BLOCK PARTY [open]

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Kody was always the one to be at the parties, unlike her sister who was normally about strict business - from her opinion. She parked her chevrolet on the side of the road and killed the engine. She flipped down the mirror and checked her face and her hair, scrunching strands here and there. When she was finally satisfied, she jumped out of her truck and crammed the keys in her pocket.

This evening she wore shorts with a blue, blousy tank and leather flip flops. Her hair was pulled back with a bit of a bump on the top of her head and her curls flowed in a thick ponytail on the back of her head. Her main accessory tonight would be alcohol, yes, of course.

She reached to the bed of her truck and found the lid to the silver cooler, she flipped it open and grabbed a can, then slipped the coozie on it that was handy in her back pocket.

She shut the lid and walked towards the crowd of people in the empty coldasack (sp?) where there was a few trucks, and one playing music. Some people were dancing, some were socializing, some were buzzed, and who knows what the others were doing that werent doing one of those three. She cracked the can open and took a drink of the beer, feeling a bit dehydrated to say the least.

Time to party.

[/size]

[rain]

Unpacking all day had left the tall Britain longing for a change of scenery. As he finished adjusting the final picture on his wall, Oliver's ears twitched as the sound of music wafted through an open window. The house still had the "new" smell and he was working diligently to air it out. Between caulk, drywall, and paint, it just wasn't a pleasant aroma. He had a few sticks of incense scattered about the kitchen and living room, trying to fog the first floor of his home out with the relaxing scent of sandalwood. As the music grew a tad louder and voices started to accompany it, Oliver made his way to the front door and opened it, peering down the street. A few houses down at the end of the cul-de-sac, he saw quite a bit of activity and was suddenly intrigued. Time to crash a party? Sure, why not?

Having yet to unpack his clothes and put them away, he strode to the bedroom and started digging through boxes until he pulled out a clean and comfortable outfit. Donning a set of tartan plaid shorts that hung to his knees and a black wifebeater, he kicked off his loafers and slipped on sandals. Pausing in the bathroom to run a brush through his hair, he strode into the living room and looked around for Brutus. Whistling shrilly, he heard the jingle of of the Victorian Bulldog's tags and soon the stubby black animal was waddling in a trot-fashion from the one spare bedroom downstairs. Oliver retrieved a leather leash from the counter where he had left it and stooped to clip it to his collar. "Try not to fart too much, and avoid begging as much as possible." He chided the canine in a parental manner as if the dog understood him, and as if he would obey the order to not beg. He smelled hot dogs an hour ago, there would be begging!

The pair left the house, but not before Oliver snatched up a handle of Jack Daniels and his favorite shot glass that made the move successfully. Oliver let the door shut behind them, taking a moment to lock it before escorting Murdoc (or vice versa) down the sidewalk and towards the source of fun. Sure, he wasn't as well prepared as some, but he brought booze and that was better than nothing. Besides, a handle of Jack always made a party. As he approached the group, Oliver waved a hand to them in greeting, the loop of Brutus's leash wrapped around his wrist. "Hello, folks. How's the night treating you?" A thick British accent poured from his lips as he cast his gaze around his new neighbors, falling finally on the blonde femme who was toting a cooler behind her. Smiling warmly, he held up the Jack in reference. "Any chance this might fit? I like my whiskey cold."

[S.LiNGSH0T]

She lingered smoothly from person to person, trying to keep her social beat steady. She took periodic drinks from her beer can til it was gone, she tossed it in one of the few cans that were scattered about the area.

She turned to hear a very strange - to say the least - accent from a guy. She looked around curiously and found him, towing a bulldog and holding her favorite man, Jack Daniels. While in thought, she gained her focus back when he asked to spot his liquor in her cooler. She nodded politely and opened the lid,

Go ahead! Can't promise it'll be here when you need it - I may just have to drink it for you!

She laughed at her joke, hoping it was obvious she was simply kidding. She held her cooler open, trying to figure if he would take her seriously or accept the humor. Some people were different but some were like her, and right now, she was pretty much in the dark.

[/size]

[jagger]

Mirrah, having followed someone else home - she kind of did that, being the social butterfly that she is - poked her head into the crowd curiously, wading through people on tiptoes. Not that she needed to be any damn taller; she was only a couple inches away from six foot as it was. Spiking her gift to the party - a bag filled to the brim with various assortments of potato chip - into a nearby empty folding chair, she shoved her hands in her black hoodie pockets, lips curving to whistle a jaunty tune as she stared around mildly curious and completely unabashed at her crashing the block party - on a block she didn't even live on (yet). Soon, hopefully; but that was going to involve the realtor and she had an appointment.. tomorrow sometime. Not sure when. [Damnit. Note to self. Check calendar. Shoving a mop of hair away from her face, her olive-toned legs twitched, fidgeting as she leaned from foot to foot, the strings on her cut off jeans tickling the not-quite-pale-but-getting-there skin. Today had been a good day. She'd gotten a new horse, successfully avoided crashing her rental, and had a few delicious drinks at the local bar. What better way to finish it off then with a party?

"I brought chips! If anyone.. wants.. any." She trailed off, craning her neck to peer around hesitantly. Big green eyes blinked innocently as she looked for one of the two people she had currently met; and finding neither, a small pout graced her features briefly. Darnit. She was outnumbered. Eyes lighting on the little bully, she cheered audibly, crab-stepping her way over to the little black critter. "Hey, cutie!" She greeted him, holding a hand out for him to sniff. The fact that he was leashed and his owner possibly nearby never even dawned on her; she was just damn excited to see a dog.

[rain]

Eyeing the blonde curled female with an amused expression, Oliver chuckled softly as he dropped the glass container into the ice, piling it around it a bit more as a cradle before letting the lid slam shut over it. With a subtle flourish and spin in his palm, he slipped the plastic shotglass into his pocket. The unbreakable shotglass, man's greatest gift to man. No matter how drunk ya got, unless you threw it under a tire and backed over it, you could spike it all night long and still make use of it. "By all means, help yourself, so long as I get a shot or four out of it." Truth be told, Oliver was a bit of of a lightweight. He detested beer and stuck strictly to hard liquor, when he chose to drink, which wasn't very often. Hence his low tolerance. Sweeping a gaze about in front of him at the folks mingling in the paved roundabout, he leaned on one hip as he brought his attention back to the cooler-wielding woman. "I'm Oliver, I'm down...that way." And with a thumb jerked over his shoulder, he nonchalantly waved off the direction his house was in. It was the newest thus far, the squares of grass had yet to grow in and anyone paying attention that day would have noticed the gigantic moving truck that had been parked outside all afternoon.

Catching sound of someone who could only be speaking to a pet (who uses that tone with most party people?) Oliver looked over his shoulder and downward where he remembered last seeing Brutus. The black smushed face pup was happily rolled onto his back for the attention he was receiving, a total belly-rub-whore, of which he was blatantly begging for. Snickering at the fat pup's unabashed behavior, he shifted his stance so he was giving equal attention to both women nearby, though spoke to he one who was indulging his mutt. "Careful, if you touch that belly, you'll never be rid of him."

[rayne]

A small rusty red punch-buggy pulled up at the end of the road. In it was Julia Sarson. The 21-year-old pushed open the rouge colored door and breathed in the air. Through the crowd of people, it seemed like the road never ended.
Julia was dressed pretty nicely, with a flowing white tank-top and khaki shorts. Big white sunglasses were pulled off her face and into the passenger's seat. She had no trouble walking in her pale pink flats. Her chin length hair was left down, but the front was pulled back in a nice clip.
She briskly walked more closely towards the crowd and smiled to whoever waved. Stopping, she pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket to fight her drinking crave. She had been starting to stop drinking, but it was just so hard. Maybe one drink is okay... Julia thought, but shook it off.

[harley]

Jesse Rupert
Winston (click)
Car (click)

The elder man pulled up in his brand-new Mercades-Benz, headed home to the next town after a hard day at looking at houses, he had made an offer on a pretty nice one, but expensive, and it was move-in-ready. He was just driving by the look at it again, when blazing music hit his ears, he thought it was the next cu-de-sac over, but no, it hate to he the one he was moving into. He cut the engine and walked out, black aviators covering his eyes, his normal work attire over his body; a black suit, white dress-suit, a colorful tie and his shined black dress shoes. He reached into the passenger seat before closing the door, coming out with a small, brown puppy, with bat-ears and a pug-like face; a French Bulldog puppy by the name of Winston. He walked over to the group of people, some already with the smell of alchohaul on their breath. He walked to the most-sober-looking group, puppy cradled in his arms."What kind of Shinangin is this?" A stong Brittish accent escaped the man's lips, like he was shouting to the world, 'Hi there, I'm from Great Britian!' The puppy was held in a defensive position, the owner trying to keep him away from the other dog, as he didn't have all his vacinations yet, he was only eight weeks for heaven's sake!"Does this rubbish go on everyday here? I hope to god not, I wouldn't put up with it." The man wasn't always like this, he was tired frmo a long day at work, and then hving to run home to pick up his puppy, who was due for a vet visit.

[rayne]

Julia had been sitting on the edge of the sidewalk when she heard a British man complaining. Rolling her eyes, the femme walked up to him. "It's a block party," She told the man. She pulled back a strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her slight frown turned into a smile when she saw the puppy in his arms. "Aw, he's so cute!" Julia crouched down, though not much because of her shortness, to see the dog.
Popping back up, she extended her hand in attempt to be friendly. "Hi, I'm Julia," she introduced. Pointing to the dog, she asked "And this is...?"

[rain]

The one who hailed the Queen caught the all-too familiar dialect that the new male individual boasted. Oliver, being born and raised in the affluent and south-east area of Great Britain, he tried to pick apart the new guy's accent as to pinpoint where he had been raised. There were so many different forms of vernacular in the United Kingdom, just like the United States. It was easy to tell the difference between a person from Louisiana and one who hailed from Michigan, same as it was to tell the difference between one from Manchester and one from Surrey, which is what Oliver called home. Eyeing the new gentleman who donned attire similar to his own wardrobe, Oliver had to admit he was a tad put off by his surly disposition right off the bat. Not really the best first impression for one who may be moving in. "I doubt you'll lose any beauty sleep, mate." His tongue curled around his teeth in its thick, British fashion as he spoke, dripping off his lips with no hint of being restrained. Brutus's attention was immediately diverted to the new pup who oddly resembled him, but more in a bat-like fashion. When the black brute waddled over and hopped up to investigate, Oliver hissed at him and popped his leash only once. Brutus wrinkled his nose (moreso, if that was even possible) but obliged.

Oliver eyed the animal in the other's arms, and frowned. The babe couldn't be more than 10 weeks old, more like 8 weeks if his expertise in running animal shelters had yet to fail him. Regardless of the two week difference, there was no chance the mutt had received all of his boosters and was thus exposed to all that may be out there. A pup that size had no business being out in the group, but the only good thing he could note was that at least this grumpy, new Brit kept the pup off the ground. "Cute Frenchie, but if he were mine, I'd have left him in the car with the A/C running. No point exposing him before he's ready." Brutus was well up to date on all dewormer and vaccinations, but that did nothing for the pup, really. The area was new, and with the fact that the life of Parvo alone could live in dirt for up to a year in the soil that was touched by an infected host, it could easily be brought home in the soles of one's shows. On the lighter side, Parvo could be treated, though the success rate was low. What worried Oliver most was the risk of Distemper. Being an airborne virus, it didn't matter if a pup was on the ground or held, and there was no cure for that horrible disease. He'd sat through too many late stages that had gone untreated, all for the want of a few rounds of vaccinations.

From the outside looking it, it might seem to some bystander that Oliver was being a tad cold-shouldered. And he was. Raised as a man of pride and etiquette, he held disdain towards morose and inconsiderate behavior. Excuses or not, this new face didn't own the neighborhood, nor was he the president of the homeowner's association, she Oliver didn't quite see where this guy got off thinking he could crash a party and really, well, crash it. Stepping back for Kody's cooler, he produced his shot glass and proceeded to pour the whiskey for himself, knocking it down his throat before reloading another. Glancing back to the ladies who had collected about him, he held the handle of Jack out to them in polite offering. "Anyone else care to indulge?"

This new guy. Buzz kill.

[jagger]

Mirrah was busy getting her jollies; rubbing down the black bully's tummy with careful consideration to the dog enjoying the attention. Cooing, she had yet to glance up; but heard all - and paid even closer attention when her right hand found it's way under a thick leather soul. Yelping, she hauled off and smacked the knee cap of the individual responsible, jerking her injured fingers free and shooting up from her place on the ground. "Damnit, watch where you're walking, people!" She snapped, wiping her tread marked hand off on her blue-jeaned bottom.

Noting the sound of disdain in the newcomer's tone - and the look on his face was none-too-attractive, to boot - Mirrah narrowed her eyes, face lighting with that all-too-familiar look of hilarious, sardonic mirth. Oh, how fun. He was grumpy. "Gee, sorry love.. would you like some cheese to go with that whine?" Her voice was dripping with sweetness, blinking large green eyes innocently for emphasis.

She clapped the newcoming Brit on the back, curling a long arm around his shoulders and leaning in conspiratorially. "Here's a hint.. it's called being neighborly. Cute mutt. Might want to avoid the chit-chat and get him inside." She pulled away from him to saunter out of this growing little circle of Hell, stooping to pop an ice chest open and rummage through it for a beer. Locating one of her particular tastes - the "Free" type - she popped the top off it off and leaned back upright, finding herself elbow to elbow with Oliver and his bully once more; though they faced opposite directions. She had a fantastic view of some European buns. But she wasn't looking... of course.

Catching Brutus' gaze, she gave the dog a wink, sneaking a potato chip out of the nearest open bag to flip it in his direction; glancing out of her peripherals at Oliver to see if he'd object. Not that she truly cared if he did, the damage was done. And why bring a dog to a party if you didn't expect it to get fed?

[harley]

Obviously annoyed, Jesse noticed the people's teasing. Why did he choose the neighborhood to live in that was full of overly-sarcastic youngins that didn't allow a doctor who worked a twenty-four-hour-shift come home, crawl into bed with his animals and sleep for a solid fourteen hours before getting up and heading back off to work? He was dumbfounded by the comments about Winston."Well, this is Winston. His name is more of a joke, I call 'em Winnie on occasion. The only reason he's out here is because he'll chew up my seats; I'm working with a mild case of seperation anxiety with 'em, and as soon as we get home, he'll get checked out to see if he caught anything, along with getting his final vaccine." The man was overly protective of his animals, enraged if someone walked by and turned up their noses at his beloved Dobie, which in this strange country was supposivly aggressive. As the booze was a'comin', he turned his nose away. Even though he would kill for some of his buddy Jack Daniels, he had a fifteen minute drive back home, and only then would he have a single shot, and then cap the bottle and go out for a drive in his SUV, kitten, Dobie, Frenchie and himself, the windows rolled down for the two, and the kitten in his lap, peering over the steering wheel at coming traffic.

He redirected his attention to the baby-faced, and rather younger and shorter, woman infront of him."Pleasure to meet you, Julia. I'm Jesse." He had lost most of the Brittish slang with his move to America a couple years ago, such as 'mate', but kept the ones most people understood, like 'rubbish' and 'snogging'. Ah, this man was a work of art, lemme tell you. "Let me guess your names..." He pointed to the two."You're overly-sarcastic-" He said as he pointed to the woman "-and you're 'I'm all for the animals'." He chuckled, lifting the dog up to his face, before moving him back down to chest-level."Am I right, or am I right?" He laughed, now actually having a sense of humor. He wasn't used to neighbors who actually talked to him, he'd lived in a apartment since his move to America, in an unfriendly building that allowed pets.

[rayne]

"Hi, Jesse." The 21 year old looked at the man, and them at his dog. Julia was always out and about, so she had seen lots of animals. A special connection had grown between animals and her, so she really wanted a pet. Putting her sunglasses back on, Julia looked around. She leaned her petite hands on her beige khaki capris and sighed. The block party wasn't the most fun she'd ever been to, that was for sure.

[jagger]

A dry look of less mirth and more just blatant disturbance flashed across her features and she rounded on the Brit with hackles raised, sharp gaze, if capable of wounding, positively fatal. Mirrah was a happy creature; she enjoyed all things large and small and nearly always stayed upbeat and perky. She hated to raise her voice; and when things got dangerously close to perturbed, her voice nearly always dropped an octave. The calm was unsettling. Like the eye of a hurricane.

"'Overly Sarcastic'? That's cute. You come in here mouthing off with a nasty attitude and dripping with condescension because some of us are out here having a good time and you wonder why you're not greeted like the King of Kings?" She stepped closer only to be heard over the din - some of which quieted to hear the discussion. "I don't care who you are, you have no excuse to be rude to any of us. If you didn't want to be a part of the p a r t y ..." She drew the word out for emphasis, her southern drawl hanging on every syllable of the expanded word, "... then you should have parked your cute little yuppy-mobile elsewhere. And what a crock. That puppy's what, 10 weeks old? Even holding him, he could've caught distemper, if Brutus here," she jerked her thumb at the black bulldog for reference "possibly has it, which likely he does not anyway, but all the same. Parvo can be picked up anywhere, you could be standing in it from a dog over a year ago. And you won't know if he 'caught' anything for at least a week. Exposure times vary, but pathogens have a life cycle just like people." Mirrah was beyond pissed. Nostrils flared slightly, she much resembled some of the horses in her care. "I'm an amiable woman, but I don't abide anyone being rude for any reason. Grow up."

Tirade finished, Mirrah shoved through the crowd in disgust, moving to flop on a curb opposite of crowd, sucking down the rest of her beer in one fell swoop. This was ridiculous. Stroll in here with a gigantic chip on your shoulder; of course it's going to get knocked off. Her temper seething, she took a deep breath, reaching into another nearby cooler to retrieve another beer. Flipping it over to read the label, she grimaced. "Ugh, Lite." And cracked it open anyway, drowning the thought with half the bottle before taking a deep breath. Amiable, yes. Hot Tempered... definite yes. Best yet, if he changed his ways and decided to play nice, she'd probably wind up being on friendly terms with him anyway. That was what Mirrah did. Forgive.. never forget.

[booster]

Logan Anderson smiling to himself as he parked his truck near by. He golden retriever, Nora sat in the back of his truck. He shut the truck off and got out. She told his dog to jump out. With the leash still on Nora jumped out of the truck. Logan picked up the leash and held it tightly. The female dog pulled him toward the party. He caught up to her and walked next to his dog.

He wasn't much of a party animal but wouldn't mind being there for a while. He had to give Nora a walk anyways. He smiled as the golden retriever sniffed the ground. He pulled on the leash to make her stop walking. Nora sat down and wagged her tail watching all the people. Logan eyed around looking for anyone who might notice his 2 year old dog next to him.