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Most Nights

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Most Nights

Post by Cairrotine on 7/8/2017, 19:28

"Most nights, I don't know anymore."
-Some Nights, Fun.


It was another sleepless, dreary night. Marco stepped out of the tunnel leading to the Underground and into the cool evening air of Stohess. His face was tired, but the seemingly permanent smile never left his face as he walked along the road of the city. The brunette stuck his hands in the pockets of his worn out pants as he began to hum softly. His long eyelashes gently swept over his cheeks as he stared at the ground. If there were people staring at him, Marco didn't mind. Only his thoughts kept him company that night.

The soldier felt paranoid. He had just gotten back from an expedition a few hours ago, and this experience still had a toll on him, in spite of the fact that Marco had been in the Survey Corps for a while. He was physically tired, but his brain just would not stay silent. Before he had decided to go out, he had been tossing and turning in bed, mostly worrying about titans. He was still worrying, only this time, he was out in the open where people could see him. Marco cast a glance upward, then quickly looked down once again as he met the gaze of a few passing people. He was wary of strangers, as he did not want to start or get involved in a fight.

Why are you so scared?  A small voice in Marco's brain spoke. They're human, just like you. They won't hurt you unless you hurt them.

The brunette stopped in his tracks and shivered in response to the voice inside his head. He wasn't cold, as he had his scarf and his military jacket on. He was scared, though he wasn't sure what exactly was frightening him. The dark was most likely the culprit, as it slowly crept up on Marco, due to the lack of light being given off by the street lamps.

I should find somewhere more bright, the boy thought to himself.

He looked up once again, scanning the horizon for nearby buildings that were not yet closed. Much to his relief, Marco found a tavern. He walked to it swiftly. The moment he entered, the brunette collapsed on a chair by the door. He felt his aqua eyes close as he gave in to exhaustion.
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Re: Most Nights

Post by Alan Katlewande on 11/8/2017, 01:32

"...Yea, I got some. Lotsa hooded people wander 'round here. How am I s'posed to remember all of them?"
"Oh, you'll soon find that there are wonderful reasons to remember them~" said the girl, flashing a tempting smile.

Alan sighed into his drink from the other corner of the room. Hyda pulled the flirtation card too soon - it would give the tavern owner the wrong idea. Too much seduction, too little information.

Alan and Hyda were both taking on one of the smaller cases, one Alan begun long before the squad had taken shape. They were trying to identify the hooded figure from all those nights ago, who sneaked some 3DMGs to the entrance of the underground. Doing that could give them a better lead of what exactly happened that night.
Sadly, the rest of Alan's squad wasn't too keen on assisting with the case. Vindhelm saw no glory in it. Otto made some jest that next they'll be finding stray bunnies and stopping polluters. Peter just gave Alan his unwavering, unblinking stare and whispered no. Not that it mattered, really. It was a small investigation for now, and Alan had wanted to train Hyda for a long time. The young girl had the motivation to help in any way possible, all peppy and excited, but she truly lacked the necessary skill. Alan believed he could, in time, train her to become an excellent soldier.

Alan was sitting near the entrance of the tavern, just close as to hear the conversation the two were having. He was dressed in ragged clothing and his hair was mussed, and to anyone looking he would look like an everyday drunk, enjoying a drink. Not that he touched the vile drink - he detested alcohol.
As for Hyda, she wore a pretty plain dark-blue dress. It was simple, yet slightly charming. She could easily be mistaken for an everyday bachelorette, looking for suitors. The pair gave no sign that they knew each other, or were part of the same Military Police squad.
Alan was already a relatively experienced actor, easily blending into the scene. Hyda, however, didn't fully get accustomed to her role. Alan hoped nothing would surprise her, because then surely she would break character.
Speaking of character...

A soldier wandered into the tavern, then quickly collapsed onto a chair by the door. Alan was taken by surprise by the soldier's long hair, even though it was tied up. The man was seemingly exhausted. It wasn't uncommon for soldiers to roam taverns, especially after a mission, but this soldier seemed different, somehow. As if he was escaping something... or someone.
Alan tensed up. He hoped this soldier won't compromise his investigation by drawing in some ruffians and making the bartender lose focus. Alan decided that hoping wasn't enough - he needed to find out for himself.

The disguised Military Police captain was thankfully close enough to talk to the troubled scout. Approaching him all of a sudden might seem out-of-character for a drunkard out for a drink.
"Ya alright, boy?" Alan asked in a grizzled voice, trying to seem a bit in his cups.

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Re: Most Nights

Post by Cairrotine on 12/8/2017, 15:35

Exhausted as he was, Marco could not sleep as peacefully as he would have liked. Although he stayed relatively motionless, his brain would not be quiet. He was aware of the presence of strangers, of people that could be a potential threat to him. So when a voice spoke to him, Marco jolted awake, his aqua eyes wide with fear.

The first thing that the brunette noticed about the man who spoke to him was his grey eyes, which seemed to hold a soft expression in spite of the fact that he was probably drunk. Those eyes helped soothe the soldier's beating heart, although he was afraid of talking to strangers, especially drunks.

"I'm fine," he answered softly, analyzing the man as he spoke.

Marco noted that the man was seemed younger than him, but was also taller than him, as most people were. He had jet black hair, and yes, those grey eyes. He was dressed raggedly, as most people in the bar were, but something about his face told the soldier that this man was different. Perhaps it was because his features were soft, or -- again -- because of those eyes. The brunette had to look away so he wouldn't be captivated by the man's gorgeous orbs. His gaze flickered from his hands to the stranger. The soldier bit his lip nervously, unsure of what else to say or do.

Suddenly, a thought crossed the brunette's mind -- he had apple juice. He smiled gently, taking out his flask and opening it. He took a swig of the liquid, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the sweet taste that erupted in his taste buds. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at the man in front of him.

"W-what's your name?" he whispered, his long eyelashes fluttering as he stared at his hands.

Marco dared to look up at the man again. There they were again, those mesmerizing grey orbs. The soldier's heart began to beat faster once again. Why was he scared? This man didn't seem to be a typical drunk. What was Marco afraid of? Meeting new people? Making friends? Falling in love? All of the above?

The brunette smiled softly, trying not to seem so intimidated. His gaze flickered to the door of the bar, which had just opened. A blonde woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail was being pulled into a bar by a man in a suit with an undone, slightly rumpled cravat. They seemed drunk, but not as drunk as some of the people in the bar. They headed to the bartender, sitting next to a girl in a pretty dark blue dress. Marco noted that she was quite attractive, and also pretty flirty, judging by the reactions of the bartender.

The soldier returned his gaze to the man in front of him. He parted his lips slightly as he tried to avoid looking into those grey eyes. He took another drink from his flask, then began to play with a piece of his hair, which had escaped his ponytail. His hair was quite long, even compared to most of the girls he had met. He thought about cutting it a few times, but always pushed the thought away. “Different is cool” was always his excuse.

Different is cool, he thought to himself, as he looked at the not-so-typical drunk in front of him. Sure, he’s a stranger and he’s probably drunk, and he could take advantage of me, but he’s different, right?

Marco gave another smile -- a slightly more confident one -- and clasped his hands together.

Hopefully, not the bad kind of different.

The brunette tried to push the negative train of thought out of his mind, but it remained, threatening to consume his confidence.Still, the soldier fought this demon head on as he looked straight into those grey eyes with as much courage as he could muster.
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Re: Most Nights

Post by Alan Katlewande on 13/8/2017, 14:55

Alan quietly grew more and more nervous as he watched the scout's reaction. His words were reassuring enough. Friendly, even. However, his eyes kept darting away, kept escaping. Was something amiss? Could he see through his disguise? Was he not telling the truth?

The man was shy. There was no doubt about that. Everything from his body language, to the tone of his voice, emphasised this. His feminine features helped further strengthen this demeanor.
The way his hands were clamped... A vision of Marian showed up in his mind. Why now?
Alan mentally kicked himself. He needed to focus up.

As far as the young Military Police captain could see, the soldier was troubled, but otherwise fine. It could be that it was Alan who was making him uncomfortable - he did seem awfully shy, after all.
Alan was relieved that the man had not ill means for his operation, but at the same time, it seemed he had taken interest of him. Alan would have to play the part.
For now, at least.

"My name?" asked Alan, quickly tapping into the identity he had prepared beforehand "Name's Mitchell." he said with a dumb smirk, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
The smartest course of action would be to provoke the shy soldier until he grows so uncomfortable that he will leave. But...
Alan felt bad for the poor man. It wasn't his fault that on this specific night, they had to handle an investigation. What right did the Military Police have to disturb the Recon Corps?
Alan's thoughts were cut when he noticed the couple wandering towards Hyda and the bartender. He cursed internally. This could be a problem. Alan hoped the two won't demand a lot of attention, otherwise the bartender will lose interest in the flirtatious girl and the information will be delayed.
It appeared to Alan that he was right - the bartender fell too quickly to the flirtation game, and was getting interested in Hyda from a... Different angle. Alan could see she was getting a bit nervous. She was still playing the part, smiling and laughing and sending sly remarks, but she had trouble working in questions into their conversation.

The soldier. Right. Alan turned his attention back, hoping the soldier did not notice his abnormal interest in the blue-dressed girl. Hopefully he'd think Alan was into her or something shallow like that.
"I see yer a scout" Alan pretended to just notice that he has been talking to a soldier. His smile widened, looking a bit creepy "What's yer name, greencloak?"

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Re: Most Nights

Post by Cairrotine on 13/8/2017, 17:18

Mitchell, Marco took note of the name for future reference. His name is Mitchell.

He noted how the man smirked and wiped his hand on the back of his hand. He seemed a lot like the drunks in the bar, but at the same time, Marco knew he was different. Most people -- especially drunks--  didn’t bother to talk to the soldier, unless he was in their way.

He offered a smile in Mitchell’s direction, trying to maintain eye contact. Knowing his name calmed the aqua-eyed soldier a little. However, he noted that the man was looking at the bartender and the girl in a pretty blue dress. Or was he looking at the couple that had just arrived? The soldier wasn’t too sure. Either way, it was making him uneasy. Marco half expected some rogues to come in and start a fight. He really hoped Mitchell wasn’t one of those people. The brunette had bad experience with such rogues, coming from a home in the Underground, and he really did not want to relive those horrible memories.

He snapped back to reality just in time to notice that the drunk civilian had asked him a question.

“I’m Marco,” the soldier replied, struggling to keep his stutter out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The brunette took another sip of his apple juice, trying to stay calm. He was smiling, but he was scared. He was pretty sure Mitchell could see through the facade he put up, but the soldier still tried to seem like everything around him was normal. He tried to pretend that he did not think that something was wrong. However, the air was thick with tension. Marco did not like the aura lurking about. He just wanted everything to be okay for one night.

Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck,
Some nights I call it a draw.
Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they’d just fall off.


The soldier did not understand what stimulated the words that had just popped into his head. It sounded a little like the poetry that he often read too much of, but for some reason, even the beauty of the poetry could not capture the emotion that the aqua-eyed boy envisioned. Marco imagined a melody with those words and that repeated phrase -- some nights. He even managed to mentally come up with some sort of harmony that matched the melody. The soldier would have hummed it right there, had he not been wary of the situation at hand.

Marco tilted his head slightly, looking at Mitchell curiously. He tried to study the man; to understand just what went on inside that brain. He spoke and looked like a drunk, but something about his body language was off. Was he looking for someone or something? Was he about to commit a crime? The aqua-eyed soldier tensed up, struggling to stay calm. He had to learn more about this man. He had to understand his intentions, whether good or bad. That way, Marco would know whether he could trust Mitchell or not. He could always run away if things went awry, right?

Right, the brunette told himself.

The soldier opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. He was frightened, frozen in place. Those grey eyes were drawing him in, seeming as though they were trying to suck in everything Marco was.

Say something, the boy told himself. You have to break the spell.

The brunette hunched his shoulders, hiding his face in his fringe. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be brave. He was as scared as when he was fighting titans, though this man was nowhere near a titan’s height. Marco bit his lip slightly.

Get yourself together, the soldier scolded himself as he hid his trembling hands under the table. Stop acting like everyone you meet is a titan.
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Re: Most Nights

Post by Alan Katlewande Yesterday at 12:22

Alan watched Marco tense up more and more. He started worrying. Did he say something wrong? Was the scout completely insane? Whatever the case, it seemed the scout was eating himself up. Trying to say something, then obscuring his face. Alan felt such pity and sympathy towards the fellow soul.
And yet...
Even without looking, Alan could hear the drunken shouts of the couple at the bar. He could also hear Hyda's soft voice struggling to get the bartender's attention discreetly. He could hear her voice wavering. She needed help, and soon.

Alan considered the situation. First, he had to calm down the soldier - he was like to burst if Alan were tk make any sudden movement. It may not be the most tactical solution, but Alan felt too bad for the poor lad.
"Hey." he spoke quietly to Marco, in his normal voice. His expression turned from a drunken grin to a reassuring, earnest smile "Relax. Everything's fine. I can leave you be, if you want."
He turned quickly to look at the loud couple at the counter, then turned back to the shy scout.
"I'll need to go for a second. Try to enjoy the show, or ignore it. Whichever you'd preffer, Marco."
And with that, the disguised Military Police captain rose, and stumbled his way to the enfolding scene at the bartable.

"Stop it, Geraldt~" laughed the woman as her man hugged her from behind (Still holding a glass in one of his hands) and kissed her playfully on the neck.
Gerald rolled his head back and his laughter thundered across the otherwise quiet tavern.
The bartender looked at them, rather annoyed. Alan assumed he wanted to get back into the conversation with the blue-dressed temptress, but was far too distracted to do so properly. Alan decided to do the not-so-humble man a favor, and take care of his problem for him.

"Oi!" Alan called out, trying to find the exact right balance between drunk and friendly.
"Hmm?" The couple turned to him, interested in the new character.
Alan pointed a finger at them with his glass-holding hand, holding it up only for a bit before staggering back. "That's a pretty damsel you have there. How 'bout a drinking contest? Winner gets a smooch from that lovely." Alan grinned from ear to ear, like he'd seen Cora do so many times.
"What? No." a baffled look appeared on the drunk man's face as he turned back to the bartender.
"Aren't you man enough to face me in a simple gentleman's game?" shouted back Alan, with a hint of anger in his voice.
Any logical person wouldn't even consider such a proposal, but luckily for Alan the man's judgement was impaired.
"Come on," giggled the woman in his arms "Look how drunk he is! Dear, you'll be able to beat him easily!"
"Yea" responded Geraldt, though doubt was clearly showing on his eyes. Nevertheless, the man's masculinity has been challenged, and so he sloely walked to a table along with Alan, and his girl brought them drinks. As they walked away, Alan caught a quick glimpse of the bartender. He looked relieved enough that the couple was gone, and returned to flirt and chat with Hyda.
Alan smiled to himself. He found little was as satisfying as things going exactly to plan.


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Re: Most Nights

Post by Cairrotine Today at 18:27

Marco relaxed visibly as Mitchell spoke to him. His voice seemed void of any intoxication and was actually warm and friendly.

“Thank you,” the soldier replied more confidently. “I mean, you don't need to go away. I actually appreciate your company.”

The brunette was pretty sure the last part of his reply was drowned out by the loud laughter of the couple by the bar. Mitchell seemed to also be disturbed by them as he stood up and took his leave, approaching the two. Marco watched them apprehensively, clasping his hands together. Fortunately, they only appeared to be having a drinking contest, based on the snippets of conversation that drifted to the brunette's ears. He just hoped they wouldn't get too drunk, or at least not be the violent type of drunks.

Marco watched Mitchell most of the time. He found the man different from the typical drunks he had encountered. Now that he thought deeper about it, the brunette was certain that the grey-eyed civilian wasn't in the bar to drink. But what was his notice for staying? What was his motive for talking to Marco? Why did he seem to want the couple to be quiet?

The questions made the boy’s head hurt. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. He was about to drift off once again, when he suddenly heard a chair creak.

“Seems suspicious, huh?”

Marco looked up, meeting the wide blue eyes of a wild-haired female. The patch on her jacket signified that she was a member of the Garrison. She gave a lopsided smile, perching her goggles on top of her head.

The brunette nodded, not knowing how else to reply. The girl continued to ramble, twirling a strand of red hair on her finger.

“That guy seems out of place and so does that girl,” she gestures to the lady in the dark blue dress. “The way they act; the way they talk -- if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that they were spies or something.”

The red-haired garrison girl laughed once more, taking a swig from her glass. She then wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her jacket, then held out her hand to the apprehensive scout.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. My name is Raina Smith. I’m not related to Commander Erwin, don’t worry,” she gave another tipsy smile. “I’m just your regular garrison gal with a little more of this noggin than I let on.”

She pointed to her head, then held out her hand once more. Marco hesitated, before taking her hand with a warm smile.

“M-marco Aberneyth,” he stuttered shyly. “It’s n-nice to meet you.”

“Awe, what a cutie,” Raina gushed, earning a blush from the young soldier. “Don’t worry about anything I just said, okay? I just like to blab.”

The brunette nodded, but continued to watch the redhead in front of him warily. Marco noted that her blue eyes were darting between Mitchell, the couple and the lady in blue. Her face was serious, in spite of her light-hearted tone. This began to make the soldier slightly more uneasy. Was a fight about to break out in the bar?

Raina suddenly stood up. The motion was abrupt, and caused Marco to let out a tiny yelp. The redhead gave a brief smile, placing her hand on the brown-haired boy’s own hand.

“Stay calm. Let me just try something.”

The soldier swallowed harshly, noting the mischievous glint in the garrison’s eyes as she stalked over to the bartender.

“Oi!” Marco cringed as Raina’s voice echoed through the entire bar. “Can’t anyone get good brandy in this ol’ hole?”
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Re: Most Nights

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