proper shot technique {enzo}

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shrimp
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proper shot technique {enzo} Oct 14, 2018 23:14:31 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Oct 14, 2018 23:14:31 GMT -5

HEARTH JOVYAL

The crowd's huge by the time I'm at the door, but that happens when Ma asks you to pull a longer shift - Friday nights are when The Bowline's at breaking point, pots threatening to boil over with the number of crabs Janice insists on throwing into the stew. "Saves time" she says, "Ya cook both at the same time." Well I call bull - it doesn't save time when I'm the one cleaning up the mess, I've already got enough on my plate. Twelve plates, in fact, because that's the number I'm juggling when all hell breaks loose.

But it's fine. It's fine. Donax - he's the host, always smells of last night's hotboxing or maybe this morning's - stopped by an hour beforehand, so he knows the oysters are gonna come a lil late. There's nothing to worry about - even had time to take a shower. And put on deodorant. And gel, right? Shit, gel. No, it's fine.

God I can't wait to get smashed.

Donax's sister - you know, the stuck up one - answers the door, but she's always down for a good oyster so she makes sure I can get to the kitchen, carrying the tray above my head with arms outstretched. There's some cheers at my 3 o'clock and I laugh and holler back, something about being the clam man. And that's fair, Ma did throw in a few batches of baked clams in as well. "On the house," she says.

Sure, you can call it that. I've been to a couple of these, there's always leftovers.

I think I'm what they call a floater, 'cause I never settle, jumping from one crowd to the next. But there's always someone to talk to, and that someone today could be Enzo Krearns, who I don't think I've seen at Donax's before - he always seems to he has something else to do, like he's got too much on his plate. And with what he's been through he definitely does.

"Enzo, dude!" I call out, grinning as I squeeze through the crowd. "Long time no see man, glad you could make it."

And I am glad he's here. He could use a break. We all could.

Tom
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proper shot technique {enzo} Dec 11, 2018 2:19:39 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Dec 11, 2018 2:19:39 GMT -5

ENZO KREARNS

Everett is giving him the same talk that their mother used to give him. Not like it mattered anyways, he always followed his own rules of not getting into trouble, unless someone was asking for it. Though, he hasn't gotten into a fight in what feels like years. Probably for the better. Enzo Krearns wasn't the boy he used to be before the tsunami. A washed up career from four who god forbids has to work to keep his family alive. A groan of irritation comes from his throat as he rolls his eyes jokingly at Everett.

A ruffling of his hair is all he gets from his slightly older brother as his feet take him away from the house that was theirs. Pulling out the cigarette from it's carton, he lights it up letting smoke mix with open air. The feeling of a drag sending the nerves and stress of the next week out of his body. A party wasn't really his scene, but Everett had told him to get out of the house for something fun. As if his existence at home was stressing out the others there, if he did, well he didn't care. Lots of things needed to be done and there was no way he was going to let Nemo shop for groceries without someone. Their little brother always gets lost on his own and Enzo was not going to send out another search party for his brother.

Donax's place was not somewhere he's been, but right now, he doesn't mind. Stubbing out his cigarette, he marches inside to the sound of people enjoying their evening. Someone from the training center had come up to him and offered him some fruity drink that smelt more of alcohol than fruit. Enzo could only come up with a J for the name, but it's enough to make the guy smile as Enzo avoids the awkwardness of that conversation. He doesn't need anyone asking him about training when it's the farthest thing from his mind. Newt and his family needed him more than some stuck up careers who can hit a dummy hard.

Alone on the edge of the party is where Enzo resigns himself to. Not like it was an unusual place for him, typically he avoids the crowds. Not much of a gossiper and people always are more curious about his name and training than anything substantial about him. A friendly smile to some girl he's definitely seen around the diner and another who was from his school, but he could not for the life of him put a name to their faces.

The party grows a lot more through the evening and Enzo's pretty buzzed by this point. Time seems to flow quickly in Donax's place, but he doesn't mind living on the edge of everyone and the buzz that's making his chest feel warm. Friendlier to others as he tells a quick joke to a few people who wanted to talk to him. A quick glance to his glass is all it takes for him to move back to the edge of the party to refill his cup. By this point, Enzo thinks it's about perfect that he can see Hearth Jovyal calling to him.

"Enzo, dude!" All Enzo feels is the warmth in chest and a small smile pull on his lips as he looks to Hearth. "Long time no see man, glad you could make it."

Enzo was glad to.

Always a joy to see Hearth.

"Hearth!" Give it to Enzo to feel like the ocean breeze has found a way back into the room. Or it could be the smell of those baked clams. He couldn't really decide on which it was. "Glad I could too. Been awhile since I've been able to come out of the house for something other than work or training."

A friendly arm around Hearth's shoulder in a mock hug, mostly because it's too hot in the room for a full on hug. The alcohol was making him a little warm inside, but he still continues to let himself smile. Smile enough that he wasn't in pain from everything else happening at home or within the Krearns' family name. A moment as Enzo brings his cup to his lips and then looks back to Hearth with friendliness on his lips.

"So, I'm guessing you brought your ma's backed clams?"

A small chuckle as he watches the crowd once more with curiosity before he speaks again to Hearth.

Make sure I don't have one. I don't want to suffer through that again."

A chuckle as he looks back to Hearth.

It may be the alcohol talking, but Enzo feels better now that Hearth Jovyal is here.

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

shrimp
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proper shot technique {enzo} Dec 16, 2018 22:29:47 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 16, 2018 22:29:47 GMT -5

HEARTH JOVYAL

I laugh, the vibrations resonating in my lungs. “Damnn man, I’ve even saved you the best ones - all sauce, no clam. But seriously, great to see you. You work too hard.” I give him a good whack on the shoulder, a small squeeze, and in return: a signature Krearns grin. Enzo’s been through too much shit over the years; the whole family, really. They deserve a lot more than the hand they’ve been dealt, yet they still float above the waves, driftwood drying anew in the sun.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, peering into his cup, but I don’t have to linger for more than a moment before the signature smell worms its way into my senses. My nostrils flare, my eyes squint, and I frown. “Rank.”

“Did Dirty Pete give this to you? You never know what’s in his punch, dude - probably got rubbing alcohol or something.” I turn, scanning schematics for... drinking games, later. dance uh, couch? Later. Bar - there we go. Enzo speaks, I look back.

“Yeah, probably was Dirty Pete. Dunno I like it sort of. Once you get past the burning taste."

“The burning- c’mon, I’ll make you something better. They’ve got the good stuff if you pay up.”

"I'll pay up as long as I am paying to you and no one else."

I chuckle, leading him off, my arm slung around his shoulder. “Well,”

Pay up, of course, is slang for “take a shot of one of Donax’s shitty, shitty homebrews because he’s ‘got plans, man’ and ‘word of mouth is the best advertisement, it’s the secret that everyone keeps.’ Everyone, says that, Donax. But it’s chill. And I haven’t died yet!

Tonight it’s not the worst thing I’ve heard of. Vodka infused with sour orange and thyme, but why did he rim the edge with... Is that squid ink? Elbows resting on the bar, the music screeching, I lean close to Enzo’s ear. “I’ll take yours if you don’t want to.”

You know what he does? He just grabs it, plucking a grape straight from the vine. "'m fine. It looks good."

I raise my eyebrows. “You’ve got balls, man. Alright,” I clink my glass against his, the ink transferring. “Cheers.”

///

I don’t swim, but alcohol is its own type of wave. You’ve got to let it run its course.

///

I swap out the vodka for gin, add a splash of wine, infused with the herbs that grow along the coastline, some orange leaf liquor with a bitter tang. I peel a spiral of sour orange skin with my pocket knife, calm and precise as we jester, laugh.

“You’ve gotta sip this one,” I say, passing Enzo the solo-cup cocktail, high-brow meeting the floor. I down another shot of Donex’s trash, no squid ink on its rim (“Dude why” ‘because you’ve got the bright, like the sun, and you’ve got dark. Shadows. Death.’), and pour a vodka soda for the road.

///

I take long sips from it as we find our way into a cluster of truth or dare hosted by Viridis, Donax’s sister who’s poised on a chaise lounge, her girlfriend draped across her shoulders. Like an empress she dolls out punishments, but when she spots us her eyes glimmer. “Jovyal, Krearns.” Our names leave her lips like incantations and I feel as if I’ve been hexed.

The circle too small, our shoulders are pressed together. I lean back, whisper a joke as our arms brush.

///

We’ve taken too many clam shots, so much that I’ve almost worked my way around from ‘worst clam salesman’ to ‘absolute best clam salesman’ if you counted how many were eaten, not how many people ate. But the party's still kicking - we wash it down with whiskey sours and the thrumming of the bass. The music is probably? Bad? But the tide is smooth, we dance to the rhythm. His eyes, stark against the UV lights, dangling haphazardly from the ceiling. I can feel my heart, tapping with the beat.

Donax pulls me aside, a different kind of high on his mind. Stuck between one and another, I squeeze back in after the hit’s running through my veins, lightly squeezing Krearn's wrist. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

///

We walk, hours later, balance off-kilter, behind the gaggling group in their quest for something savory. My face is numb but my hand’s around his waist as we follow, the waves lapping at our feet. The boardwalk thrums with life, Annie Morrisen surviving Day 7, and for once the air feels right. The high's beginning to fall, but I smile. It's all good.

“You doing alright? I know ‘s a lot but - they’re just having fun, y’know?”

Last Edit: Dec 16, 2018 23:06:21 GMT -5 by shrimp