms. A couple more curse words escape his lips before Joseph finally lifts his head, ordering one more glass and then considering making a trip to the nearest church sometime tomorrow morning. He has his respects to pay; better late than never.

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October 6th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Twenty Questions Time: 03:46 pm Current Mood: good

[[Non Journal Entry]] Lights. Camera. Action. Joel’s agent had done a good job of getting her client booked on almost every talk show she could find, thinking he should get as much publicity as was possible especially with his return to Birthright. Currently he was sat on the leather couch of a popular talk show, tuned into by a wide and vast audience. Joel had never been one for sitting in front of cameras and answering questions but over time he’d come to the conclusion that if he wanted to get anywhere then he needed to bend a little. The problem with wanting privacy in show business was that after you made it big there was no going back. The presenter - a man who went by the name of Robert Barnes - turned to Joel. “First of all I’d like to welcome you to the show and say it’s a pleasure having you here.” Joel offered his best smile. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Robert.” And the thick drawl on the accent of the words sent the audience into a tizz and a couple people screamed, and Joel just laughed and blushed. “Looks like a couple of your fans are happy to see you.” Robert chuckled and then turned back to Joel. “I guess the question that everybody is dying to know the answer to is why did you decide to come back to Birthright? Especially now. I mean you’ve been gone something close to a year. What brought you back?” Joel laced his fingers together and shifted on the couch until he was able to give his attention to both Robert and his audience. “Well, as you know, I’ve been pursuing a solo career in the movies and for all the success I’ve had I found myself missing a certain quality that Birthright brings to the screen.” He laughed a little as a couple people shouted things out at him. “And to be honest I’ve really missed the character of Joseph, I felt I connected with him in a way I haven’t with any other character.” Robert nodded. “So, tell us about Joseph. I mean, we all know he lost his mother and there have been all these hints that he’s taken revenge for her killing. How do you think he’s coping with the aftermath of everything that’s gone on? “I feel like Joseph is just trying to find his feet again,” Joel explained. “He’s gone back to New York and fallen back into the lifestyle but is now finally free of it but I think there’s a lot on his mind and you can’t just do what he’s done without feeling some kind of regret.” Joel talked with his hands and his face, letting both things express things his words could not. “Vegas is like a second home and I have a feeling that he’ll settle in just fine once he knows who he is, where he stands and what he wants to do.” “Of course,” Robert agreed. His lips slid into a sly smile a moment later. “Any potential love interests on the horizon?” Joel laughed, clasping his hands together and throwing his head back with the fullness of that sound. “Now that would be telling.” He grinned at the audience as several members complained rather loudly. Robert chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to keep watching to find out and see.” Joel nodded his head with a smile, reaching up to take a sip of water. “I guess so.” “Those makeup girls do a good job,” Robert commented after taking a good look at Joel’s neck minus the scar that marred Joseph’s appearance every day on set. Joel reached up to rub at his neck, giving a nod of his head. “Real talented.” “Any plans of doing any movies?” Joel nodded. “I actually have a couple of scripts but I won’t take on anything that might jeopardise the time I can dedicate to Birthright. It really is my passion at this moment in time.” Robert nodded before glancing at his cards with prepared questions. “Any lucky woman in your life?” Joel laughed again and blushed as fans shouted that they would be that lucky woman if he gave them a chance. “Uh… no. I much like Joseph am very single but I guess I’m just waiting for the right woman to come along.” The entire audience aww’ed in unison and Joel turned back to Robert, answering every question that was fired at him with a charisma that seemed to transfer from actor to character. Talk shows and interviews were all part of working under the bright lights, it was something you had to get used to and something you could do in your sleep just as long as you knew what to say and when to say it. Joel finished the show off with a smile and a parting wave before he was heading backstage and calling his agent as she had called him six times and left several messages. “Hey, you called me?” Then there was a slight pause and then a widening of eyes. “They want me to do what!?” Joel cursed under his breath. “They’re aware of the fact that I have two left feet?” He rolled his eyes. “Jumping off a fire escape is easier than Salsa dancing, Kathy.” Joel pulled on his jacket and headed out the back. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect miracles.” He murmured another couple of curse words and hung up the phone. Hopefully his dance partner wouldn’t hold a couple bruised feet against him.

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September 30th, 2007

Tags: gw, interaction, joseph Subject: Favourite Thing Time: 09:37 pm Current Mood: mellow

The band had performed at the Orleans until well into the wee hours of the morning to rave revues. Even better than the rave reviews had been the opinion one Bertrand Thibboux. An older high roller from back home who'd turned the small hardware store he'd inherited from his father forty years ago into a mini empire worth tens of millions supplying the petrochemical industry throughout the Gulf. He'd been so impressed with their sound he'd tipped them a hundred dollars each, and something like that was always good for the ego. With his most direct route home closed due to the damage around Fang Noir and feeling hungry after a long night performing, GW took the scenic route and pulled into his favorite all night diner. A stack of flapjacks and some coffee before heading home to collapse into his bed sounded like just the ticket. Joseph was already there, holding an empty booth and idly flicking through the menu to try and decide what his stomach could handle at this time. He'd already had a cup of coffee and had asked for another, the waitress was busy flirting with a guy at the end of the counter so Joseph hadn't bothered with chasing. Life was too short, right? He picked up the still smoking cigarette and brought it to his lips, taking a drag and letting the smoke settle before just blowing it out and flicking ash aside. His fingers reached upwards, tangling in the short strands until he was able to press the tips of his fingers to his scalp where they rubbed slowly and in circular motions. "Another refill, sugar?" Joseph turned his head, lifting his eyes to catch the waitresses winning smile. Obviously his patience had paid off. "Please," he murmured all smooth tone and casual smile. She poured him out another coffee and pointed to a meal. "That's a good one." "Is that right?" Joseph asked before simply giving a nod of his head. "I'll give that a shot then." ( Cajun Swamp Rat ) ( Made For Dancing )

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September 29th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: First Breath Time: 11:37 pm Current Mood: awake

[[Non Journal Entry]] It’s busy and the crowds are around me and I can just about feel the pulse of the city underneath my feet like it’s been given a shot of adrenaline, it’s a miracle I can stand up straight given the hustle and bustle on every street corner. Neon lights glow and catch on the thick layer of smog that hangs over the city like a blanket - overwhelming and consuming - have to drive out to the desert to get my first fresh breath of air. Ain’t nothing like the Nevada desert, it’s as changeable as a woman and as harsh if not harsher than any human tongue. Hot during the day and ice cold at night, warping your reality, leaving you gasping for breath. Thank God I have myself a leather jacket and good circulation. Tenth cigarette in the space of an hour, restless fingers too accustomed to handling a weapon needing something to do. Skin’s scarred, isn’t ever changing, but at least it tells a story and hell I’ve got enough stories for a guy my age, but don’t we all? Denim’s torn, slung loose around the soles of my boots that have seen better days but they’re worn and they’re familiar and as familiar as this place is there’s still a lot of learning to be done. Not sure how long it’s been but pretty sure the moon is lower in the sky than it was, not long until sunrise and the dawning of a new day. Wonder what’ll bring? Beauty of life is that you never know, you can guess but half the time you’d be wrong. Flick of a wrist and a scattering of ash has me turning my eyes skywards until I can see every star I haven’t seen since I first got on that plane and submerged myself in a life I thought long behind me. It’s been a while since I could breathe - since I could spend an evening not counting the seconds and minutes - since I could just be me and not have to be something I’m expected to be. Eleventh cigarette and counting, I had twenty and all I’ve got left is nine. I’ve got hours before the world stirs and wakes up to join me in another new day. Guess I’d better make good use of the time I've got left. Nothing wrong with a little stargazing, nothing wrong with it at all. Maybe if I pull the brim of the hat down and close my eyes just a little then maybe just maybe I’ll be able to steal a couple hours of sleep. It’s been a long time after all.

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September 26th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: In Nomine Patris Et Fillii Et Spiritus Sancti Time: 10:40 pm Current Mood: awake

[[Non Journal Entry]] Joseph wasn’t sleeping; he didn’t really sleep any more. Not like he used to. Not since his mother’s death. Not since the nightmares had started. Not since the attempt on his life. He was pacing his new apartment; eyes closed and with his head tipped towards the ceiling as muted words strung together by phrases of English passed from his lips. His callused fingers continued to pass the beads, reciting a prayer each and every time they slipped through his grip until finally his palm closed around the cross and Joseph’s eyes opened. Joseph breathed out, feeling as if a weight had just been lifted from his chest. He’d found a new appreciation of his faith since his time away and had taken it upon himself to practice as much of it as was possible without being a complete hypocrite. He brushed his hand through his still damp hair from the shower he’d taken only minutes before feeling the sudden undeniable urge to trace his steps through his apartment until the floor itself was worn into the soles of his feet. The rosary beds were draped around his neck and the cross landed and settled just where his ribs parted and a slither of scar tissue highlighted the curve it took towards his side. Joseph clasped the windowsill and watched as the lights of Vegas shone like a beacon against the pitch black sky and he just lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. He turned and settled himself in the windowsill, legs curled up and arms draped over his denim clad knees with his head turned towards the Vegas night, just breathing it in. As much as he loved being back it was going to take some getting used to.

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September 25th, 2007

Tags: interaction, joseph, michaela Subject: A Wise Guy And A Cop Walk Into A Bar... Time: 11:37 pm Current Mood: thirsty

After having gotten himself settled or as settled as he could get in a new apartment with limited material possessions Joseph had showered, changed his clothes, and made sure he looked presentable. His refrigerator was bare, which meant he needed to grab something to eat from the strip but truth be told his appetite thirsted after something alcoholic. Joseph wasn't like a tourist in a new city, he knew where he could go for things like a good drink, guaranteed to put hairs on your chest if you didn't have them before. He found an old watering hole and paused outside but only for a moment, just so he could soak up the changes and laugh quietly to himself. Joseph jogged across the road and tempted fate by running straight across busy traffic, but somehow and God only knew how, he avoided injury. Obviously Lady Luck still had a soft spot for Joseph in her heart, lucky him. He lit up a cigarette a few seconds before opening the door, disappearing into the crowd almost instantly in his search for the bar. "I'll take a whiskey," he muttered as he slid onto a stool, movements sleek and smooth just like always. "One whiskey coming up." Joseph smiled to himself, settling the cigarette in the nearby ashtray as he shrugged out of his jacket and he simply pushed the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. Normally Starnes didn't drink, but the Blanchard interview had given her a headache. And the establishment she'd chosen was a well-known hangout for off-duty cops, so when she walked in the door she wasn't surprised to see several familiar faces. There were muted greetings as she took up some space at the bar, ordering a bourbon after brief consideration. "And a Coke," she added as the bartender moved off to fill her order. God, this case. And the shit just kept getting deeper. If it wasn't the few news people still interested in the matter, it was Parsons. Her glass arrived, followed by a colder container of soda, and she nodded her thanks to Mike before taking a sip. Some days she didn't know why she bothered. She both loved and hated the work she did, simultaneously and with equal intensity. At least she wasn't bringing it home to her family, though. Everything had a small blessing to it. ( I'm A Civilian ) ( Cop's Hunch )

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September 24th, 2007

Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Somewhere To Call My Own Time: 09:05 pm Current Mood: amused

[[Non Journal Entry]] “So, how long ya looking to stay?” Joseph angled his head, the fluorescent light in the stairwell flickering intermittently, highlighting his cheekbones and the dark hue of his eyes that was barely visible from beneath long eyelashes. “Rest of my life, I’m hoping. But who knows, right? Could die tomorrow, get hit by a bus.” His new landlord, a man called Sid, laughed softly and then proceeded to hack around the half smoked cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. “These things’ll kill ya,” Sid glanced over his shoulder at Joseph, noticing the scar stretching from one side of Joseph’s throat to the other. “Course looks like ya ain’t got much need to care about life and death.” Joseph’s lips twitched, curling them into a slow amused smirk before a soft husky laugh escaped him. “Guess you could say that.” He trailed after the larger man, stopping and leaning back to balance precariously on a weathered cement step whenever Sid panted and practically scrambled for every lungful of air, it was a miracle he didn’t have a heart attack right there and then. “You alright?” Joseph inquired, holding Sid’s shoulder with one hand and ducking down to take a better look at the shorter man who happened to be going three different shades of red. Sid waved his hand, “Fine …just gotta… catch my…” He shook under another hefty cough. “Breath.” He dragged in a lungful of fairly clean air and then straightened slowly. “Only another couple flights to go.” “Great,” Joseph murmured, a slight sarcastic tone to his voice. They continued up the winding staircase until they hit the sixth floor and by then Joseph was wondering if he was going to need to perform CPR. Fortunately Sid seemed to pull himself together, grumbling under his breath as he sought the circular key ring for the key to let Joseph into his new apartment. “Home sweet home,” Sid muttered gruffly before he trailed in, boots echoing on the pale wooden floors. Joseph rounded on the doorway, settling his bag at his feet, turning until he had the wooden alcove clasped in one callused hand and his eyes were sweeping over the interior, it looked pretty decent. “So, what do ya think?” Joseph strayed in, taking it one slow step at a time. “Looks good.” It didn’t have the same feel as his last apartment, but that was only because he hadn’t had time to make his own and as soon as it did, it would feel a lot more like home. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, slinging it over a nearby chair before he ducked his head, rummaging out his wallet. “We agreed rent up front?” “Uh, yeah,” Sid muttered, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. Joseph brushed the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, wetting it and using it to count through the notes he held in his hand. “Just like we agreed,” he murmured as he finished the mental calculation and the money was presented to Sid with a razor sharp smile. “I think I’m gonna love having you as a tenant, kid.” Sid grinned, taking the money from Joseph and passing a key over at the same time. “Welcome to Vegas.” Joseph chuckled softly, taking the key and waving his hand in a parting gesture. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He waited until the door had swung shut before he explored, acquainting himself with every room before finally finding a window that overlooked the streets below and his lips curled, it was so fucking beautiful.

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Tags: joseph, solo Subject: Back Into The Fold Time: 12:23 pm Current Mood: relieved

[[Non Journal Entry]] He’d been smoking since they'd hit tarmac, needing the nicotine to ease the migraine settling in the back of his skull, courtesy of the overbearing talkative mother of three that decided that he was just what she needed to ease her weary soul. She’d talked at him non stop and he’d ignored her for the most part, sticking earphones in his ears and pretending like she wasn’t there. It hadn’t worked, simply because she’d leaned in and proceeded to gush about her boys, shoving photographic evidence of them under his nose. When she’d asked for his input he’d given her his best ‘the American is confusing me’ look and muttered, “Io non capisco,” but even that hadn’t worked and she’d just slowed down and proceeded to accentuate her words, like he was some kind of moron. With baggage reclaimed and escape successfully made before she had a chance to sink those expensive nails in him, Joseph took another drag, letting the smoke fill both mouth and lungs until he could taste the tar suffocating healthy tissue. Oblivion had never tasted so good. He slid out of the doors, leaving the madness of one world behind him as he embraced another. Joseph knocked the filter end of his cigarette and flecks of ash were sent scattering to the cool breeze licking at the ankles of the pedestrians flooding out of the airport, everybody was rushing but that was always the way with Vegas. “Dio, it’s good to be home.” He left the cigarette to hang between his lips as his hands shifted the weight of his bag over his shoulder, and the worn treads of Joseph’s boots and the tattered ends of his jeans carried and followed his every step, steps that took him further and deeper into Nevada and Vegas.

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