[ shadow behind the garish sun '' murphy]

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1663 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. for colored girls NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;] Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. She remembered many things in her life. Sometimes in episodes and other times in jigsaw puzzles that never quite made sense when handed to her, one at a time. It might have been the fact that her life was slowly ebbing away, slipping from her fingers and spilling into pools on the old and raggedy mattress that she slept on. It drips with the sound echoing in her mind moments before it his her face. There was a leak in the roof... It was the first thing that woke her from another restless night that made her mornings cold and wet. Her brows furrowed, but her eyes didn't open. The combination of sweat and water fell from her forehead, drenching her hair until the blonde locks knitted together in stringy strands of thread. She could already tell by the coolness of the space beside her, that Ezekiel had left the apartment a long time ago. It was the weekend, she knew he was probably out drinking with his boys at the old garage they always went to. When would he be back? That was the question. Today, above all other days, she was loathe to get up. She didn't even feel like moving to get herself out of the range of the water leak that was soon to be semi-drowning her if her face got drenched enough. She could do it definitively if she turned over on her stomach to put her face to the old, lumpy furniture, but of course, that would hurt. It would hurt the bruise on her hip anyway; and it was uncomfortable enough already, iron springs pressing on pressure points like acupuncture without the so-called, soothing effect. She sat up slowly after an hour of laying idle, the bed sheet falling from her shoulders and onto her lap. The back of her hand went up to wipe her face as she looked around the dingy old apartment. How could such a successful gang leader own such a piece of shit, the fathom escaped her, but it was better than being out on the street. There were the side effects, of course, as all prescription drugs had at the back of their bottles. For example... she had no recollection of her clothes being off before she went to sleep. It was just one of those mysteries that kept on coming. They appeared out of nowhere, like some blotches of dark purple, ink blots underneath her layer of skin. She was a canvas, a sheet of paper for her boyfriend's poetry; and how macabre it was to her. The thin blanket dragged after her as a gown, wrapped around her thin body as her footsteps pushed her into the bathroom to take a look at the damages. She saw herself more times at once than she had seen once in many times, with the spiderweb pattern of broken glass blacking her way to a full view of her face. She didn't remember if he had punched it, or threw something at it, or even threw her at it once upon a time. She didn't blame him. He was always like that when he was drunk. He was always angry. She pressed her fingers to the shards in a weak attempt to push the mirror back together to form a whole again. "Cherie!" Her hands dropped from the broken mirror and she tipped over the sink to peer out of the bathroom door, passed open room into the kitchen. Ezekiel just walked into the apartment, hair messy, face in a sweat and clothes disheveled. She couldn't quite tell yet, whether he had either been with another woman or two or whether he had gotten into another fight somewhere. He was a little tipsy though, she could tell that much. Taking a deep inhale of air, she went out to meet him, still in the bed sheets she wrapped herself in. He looked like crap, for one but she was also sure that she did too. Somewhere along the way, he had fallen far from the strong and attractive man she had once met him as. It was a whole new meaning to "harsh years". "Where the hell were you?" He rose a brow at her (not entirely at her. He was kind of droopy eyed and unfocused, but it was good enough). She shook her head, blinking up at him silently for a moment. "I was in the bathroom..." He pushed passed her as she said so, moving to sit on the chair placed in front of the mattress and leaning back like a man after a hard days work. She stayed where she was relocated by the groggy bump of his shoulder, turning only slightly to look back at him. In her eyes there was a mixture of distaste, pity and despair. How often did she ask herself how it came to this? Too often... and here she was asking again; once again to be met with no answer. "Did you get into a fight today...?" She asked, but she knew he didn't like it when she pried with questions and she knew she wasn't going to get an answer... or maybe just not an answer she wanted to hear. "Get me a drink" He told her, his voice echoing off in the empty room. She blinked, standing there for a moment before going to grab a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and walking over to give it to him. Returning back to the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her back toward him, staring down at the ground. "You're not doing what I told you..." The scrape from the chair against the floorboards made her cringe and it wasn't long before she heard the sound of glass shattering against the wall. "I want a damn drink!!" He yelled, making her jump a bit as she turned abruptly to look at him. "Babe, I was thinking that maybe you don't need anymore to drink right now..." She half whispered under her breath as calmly as possible. He was on his feet already, eyes drunken and glowering at her. Her own gazed back, half clouded with fear, half clear with confidence. "What are you trying to say? You say I got a problem?" He growled. "I'm not saying anything. I'm not trying to judge you... I'm just trying to think of what's best for you...." Cherie knew that somewhere deep down in his heart he didn't want to hurt her. He had issues. She could tell that he was trying sometimes. Those days he brought her flowers or told her that he loved her; they were more important to her then the bruises he gave. They blinded her into some kind of twisted, masochistic bliss that never let her run from him, call for help... kill him (if she could). "What's best for me is a bottle of Jack. You should go get me one." He told her, stepping toward the kitchen only to toss the money on the counter. Her eyes, however, had been trained on his hand the moment it moved from his side. Sometimes he came face and in her blind spot. those were always the worst ones, making her tumble or stagger backwards until her ass hit the floor. He backed up again, walking over to plop on the mattress, not even caring if the damn thing was soggy with water or not. It was her que to leave and she knew that he wasn't going to be awake when she came back anyway. Nonetheless, her hand reached out to curls her fingers over the crumpled dollar bills. Getting dressed, she headed out of the apartment, walking down the rusted stairs instead of taking the elevator. The last time she had touched that thing, she saw it fall to the ground the moment she got it. As dismal as her life was sometimes, she didn't want it to end, much less in something as unclassy as an elevator. Maybe something dramatic... like a car wreck... The cold late winter hit her, even through the jacket she was wearing, making her shiver a bit. The road was busy as always, people walking the streets and tending to their own businesses on a normal day to day basis. Everyone looked so... normal. Was that the word for it? Or was it, uniform maybe. Bland? She didn't know, but this just so happened to be an opportune moment for her. A moment to become one of "those" people who looked so busy with their lives and had places to go; people to see. Huffing, she adjusted her beanie on her head and started to walk, heading in the general direction of the liquor store but not going there directly. Her eyes wandered dreamily around the city buildings and it's contents of people scurrying about. She was almost like a kid in a candy store with eyes ogling at the world. Not entirely, she wasn't too cut off from it that she didn't know her right from left anymore, but she was enough to always get that thrilled feeling in her chest. Of course, all it meant to other people, was that you didn't know where you were going, and she only confirmed that hunch when she found herself repelled back by a sudden force that made her stagger. She didn't know whether it was because of the pace either of them was walking or the fact that she was distracted; or maybe it was because the moment she hit him she was seeing stars (and not the dizzy kind), but she had a moment when she froze, face going dumbstruck as she stared up at the stranger with wide eyes. She didn't know what to say (technically, she did, but the words weren't coming out. Call it a lack of socialization if you will). She winced a bit as she sun hit her face right over the man's head, lifting her hand to shield her eyes and see him clearly. "Sorry..." [/style][/style]

[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Yeah, mom, I’m just fine,” Murphy said, trying to bite back a heavy yawn but with little success. His jaw opened wide enough that the joints popped slightly as a noise came out; it sounded strangled and probably something like a cat who was being strangled very quietly in the background, and his mother picked up on it. His mother started to ask him questions over what the noise had been and what the hell he had been doing to cause a noise like the one that she had heard. Her thick Irish accent was spilling loudly over the speaker of his phone and he pulled it away slightly, sighing as she continued to rant, and even Ceres propped her head up to look at him. “I’m sorry girl,” he mouth, scratching her head before putting the phone to his ear when his mother quieted, “ma, it was jus’ a yawn. Ya called me while I was sleepin’.” Even just speaking to his mother forced his already thick Irish accent to be much thicker and it was almost like being back home. Almost. The main difference? He was getting whacked over the head with a wooden spoon.

She started in on him obviously not getting enough sleep if he was obviously that tired, but arguing with his mother was dangerous, even if it was even just over the damn phone. Ireland was eight hours ahead and while it was noon over there it was three o’clock in the morning in beautiful L.A and he had only just gotten to bed a couple hours ago after coming home from dropping Ryder off at home. Home being Brooklyn of course. His ex-fiancé didn’t want their son on a plane, even though he told her that it was more than safe, but whatever…he wasn’t going to argue with the woman who controlled when he saw his son. Murphy had zoned out while his mother had been talking and even when he tried to recover it had been too late, she was yelling at him again. “Ten yea’s since you’ve seen yer family, the least ya can do is pay attention to when I’m talkin’ to ya!” He sighed and couldn’t but chuckle a bit, “aye, sorry ma. Jus’ ya know...a bit tired is all.” She grumbled something else before letting out a sigh and telling him to go back to bed.

Murphy did as he was told; hanging up the phone and almost immediately fell asleep. When he did wake up again it was to the hot, stinky breath rolling over his face and a weight on his chest that was equal to a damn elephant, as far as he was concerned. He opened one eye and was looking face to face with Ceres…or rather face to snout, and her tongue slid over his face, making him gag heavily. “What the fuck do ya eat?” His nose wrinkled again and he was rather surprised that his eyes weren’t watering up from how sour her breath was. He shoved her off of him, having to strain himself a little bit in the process considering the Pitbull mutt was one heavy dog, and managed to roll himself off of the bed, stumbling his way through the small apartment. At least a few hours of sleep was better than no sleep, even if he had spent eight days on the road to get from California to New York and back again. Next time he was just going to take the damn plane.

Ceres was padding along behind him and Murphy pulled her food out, pouring a couple of cups into her dog bowl before making coffee and pulling down Irish crème whiskey, waiting for the thick coffee to finish brewing. Opening his fridge, the Irishman rubbed the back of his neck when he saw that the only piece of food was a slowly rotting apple, which was quickly tossed outside before it started making his apartment smell, and even the cupboards were empty. “Apparently I’ll be makin’ a grocery run today,” he grumbled, holding back another yawn. A couple more minutes later and his coffee was done, which was poured into a rather large glass before he added easily a half of a cup of the alcohol to it. There was that stereotype of the Irish being nothing but drunken assholes, and while Murphy didn’t consider himself an asshole, he did like his alcohol. Not that’d he ever admit to having an alcohol problem. His phone rang again and Murphy stared at the number, raising an eyebrow slightly before answering it, not saying a single word as the voice over the phone started speaking to him in Russian.

The conversation that ensued was a job offer that was going to be paying him a decent amount of money, but he was a little dismayed over the chosen language he was being spoken too. While Murphy could understand and speak it, he wasn’t exactly the greatest at that particular one…he had quit trying to learn it about halfway through his lessons. Go figure. There was a meeting that night he had to go too, but until then Murphy had shopping that needed to be done, and boy was he looking forward to that one. Ceres stood, getting ready to go out with him when Murphy shook his head, “not today girl.” She let out a short whine but plopped back down on the floor anyway, looking up at him with those adorable eyes of hers, but anymore Murphy was immune to that look unless you were his six year old son.

Cigarette hanging out of his mouth, Murphy took a look around for a moment before deciding that he was going to walk instead of take his truck. He lit his cigarette and started down the sidewalk, looking upward toward the sky for a moment before dropping his head back down, though he didn’t do so fast enough because he still managed to almost run over someone. A force hit him and he barely managed not to stumble. Any other person probably would have growled or bitched over getting bumped into, but it was as much his fault as theirs…of course it helped a bit that the other person was a rather gorgeous blonde haired woman. A crooked, charming smile crossed his face as he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck slightly when she apologized, “aye, it’s alright. Wasn’t quite watchin’ where I was goin’ either,” he admitted, dropping his hand and slipping them both into his pockets. She really was a pretty little thing.

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 1,100 OUTFIT here NOTES 1,100 even o.o

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1029 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. tears from the sun, keiko matsui NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;] If there was anything she got a flash of in the second it took for them to collide into each other lik that, it certainly didn’t come long enough for an image to draw in with it. Cherie blinked, wondering whether the warmth was from what she had gotten transferred from him, or if it was from the sun. She chose not to dwell too long on it, being that he was still standing in front of her. She wondered why. Didn’t most people just step off to the side and keep walking after they bumped into someone? Supposedly that was what city life was like; a trail of working ants without a means to an end. Did he want something? Nothing yet, but to extend an apology, it seemed. She couldn’t stop staring at him though; he was… intriguing to the eye and his accent gave away quite a bit about him as well. Cherie stood idle with her forearm up in front of her face to block the sun. Funny to say how it’s rays blanketed the stranger and made him look like some kind of god or something. Last time she checked, though, she asked for a pony when she was ten. What was Jesus doing outside, smoking in a long sleeve shirt on a cold weekend morning? The humour in it made her feel a bit guilty, even though she was tickled at the thought. Didn’t even know the poor man’s name and she was already teasing him. It was harmless of course and unless he could read minds, he wouldn’t know because she wouldn’t tell; but still… “Same…” She replied to his comment about not watching where he was going. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her sleeve, looking around and across the street. Cherie knew better, even when Ezekiel wasn’t around, there was always a goon on the outside; watching. The thought took away the warmth and humour she had gotten a moment ago, making her face twist back into its somber state and her eyes grow dull. What was she doing? She couldn’t talk to this guy. It was going to get them both into trouble and then she’d have someone else's blood on her hands along with her own. She shuddered a bit, swallowing down the rising paranoia and turning back to the stranger she had bumped into. He was still here… Why didn’t he walk away yet? Why didn’t she? Why was she just standing there like a dumb doe in headlights instead of doing something about it? Her eyes lowered again and her hand dropped to her side. Someone could be watching… Someone was always watching. “Excuse me…” She mumbled as she slipped passed him and kept walking. Not a single minuet went by before she felt someone following her after she dismissed herself like that. Her hands slipped into her pockets self-consciously as she sped up her pace to lose track of her pursuer. No doubt it was probably one of her goons coming to interrogate her and she knew that no matter what she said to them, they’d report back to Ezekiel and he’d get angry… unless she told them that she was making a deal with that stranger…. That could work, she though and the more she contemplated, the more it sounded like quite an idea. Purposefully, she slowed up again; dragging her feet at the pace long enough until she felt fingers wrap around her arm and pull her forward into an even faster walk. She used her other hand to hold her beanie to her head as her blonde locks fanned out in the drafty wind and she was pulled into the nearest alley way. Cherie’s back hit the wall with a low thud and she straightened up, lifting her chin slightly in a manner. She knew and they knew that they couldn’t touch her without getting a gun cocked back and held to the temple. It didn’t stop them from always wanting to fuck with her though; a proven fact once she felt the cold tip of a silvery jagged blade run down the side of her cheek. Fear struck her like it always did, but unlike any other time, she was able to contain it better. Her light blue eyes went icy cold and void of emotion as she blinked a few times, staring the man in his face. Bruno was his name, she recalled. One of the new recruits that she hadn’t actually talked to before, but she never forgot a face like his; the kind that looked like he was born for nothing but trouble. He was bred a monster from the gastro-pit of a sniveling coward, but a human was still a human. “Do you mind? I worked hard on my make-up today.” She told him in a lowered voice. He snickered, poking her cheek with the knife once before putting it away; she breathed a little easier. “Still letting your ass get slapped around, I presume?” He asked her with a smirk, leaning over her and resting his weight on his arm that propped him up against the wall beside her head. She huffed a bit, glowering a him. “What’s it to you?” “The fact that you seem to like it. Considering how you always try to provoke him; talking to other guys behind his back.” Just as she thought what he thought; men and their way of thinking, even if it was ‘almost’ true… “If he ever got mad at me for dealing with clients, I’d have thought he’d gone batty.” She replied. It went silent for a moment and the two had a stare-down. For a moment, she thought he didn’t believe her. He was waiting for her to say something else; she knew it. They all knew how her nerves were and she never had been good at lying. “Are we done here…?” Cherie moved to push passed him, only to have him reach out and grab her arm again. She winced, glancing up at him in spite. Now she had never hated a person before… but, by God, she was about to… [/style][/style]

[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Normally Murphy wouldn’t have bothered to stick around; you bump into someone on these streets and you just kept walking, maybe checking your wallets to make sure that your wallet was still your pockets, and then they were just forgotten once more. Yet he just…kept standing there. Of course he wasn’t the only one, the woman had yet to move away either. It probably looked odd; the pair of them just standing there while everyone else was walking around them while continuing on their way and Murphy spared a glance around them for a moment before looking back at her. Her arm was held up, blocking out the sun, and he had half a mind to suggest turning them so that she wouldn’t have too, but the Irishman was making the assumption that they were just going to stand there and talk. It just wasn’t something that happened on the streets of L.A …unless you were yelling at someone for getting in your way. He shifted slightly and sun streamed past his shoulder, glinting off the locks of hair that weren’t tucked under the beanie on her head, and it was hard for him to start smiling all over again. Murphy always did have a preference for blondes.

He was going to say something…or suggest something really…something simple like just walking her to her destination. Murphy wasn’t the type who hesitated or thought over what he wanted before trying to go for it, and while he wasn’t the type of person who would push too hard, there was rarely ever harm in at least trying for something. And then he watched her look around for a moment, her face turning somber and that was a look that Murphy knew and understood because he had seen it more often than he really wanted to count. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he simply nodded at her when she excused herself, rubbing his forehead and moving to stand closer to the wall of a building, out of the way of the other pedestrians. Dark brown eyes watched her blonde head move through the crowd before slipping over the other people on the sidewalk, finding what he was looking for. One of the things Murphy was trained to do was to watch and he recognized the patterns of someone following another person. Not that the man who was following the blonde was doing that great of a job of hiding his intentions.

Pulling his cigarette away from his mouth he brushed the excess ash with the bottom of his shoe and tossing the butt into a nearby garbage can, pushing himself off the wall to follow behind. He was an easy twenty or so feet behind the man, his eyes straight ahead yet still managing to follow his footsteps, and he watched him turn into an alleyway. Murphy stopped for a moment and patted himself down, already knowing that he had left his gun back at the apartment, but he at least normally had a knife on him just in case. Too bad this time he seemed to have forgotten that little detail before leaving. “Fuckin’ a,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. His days in the Irish mob had taught him that one shouldn’t stick their nose in someone else’s business because dangerous things could happen, but he wasn’t working for the mob anymore and sticking his nose into business that wasn’t his was how Murphy made most of his money. Besides, how could he just walk away with a clear conscious?

Sighing and rolling his neck a bit, Murphy looked around for a sign that there was anyone else planning on entering the alley, and then started forward only to once again stop at the entrance, standing just out of site around the corner and cocking his head to the side. “…talking to other guys behind his back.” Gang members always had a way of talking and Murphy felt his eyebrow twitch a bit; they weren’t the mob, but fuck, was he really going to stick his neck out for a woman that he had accidently bumped into on the sidewalk? Where the hell was the logic in that one? And despite all this, Murphy wasn’t leaving. “If he ever got mad at me for dealing with clients, I’d have though he’d gone batty. Are we done here?” He had to admit, she knew how deal with it well, and Murphy found himself quite impressed. Getting ready to back away from the alley, he wanted to wait until he knew she actually made it out before leaving completely, but after a couple moments he frowned. It didn’t take that long to go from the alley to the street and Murphy let out another sigh. When did things ever go easily? Oh right, never.

Shrugging, Murphy started forward again and walked into the alley, hands in his pockets as he moved at a leisurely pace, trying to hide the smirk that was threatening to cross his face. For a man who had just been contemplating leaving so he wouldn’t have to fight, Murphy looked like he was planning on enjoying on what was coming up next…assuming he wasn’t going to get his ass handed to him. It was one man, he’d be fine. “There are nicer ways of goin’ ‘bout an’ getting’ attention from a young ladeh’, ya know that?” he asked, coming to stand behind the man. He turned and Murphy frowned a little, having expecting someone a little more…terrifying. Sure, he looked like he could handle himself, but there were a lot of people out there like that. The man opened his mouth to say something when Murphy’s fist moved with surprising speed, catching him in the gut and forcing him to bend over, his face now within the perfect distance to get nailed. Murphy took half a step back and hit him again, this time his knuckles slamming into his jaw, watching with mild amusement when he dropped down to his knees.

Murphy contemplated kneeing him in the chin, just for good measure, but the man didn’t really look like he was ready to stand up again just yet. Where was the point in kicking a man while he was down? He looked over at the woman, “you okay?”

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 1,052 OUTFIT here NOTES --

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1159 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. the great mistake, sky ferreira NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;] Cherie stared at the ground, taking in all this guy had to offer. Sometimes she hated her abilities. She couldn’t control them with her nerves such a wreck as they were. She was seeing everything, from his six year old birthday to his gang initiation. Hell, she even saw when he took a girl under the bleachers of their high school campus. That one sure gave her an unamused kick. The longer he held on to her arm, the more she began to panic, but it didn’t really seem like a good idea to egg him on anymore. She didn’t want to plead either… oh god, she just wanted him to let her go. “There are nicer ways of goin’ ‘bout an’ getting’ attention from a young ladeh’, ya know that?” Cherie blinked for a moment, blue eyes focusing behind her fellow gang member to settle on the figure behind him. The stranger from before… Bruno let her go and she fell back against the wall, letting her other hand rub at her mistreated forearm tenderly. She watched as Bruno turned around to face the guy who had appeared out of nowhere,, almost literally. Last time she checked, she left him standing idly a few blocks away. The streets were crowded and there was no way of knowing which direction she turned or when she turned it. This guy wasn’t normal… She flinched a bit when she heard Bruno grunt, doubling over in pain; then jumped a bit again when the stranger’s fist slammed against his face, bringing him down to his knees. She stared at him, then up at the stranger who looked like he was just about debating on kicking Bruno again. She could’ve ran right there, after all, she really didn’t know what this guy wanted from her. She just needed to go back home before her boyfriend came to and wondered where the hell she was with his beer. She shook her head internally, clearing her mind. No, he just stuck his neck out for her; he was safe; a bit imposing, but safe. She just needed to stop acting on her nerves and get a grip on herself before she did something stupid; or at least ridiculously embarrassing. He could track her if he wanted to; she knew that much, so in a way, running would have been useless. Run from what? She bit her lip, glancing up briefly once she realized that he had spoken to her. Whatever show she had put on earlier with Bruno, it was all over now. She was starting to shake like a leaf again and it wasn’t from the cold. Taking a few breaths to calm herself, she opened her mouth and spoke. “What’s your name…?” She asked him. Granted she was answering a question with a question, but if you look at it technically; she really didn’t know if she was alright or not. Considering all that she had been through… and what she went through on a day to day basis, it was always tough to say. She tried not to complain. Somewhere out in the world, there was always someone worse off than she. In the end, she realized that that was what got her through the day. She pulled herself off of the wall and stepped around the Bruno, who seemed to have quite a bit of time catching his breath. She didn’t know what to do with that now. He saw the man’s face and now even more so that he had stood up for and was now speaking to her. It didn’t matter whether Cherie knew this man or not, now his face was plastered on the DOA wall… unless Bruno was dead of course. Despite him being a slimy little fellow, seeing a corpse of someone she knew still managed to make her sick in the stomach. Point being, whether she liked it or not, she was quite blatantly fucked and what would make it just a little bit worse anyway, would be to leave a corpse around for one of the others to find it than want to make this into an even bigger revenge play than this was. God forbid she actually thought anything like that! She’d then just be fucking herself, just like “Jesus” over here would be if he had done any more damage of what he really wanted to do; and she’d be fucking herself even more to urge him (or even just stand there and not do anything about it. That’s what she usually did.) Pass the dildo~ It was interesting how times like these brought out the most colorful of her language, though she doubted that she’d ever say any sort of thing like that out loud. Besides, she probably couldn’t pull off a decent sounding swear word. It be just as hilarious as her trying to look as imposing as Bruno had, here… until he got floored… She did sometimes wonder when she had gotten so fragile. I mean, she knew she looked a bit like a porcelain doll, but come on now. This was just ridiculous. She couldn’t place it on whether she had always been this way, or if the years of being in her own skin was starting to make herself deteriorate in such a pace that made her feel like she was in the body of an eighty year old lady. I know, sexy right? Still, it was always something to contemplate, and it was a shame how she could go back and look at the history of whomever she pleased; yet her own stayed shrouded in mystery. Not to say that she had forgotten or anything (despite the constant knocks to the head; though they did leave things rather fuzzy), she just couldn’t remember how she was personally. She knew that personally, her father was a child molesting douche. She also knew that he mother was a selfless angel. What she didn’t know was if she was the same now as she was then. People constantly change throughout the years, she knew that. She just couldn’t feel or see them within herself. All she saw was what she was not, and even then she couldn’t place it. “I’m Cherie…” She told him, knowing that it wouldn’t matter much, anyhow of whether he knew or not. Ten minutes wasn’t much of a difference, but she was sure that after a day or two they wouldn’t even remember each others names. Or rather, maybe she would later, if Bruno got lippy, but judging by his accent and the way he dressed, this guy wasn’t from around here; and she had no way of knowing when he would leave. And once he was gone, he would probably be gone for good… Somehow, she found herself unhappy about it. Maybe she was experiencing a bit of Hero Syndrome or something. Because that was what she needed, more mental and health problems. [/style][/style]

[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Murphy was watching the man closely, waiting to see if he got up and tried to fight him again…well not really again, considering the other man hadn’t even thrown a punch. It had all been Murphy and he was rather pleased with how everything had just gone down; the days working as a hustler in the mob had taught him a few things about taking guys down that were bigger than him. A well placed hit to the solar plexus and as long as your man didn’t have the gut of a fucking rock, then he their breath was caught. Breathing out was the simple way of getting rid of that ‘can’t breathe’ problem, but seven out of ten people went into panic mode the moment their breath caught in their chest and even the most experienced fighter or even a mob member, could forget just to breathe out when the time came to it. He ran a hand over his head, fingers sliding through his hair a bit while trying to get rid of that feeling he got whenever he got into some kind of trouble like this. Part of him wished that he would just stand up so he could feel better about knocking him out, but the man was still down for the count…surprising really.

“What’s your name?” Murphy raised an eyebrow but chuckled slightly when she gave him another question to answer his own question. “Alright, that’s fair enough. Murphy…” He refrained from mentioning his last name, just in case, though he didn’t actually think she was going to cause too much of an issue for him though. Well…maybe anyway. There was always something to be paranoid about when it came to mob members, or anyone who was affiliated with them in some form or another. He contemplated asking her own name, but instead decided to let things go down easy, see if she’d give it to him herself. The man groaned a bit and looked up at Murphy, making the Irishman frown. There was always the chance that the mob could sink their fingers into local gangs and give him away…it didn’t really help that he knew his face now. And he really didn’t like people just staring at him like that.

He looked at the blonde woman and smiled, “excuse me, it seems we have an unwanted guest to our conversation.” Murphy took a small step back and then his foot was knocking his head back and he actually fell this time, making him nod approvingly, “well he’ll be out…for a while anyway.” He really hadn’t been wearing the right shoes for such a kick in the face and the bottom of his foot was expressing that quite well at the moment. The fact that the man was still alive was pure luck; if she hadn’t been there and Murphy had actually had his gun on him (or at the very least his combat boots) then the man would be lying in a pool of his own blood and he wouldn’t be bothering anyone. Unless there was someone out there who wanted to give the ugly fuck a funeral, that would be a financial bother. His eyes focused on the woman, still wondering what her name was, though still refusing to ask unless he felt like he had too. What he really wanted to know was what the man’s name was and the thoughts running through her gorgeous blonde head.

“I’m Cherie.” The Irishman smiled a bit, suddenly finding that name quite beautiful, which was more than he could say for any other name he had heard before. Murphy had the tendency to jump in a save people if he ended up seeing something unfair going down, but he’d never quite felt…this…whatever ‘this’ was, and it made him pause to think. Generally speaking he’d take a woman and buy her a drink or flirt or do whatever they wanted to do if he ended up saving them, but there was just something that made him stop from suggesting anything of the sort. One would think what was stopping him was the kinds of men that she seemed to get trouble from, but no…that sort of thing really didn’t mean anything to Murphy. “That’s a beautiful name, you know that?” he said, surprised that it didn’t come out nearly as cheesy sounding as he had thought it was going too. Sometimes it was good to just go with what his brain told him to say. Murphy looked around a bit, eyes scanning the crowd outside of the alley for anyone who looked like they were paying too much attention to the two of them…three if you counted the man who was taking a nap at their feet.

“What was it you said earlier? Dealing with a client?” he asked, turning back to face her. Murphy may not have wanted to go with his normal tactics, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to at least think of a way to keep talking to her as long as he possibly could. “If that’s the case then, you know, maybe we should keep talking? I just so happen to be going whichever way it was that you were going.” Okay, so Murphy didn’t know which way she was actually going, hell for all he knew she was making her way to some clothing shop or something, but he’d find an excuse to go in there with her and continue talking…business.

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 9-1-3 OUTFIT here NOTES my brain wouldn't comprehend the accent so use your damn imagination :3

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1286 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. without lies, sky ferreira NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;] She blinked at him as he chuckled and gave her that look. What? She was completely serious when she had asked him that question. Or maybe it wasn’t the question that made him laugh; not that she was going to bother to ask him. God forbid she said what was on her mind and end up making herself look even more like a little blue eyed tart than she already did; getting jerked around like that. She probably looked like the guy’s ho. She wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did either, considering how things went down. Then again, she wondered if this Murphy fellow would have stood in front of a pimp so simply as he did a gangster. Although had it been his thought in the first place, he technically he already did… At least now she could stop calling him Jesus… “Excuse me; it seems we have an unwanted guest to our conversation.” He told her, making her gaze up at him, tilting her head with a quizzical expression. This time, though, she was more prepared for the assault that came to her fellow member as he was finally taking a well needed nap on the hard, cold concrete. She almost felt sorry for the bastard; he was only doing his job, as petty and low down as it might’ve been. She did hope and pray that he’d wake up and forget the whole ordeal in the first place. It’d save them all the trouble, including Murphy. He didn’t deserve the beating she feared he was doomed to undergo just because he did what he thought was right. Just like Bruno here didn’t deserve to take a dirt nap… not in the final sense, but from the way that force was brought down on him, she’d say close enough. This Murphy was impressively strong. Short though, considering that they were only an inch off in height and it amused her so. She had always been around tall, giant – steroid pumped – men that looked like they had bowling balls attached to their arms and veins sticking out like plant vines. It was kind of gross… and it was what she was currently dating. Good lord what had she been thinking back then? She didn’t know and didn’t think she wanted to know. As a matter of fact, Cherie decided to rule it off as desperate and lonely. Right, she said that to herself now, but she knew that the moment she went back there, she’d be under his spell again. She didn’t know how he did it. It was more than just the force and it definitely wasn’t the personality… it wasn’t even the sex (though half of that was forced on her and the quarter of the other half, she didn’t remember and just randomly woke up with her clothes off… It’d feel awkward if it wasn’t so normal…). Maybe it was because he reminded her of her father. They were nearly the same in every way, both good and bad; so much so, that it scared her. It pacified her into silence and took her back to the years of the doll-looking adolescent locked in the closet. And as much as she hated the old man, she loved him. Just like the fuck wad sleeping on the water damaged mattress in hat mud hut of an apartment of theirs. Fun stuff… She was really starting to hate the bastard who stuck gum under the repeat button in her god-awful life; though she supposed that she should have seen it coming. Didn’t the scientists say that people often got with others who were like their parents? Or something like that, she couldn’t recall. If that was the issue, she was better off stuck in a house full of cats; sombrero sized church hats and an old white rocking chair out on her front porch so she could sit there and knit stockings and mittens for no one’s children, yelling at innocent people to “GET OFF MY GRASS!!” Of course, it was all a step by step process and to get the ball rolling, she’d have to tip it. Maybe she could start with something along the lines of “GET OFF MY ASS!!” Nah… she’d get beat. Best to do what her mother always said: keep her mouth shut and her legs open. Oh, and stay in the kitchen. Can’t forget about the kitchen… “Huh…?” She snapped out of her line of thought just as Murphy made a comment about her name. Saying that it was beautiful? It took her a while to register what he was actually saying to her and whether or not he meant it; but soon enough, she felt the warm rush of blood fill her cheeks until they came out in a rosy pink hue on her face. She blinked; clearing her through and averting her eyes to the wall as her hands came up to adjust her beanie. She didn’t know what to say – thank you? Yours is too? (She wondered if he’d actually appreciate that though; or if he’d take offense to the unintentional feminizing of his name. It happened). It was a little too late to search for responses as he moved on with the conversation, bringing up what she said about having a client. She gazed at him in slight surprise. Seriously, Just how long had he been around to hear the conversation? And how did he get here so fast? Maybe she was right to start calling him Jesus; next thing she knew, he’d be turning water to wine… Boy, would her boyfriend love him then… No homo…. Or so she thought. (Ezekiel did make her question sometimes. He really did fuck whatever could walk on two legs. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was bending a few over on the side as well. It’d explain how he had so much power over all the men in the gang…) “What was it you said earlier? Dealing with a client? If that’s the case then, you know, maybe we should keep talking? I just so happen to be going whichever way it was that you were going.” Once again she was caught speechless by him. This was so unusual, even in L.A. Part of her really didn’t want to be seen walking with him; not in that way you rude people, she didn’t want to heighten the chances of him getting hurt. Bruno was just one man… what would Murphy do with a whole pack? She didn’t want to go with him; yet at the same time, she felt she would be safer there (at his side, she meant). It didn’t take her ability to figure out what kind of man he was. He didn’t do a good job hiding it – being if he was trying to hide anything at all. She nodded in agreement with him and gave one more glance to Bruno before turning and heading for the light of the open streets again. Still crowded as hell; how did people even navigate through all of this? Adjusting her beanie again so that it was tugged a little more downward to hide her eyes (not much of a disguise) she continued to head toward the liquor store; a little self-conscious about going there now that she had company. After a moment of silence, she turned to him as they walked a serious, but light and easy look on her face. “Are you following me?” She asked him. In a stalker-ish way was more of what she meant, but she tried not to make it sound like that. She just couldn’t get it out of her mind how he had found her so quickly. [/style][/style]

[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Murphy didn’t quite know what to think about the woman standing in front of him, and that really wasn’t something that was normal for him. Normally, Murphy could at least get a general opinion of someone and then live with it until he got the chance to get to know them better; however these people were always clients and never had he taken an interest in anyone he randomly saw on the sidewalks…especially not people who ran into him. Sure, he could blame the fact that she was gorgeous, or even the fact that she was blonde (because contrary to popular belief, Murphy does have a type). Either way, there was absolutely no way of denying that he was interested in this woman and he was really interested in why she was letting herself get throw around like a ragdoll. Not that he was going to ask that particular question; unlike most people (Americans, his mind corrected him) Murphy was more than capable of keeping his nose out of personal business, unless that personal business involved him standing around to watch as someone got threatened.

He wasn’t entirely sure as to the reason why, but it was certainly nice that he could actually stare into her face without having to bend his neck in awkward positions. Okay, so Murphy wasn’t the tallest man in the world, in fact he was pretty sure that in the States he was considered short since most of the guys he ever met had easily three inches of height on him, but a lot of the girls were just so…tiny. Tiny in height anyway. But Cherie? She was his height, or at least close enough to his height that he didn’t have to crane his neck downward and then risk getting slapped for trying to peek down a woman’s shirt. Oh yeah, that had happened before and it certainly wasn’t any fun. Not for him anyway. The Irishman kept eye contact with her the whole time…well most of the time. He had a healthy dose of paranoia that would make him look at either end of the alley, study the people walking on the sidewalk, and then finally look down at the brute of a man he had almost curbs stomped, all in an effort to make sure that he wasn’t going to get jumped.

Between his life in the Mob and his life here working for people and killing their enemies, Murphy had learned what a gangster looked like. He knew their walk, their habits, the way they spoke…he knew them so well that he could actually pass for one if he had about four more inches in height and seventy more pounds of muscle. Not that muscle actually meant anything, as the brute lying on the ground could attest too. Assuming he ever woke up from his nap that is. The fact that Murphy didn’t have his gun on him was probably the only reason that the man wasn’t actually dead, well that and the fact that he had yet to kill a person when there were witnesses who were going to be left alive around. “Huh…?” The small sound that came from her mouth and the way her cheeks heated up a bit left Murphy struggling to hold back a grin; he didn’t want to stand there and make her think he was laughing at her!

He would have found it hilarious if she had attempted to return the compliment; especially considering that his mother had always bitched about how ugly his name was. “It’s more of a last name than a first name!” she had always complained, though mostly when she was drunk. But who was Murphy kidding? They were Irish, when wasn’t his mother at least slightly intoxicated? It would be like him trying to tell someone that he was completely sober at the moment. But like his mother, and many other healthy Irishmen out in the world, he was a functioning alcoholic who had an issue with admitting they had an alcohol problem. His mind had wandered slightly, but it wasn’t as though he had missed much in terms of what she was saying because Cherie had yet to really respond to him, not that he could blame her. They were in L.A, he was a stranger, and he had just helped her with seemingly no want for anything in return. Even he had a hard time people like that existed in this city and he had just performed the act himself. Although technically by asking in which direction she was headed, he was asking for something, but that was just the chance to get to know her a little better…there was a better excuse, but Murphy wasn’t willing to try to come up with one at the moment.

But her blonde head was nodding in agreement and Murphy slid his hands into his jean pockets, his fingers the only parts of his hands that were really dipping in, and the tip of a finger grazed over his lighter. He was now craving a cigarette but he pushed the thought away as he followed her out and then fell into stride next to her on the sidewalk. Eyes grazing over the familiar shops, he had a feeling he knew where they were headed, which was a little ironic since the liquor store had been on his list of places to hit that day. Her head turned toward him as she asked a question, “are you following me?” Huh, Murphy had never thought about that…he probably looked like a god damn stalker or something. He rubbed the back of his neck, “well…honestly I guess I am. Jus’ now realized it seems a bit stalkerish…” He trailed off a bit and then looked down at her, wondering how he could put the next thought of his into actual words.

Of course, Murphy didn’t have a problem with lying; not only was he exceptionally good at it, but he also had no problems with remembering what lie he had told to who, making it incredibly easy to keep his stories straight. Lying was an art, and if one kept a semblance of truth in their lie then it was that much easier to keep it mind and remember what it was. Only idiots were the ones who came up with complicated lies to explain simple things. But how was he going to explain why he turned around and walked the way he had just come from and then found her? Simple…the truth. “I wasn’t gonna follow, but I saw that brute follow you…he wasn’t really all that great at makin' it look like an accident.” It was a partial explanation, and he could have gone deeper, but Murphy was a bit worried that he was going to make things awkward…or at least more awkward than they may have already been. “If I at all start making you feel uncomfortable I can leave,” he added, looking at her with a surprisingly sincere expression on his face. If there was one expression that rarely crossed his features it was one of sincerity.

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 1-1-8-9 OUTFIT here NOTES so much for that short and sucky post I was expecting

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1110 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. without lies, sky ferreira NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;] “I wasn’t gonna follow, but I saw that brute follow you…he wasn’t really all that great at makin' it look like an accident.” Murphy told her as they continued to walk. She stared at him, certain that there was more to it, but he cut his words off at the end of the sentence, leaving her to hunker back into her own world of wonders. He really had a knack for being mysterious, that was for sure; not only that but she had nothing on him, even from her ability. He just seemed like a flat out; solid; genuinely good guy. Of course that was also help by the fact that he risked his neck to save her. Cherie had to wonder how many people would have done the same, not just for her but for anyone in trouble. Or had the world shoved itself so far into the pants pockets people shoved their hands into through cowardice to prevent them from cutting years off of their own lives? Flight before fight apparently and she had to say, for those who couldn’t do either ( including her ); that royally sucked. This Murphy guy; he was interesting and mysterious. She could pick out the little things about him to try and piece them into as much of a bigger picture as she could get, but it still didn’t satisfy her fascination with him. Obviously, he was a very observant person, if he could pick and choose when someone was up to no good. He certainly had no trouble watching her walk away; she added comically, realizing that he had to have been watching her for at least a good twenty seconds before Bruno came into contact. She wasn’t jumping to conclusions; just she was laughing at the possibilities, though she never really saw herself as “the type”, or what? Attractive? There were many times that she stood in the mirror after a bath and prodded at her thin limbs; ran fingers through her stringy hair as it stuck together in wet clumps that stuck to her face. Her flushed cheeks peppered with freckles and large doll-like eyes that were plagued with bruised circles from lack of sleep and sunlight; the occasional bruised that lasted for days on end. Ezekiel was always smart about his hits, however. It was rare that he hit her face, and everywhere else was in areas that could be covered with clothing or accessories. Another thing he complained about her; she bruised too easily. “If I at all start making you feel uncomfortable I can leave,” “No.” She said a little too soon after his statement, making her sound like a frightened little girl ( in her opinion anyway ). She avoided any eye contact he gave for that moment, intent more so in fixing her hair. There was no need to go on making him assume things that weren’t true…. Mostly; and she had had enough of reminding herself about what waited at that old apartment, dingy apartment she managed to crawly out of for the day. She was out and she wanted to forget that she ever lived that life. “Uh… Well…” She scratched her head, adjusting her beanie a little. Saying that she enjoyed his company seemed just a little too soon for their predicament. So far, the company she kept with him was a collision of personal space and the sound beating of her gang member. Awkward much? She could say that she felt safe with him, but that was a little too vulnerable for the both of them. She didn’t want him to feel like he was babysitting her either, or escorting her like a bodyguard. It could have been her lack of social skills or maybe because she felt – inferior to him? - Whatever it was, it certainly had a hold of her ability to speak. “I… hope I’m not inconveniencing you though,” She ended up pulling out of her “hat of tricks” ( -insert comedy drum beat here- ….. or not? ). Turning the corner into the nearest liquor store, they walked in; the welcoming bell chiming to catch the cashier’s attention. She wandered toward the back of the store, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about grabbing a forty ounce liquor bottle to purchase. Still, she picked it up from the rows gingerly and brought it to the counter. “Cheryl.” Her blue eyes looked up to see the regular cashier that she often saw whenever Ezekiel sent her off on errands to the store. He gave her a small smile and rang up the bottle, slipping it into a brown paper bag, followed by a plastic bag. “Are you… okay?” He asked lowly and she tried not to wince at the question, feeling more inclined to stare at her wallet as she drew out the money to pay. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She replied quietly as she pushed her ID towards him as well. The cashier leaned in closer to her; trying to get a better look at her face, she supposed. Avoiding him for a moment, she finally gave up and stared him straight in the eyes. “I’m fine…. I promise….” She told him and gave him a look that dared him to say anything else. It didn’t take much more convincing for him once her face was set; as the force that she lived with every day that made the man concerned for her, was five times as dangerous to that man who pried in business that wasn’t his. A perk, if that’s what you call it, to being the girlfriend of a gangbanger. She had as much authority and fear as he did, without the threat or violence. She was the Mrs. Hahahaha! –Insert sudden transition to pokerface- Deciding that she’d be best waiting outside ( or maybe her little panic attack made her forget about Murphy; she preferred the first option… ), Cherie slipped outside of the store. The cool blast of wind hit her and blew her hair back from her face. Note to self: when with company, don’t go to common stores, jackass. It could have been worse, she guessed; and she doubted that Murphy would question. He seemed to like keeping the personal, personal and when it came down to it, she appreciated that. Even if he did question, she already had the usual and simple answer. The common cold… Bazinga- Because, let’s face it. She had that “frail girl” look. You know, the kind of pathetic little soul that always got sick for no apparent reason. She couldn’t play outside, couldn’t eat certain foods… couldn’t do shit, basically. Poor little souls. 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[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Murphy still wasn’t entirely sure what the hell was going on his head at the moment, though if he were to try to answer he’d probably say nothing. No, that doesn’t mean he was just walking along beside her with an empty brain full of derpy thoughts…there was just literally nothing crossing his mind. He had never really been in this kind of situation before, even in terms of his past relationships. If he were in the middle of a story it’d be some kind of hint at foreshadowing, he was sure, but he wasn’t and so he was simply inclined to be there wondering why he was being so…well…he certainly wasn’t being as flirtatious and insanely out there like he normally was. But it seemed like a smart choice, even if his reasoning was unknown; nope, Murphy couldn’t explain to himself why he was just being rather sedated. He breathed deeply a moment, his hands sliding into his pants pockets, and his fingers grazed over his pack of cigarettes, eyes glancing back at Cherie. Sure he had been smoking when he had run into her, but he wondered if she’d say anything if he lit one up now.

Not that it mattered. Okay, so that came out wrong; if she asked him to put it out he probably would have, but Murphy was very rarely without a cigarette between his lips and so he pulled the back out and lit one, making sure that the smoke stayed well away from her whenever he moved the cigarette around. Part of him was waiting for some kind of reaction about why he ended up following her; even in his own mind it sounded a bit odd and maybe not entirely truthful. Not to mention it didn’t really explain how he had gotten to her so damn fast. But what was he going to say? He ran past everyone like the Flash just to see if she was okay? If that didn’t sound more stalkerish than he already felt, he didn’t know what did. “No.” Murphy blinked at the quick response to his question about making her feel uncomfortable and bit back a small grin; he didn’t want to sit there and make it seem like he was laughing at her, that would just be plain rude.

“Um…well…” Murphy waited a moment before speaking, wondering if anything else was going to be said, and he pondered over what could be said without turning things awkward. Meeting girls in a bar or a club always seemed to be easier; everyone was drunk off alcohol, and if they were talking to you with any real interest it was pretty much a guarantee that you were getting laid that night. This was different. It was obvious she had someone already in her life (someone that Murphy doubted even deserved her), not to mention they hadn’t met at a club. It had been a sidewalk, during the day, and surrounded by at least fifty other bustling people around them. “I…hope I’m not inconveniencing you though.” The Irishman shook his head lightly with a small grin, letting out a breath of smoke that trailed in white past the side of his head and back.

“Not in the slightest,” he answered honestly, looking up at the liquor store as they came up to it and he looked at the half finished cigarette for a moment before pressing it against the palm of his hand to snub it out. It didn’t occur to Murphy that it would seem like a rather odd thing to do to oneself, after all that shit burned normal people, and for half a second he found himself staring at the small cigarette burn on his hand. His brain was still loading his actions and the consequences, even as he watched the burn heal itself, and then suddenly he was cursing himself. “Oy you fuckin’ idiot! Just go around and injure yourself so you can heal again, why don’t ya?” It was a sad day when you’re inner voice sounded a lot more Irish than you did…ten years in the States seemed to do that to you, apparently. His face remained blank, painfully so, almost like he was trying to hide something, and for Murphy who was extremely good at hiding things…well the fact that he was making it painfully obvious not to show what was going on inside his head was a harsh thing for him. Hopefully there wouldn’t be questions, or at least not too many of them, or if push came to shove questions that he could answer without really saying much.

They walked into the liquor store and Murphy watched her for a moment while she went to the back, raising a discreet eyebrow at the large bottle she was grabbing…not that he was much better. By the time he was making his way back up to the front his arms were laden with a twenty-four case of Guinness, a fifth of Irish whiskey, and twenty ounces of Baileys (which of course was reserved for his morning cup of coffee). Oh yeah, Murphy had a bit of an alcohol problem, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit it. “Are you…okay?” He looked at Cherie and then at the clerk, standing a few feet behind her and then forcing himself to look down at the alcohol in his arms; suddenly the back of the bottle of Bailey’s was looking extremely interesting. “I’m fine. Thank you.” From the corner of his eye Murphy watched as he leaned forward toward her and he felt the sudden urge to reach over and stab in the chest with a finger, telling him to back off. And while the action looked quite interesting in his head, he didn’t move an inch.

Cherie finished and suddenly left the store, leaving Murphy to blink after her for a moment before he set his things up on the counter for the man to ring up, and he was rather tempted to ask how he knew Cherie…or to get any information on the woman that he could. But it felt too much like snooping and he wasn’t entirely sure how this man knew her in the first place. The last thing he wanted was for her to get into any kind of trouble because of him…well…any more trouble than beating the hell out of that brute in the alleyway might cause. He made a note to try to deal with that before things got to serious, which of course meant hopefully getting back to him before he woke up and ran off. Murphy flopped his money on the counter and frowned a little when he realized that he wasn’t asked for his ID; way to make a man feel old! But oh well.

He walked out with his items, the case tucked neatly under his arm, and he was rather surprised that Cherie was actually standing out there. Not that he minded of course, but it was still mildly surprising. Sure, he wanted to ask about what had happened inside, but instead he just smiled, “so, is there where we have to say goodbye or is there a chance I’m going to get to escort you somewhere else?”

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 1-2-0-9 OUTFIT here NOTES the beginning is shit...

[cherie adele clauson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] [STYLE=background-color: #111111; padding-left:10px; padding-bottom:720px; margin-right:-2px;][STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 20px; margin-right: -20px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #61373e; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. murphy mcgreen OUTFIT here bitch WORDS. 1077 LYRICS. wish i stayed, sky ferreira SOUNDTRACK. without lies, sky ferreira NOTES. yah bitch, you have to read it all. [/style]

[STYLE=background-image: url('http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/2946/picture2b13.png'); padding-left:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-bottom:720px;] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #222023; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 8px; font-family: georgia; font-style:italic; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase;]CANT' YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW? ENDEAVOR TO[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #202020; color: #61373e; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]FREEFALL[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #61373e; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 380px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; border-bottom:10px solid #202020;]Chronic smoker; she noticed it as he lit a cigarette up and inhaled. Now she wasn’t a psychologist running diagnostics or anything, but she could help analyzing him a bit. As it went, she took on the little details of him. Now anyone who knew a smoker knew that the main reason for the habit was stress. That little nicotine fix that made everything feel okay again; made the world slow down just a little bit. Enough to let a person take a step back and see things in a more logical light. Murphy didn’t seem like the guy to be stressed at all. She found his energy easy and comforting to be around. Funny to say around someone you’ve only spent about an hour with, but it was nothing less than true. He was easy-going; cool, and his gentlemanly demeanor was refreshing in more ways that he could probably figure out on his own. She was getting comfortable with him –a little too comfortable than what was logically safe. But what was considered logical nowadays, especially in a world where people could defy the very laws of existence? Where someone’s evolution ( dare she say, like her own ) made them something that was completely ludicrous. People like her were those one would see in a movie theater, with popcorn and their best mate at their side. Yet here she was; existing. She knew she was different; she had always known that she was different. To think that there were more people like her –well it never crossed her mind to ever think so. It was slightly presumption on her terms, but not at all abnormal. It was the same kind of thinking that stopped an abused child from speaking out; an anorexic young girl from realizing that she wasn’t what she thought she looked like; a cutter from finding that suicide wasn’t the only way out. As it went to show, the situation had her thinking. Cherie wasn’t stupid; she had to act like it sometimes, but all in, she had an exceptional mind. She knew things and could have never been grasped by an average person without the proper schooling and she knew them on a high school diploma level. She was smart… more than smart… and if there was one thing she knew; it was that Murphy could not have followed her as quickly as he did and pin point her location within the allotted time that was given. Not in the time that actually took him to do it and that alone was what was bothering her the most. Not in a conspiring sort of way; but the thought was grating. She huffed, glancing up as Murphy emerged from the store with his bought items. The smile he gave her gave an inward tug and made her hurt a bit inside. She swallowed down the feeling and gave a small smile back as he came to stand beside her. “So, is there where we have to say goodbye or is there a chance I’m going to get to escort you somewhere else?” He asked her. The accent in his voice always brought a slight tickle to her chest whenever she heard it; she wanted to laugh. She liked his accent, as it defined him so well and gave his rugged appearance a slightly more comical look. Oh the lucky charms jokes she could pull up… if only just for fun. To imitate him in a teasing way or give him a list of words and sentences just to hear him say them all. The thought of it, when she said it like that, made her feel kind of weird and maybe a little cruel. Then again, she supposed that she had to inherit something from her father; or if not, learn it from her boyfriend. Talk about bad influence… Thinking for a bit, she realized that the longer she was around him, the more she crazed his company; like a child that had been deprived from the affection of her parents to be introduced into a new loving family. Or, you know…. Like a crazy crack addict who couldn’t get enough. You can choose between the two. She glanced down at the bottle, thinking of Ezekiel for a moment. He had been drunk off his ass when he had come home; who was to say that he wasn’t dead asleep by now? Maybe when he woke up, he’d have forgotten all about sending her to the store; it had happened before. The question was, did she want to risk it. Was staying with some random stranger worth the consequences that it may reap when she got home? Ah, but this was not just any random stranger; this was a stranger that had saved her life. She battled with herself for a moment, the decisions spinning around her head like the cartoon stars on a spazzed out character. It was making her damn dizzy herself. “Do you…. Want to go to the park with me?” She asked; her heart racing as her voice sounded out. At least she got it over with, and that eased her a bit; but now she felt like a child ditching school for the first time. She knew where she was supposed to be. “I-if you’re not going to be busy, that is…”

[/size] Oh god, she wanted to take it back and not say anything in the first place. Why not just ask him to walker her back, half-way home? That would have at least been the smarter compromise. A logical decision for the situation she was in. She had a boyfriend; she was in a gang. There were so many reasons for her not to be seen with another man out in the open and yet she paid no mind to any of them. Like the bruises she gained on the surface of her skin, the consequences were displayed to blind blue eyes that longs for something better than what she had.

Or maybe she was finally starting to get fed up and callous. What more could Ezekiel do to her that he hadn’t done already? He could kill her; but that would have been more of a grace than he was willing to give. There was nothing left for her to lose and she knew it. She wanted a life; a real life and this was the start of her reaching out to grasp for it.
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[murphy fallon mcgreen]

SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE

THAT KEEPS MY FAITH ALIVE WHEN ALL YOU CAN DO IS HIDE FROM THE FEAR THAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Murphy almost reached into his pockets to grab another cigarette, just out of the pure habit of it; he walked out of a building and immediately there was a cigarette hanging between his lips, but in all reality smoking and talking was always a difficult thing to do. More often than not you always ended up forgetting to do one or the other and the next thing you knew you either had a huffy conversation partner (not that he thought Cherie would get huffy with him) or a wasted cigarette…and those fuckers were too damn expensive to just let burn out. Besides, it’s not like he needed the cancer inducing stick right at the moment, it was just habit. He probably could have quit if he had actually wanted too; yeah, he was addicted, but no, he didn’t smoke24/7 out of stress. Hell, if he only smoked when he was stressed anymore then he’d probably be down to a pack a month.

Smoking, for Murphy, was pure habit, just like drinking.

It wasn’t something that he could get use to though, he realized as he stood next to Cherie without the cigarette. Just because he didn’t have to smoke didn’t mean he didn’t need to smoke, and while that wouldn’t make sense to ninety percent of the other people out there in the world, it made sense to him and that was all that mattered. So why was he still resisting the urge to reach into his pocket and pull that half he had yet to finish? He watched her, half out of the corner of his eye and yet still facing her, and looked down at the bottle in her hands, thinking for possibly the tenth time already that there was no way that was for her, which only made him wonder if he was about to get told to go away…of course in a much nicer way. “Go away” seemed like such a snobby and bitchy way to go about it, which were two words that he couldn’t even put in the same sentence as Cherie, especially not if he had to give a description of her right away.

And then he was given a pleasant surprise when she gave him the answer he had been hoping for. Or at least generally speaking since he wasn’t psychic or anything. Psychotic? Maybe. “Do you…want to go to the park with me?” A light grin pulled on the corners of his lips and he was going to answer when she started again, “i-if you’re not going to be busy, that is…” Busy? Murphy? Not for another few hours, and even then, he wouldn’t mind ditching the Russians if this girl asked him too…and dropping the Russian business partners was never a bright idea. Not the stupidest thing he had ever done (that was reserved for joining and then killing half the Irish mob in Dublin), but it still wasn’t a great move. He doubted their day would be taking them quite that far into the evening though and Murphy shook his head, “I don’t have any other plans for the day. I think the park sounds nice,” he answered lightly.

Shit…grocery shopping. He pushed the thought away as they started forward, deciding that there were plenty of stores open later in the evening, of course he was assuming they were going to be spending hours at the park instead of a shorter amount of time. But that was how his brain worked. When unexpected plans came up, Murphy always ended up assuming they would go on longer than they most likely would; he didn’t know exactly why, but his excuse was so that he could give himself time to reschedule the rest of his plans. You know, those plans that he just said that he didn’t have? Besides, it wasn’t like Ceres didn’t have any food, so she could at least go another day. And Murphy? It wouldn’t be the first time he ended up eating Chinese takeout on his couch. His eyes glanced back down at the bottle in her hands again, “did you want to drop that off beforehand…?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that and then he looked back at his own paper bag, “or you could put it in my bag…” Was it just him or was he sounding awkward? Was Murphy McGreen actually having a little difficulty talking? And to a woman? Well shit, there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?

The thought almost brought a smile to his face, but there was nothing creepier than someone (especially a man), smiling for no reason while walking down the street, and so he bit down on his cheek to stop himself.

TAGGED cherie! WORDS 787 OUTFIT here NOTES ...it's a little...odd. Kind of pushed for the word count a bit