you know how to save me

[cathleen abigail fitzpatrick]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 200px; padding: 15px; border-top: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; border-bottom: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; background: #f2f2f2;][STYLE= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://oi46.tinypic.com/20ady7q.jpg); border: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; margin-top: -25px;][/style][STYLE= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://oi47.tinypic.com/2qunjg7.jpg); border: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; margin-left: 05px; margin-top: -25px;][/style][STYLE= color: #96abc8; font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; margin-top: 10px; float: left; width: 235px; text-transform: uppercase;]❝ my body needs a hero come and save me — ❞[/style][STYLE= float: left; background: #fcfcfc; width: 225px; font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #9caab6; padding: 10px; border-top: #c9d2d8 10px solid;]The air was heavy and thick with sweat, and Cathleen’s hair stuck to the back of her neck as she moved around the dance floor, a tray of drinks held high and balance precariously on her splayed out fingers. She thanked the heavens for the millionth time that her waitressing uniform—a black bandage mini and a tucked in white tank top—were made of thin breathable cotton. She set gracefully set down drinks at tables along the side of the club without pausing to listen to the sleazy catcalls and attempts to reach out to her from drunken bros looking for a good time. Cath knew all about frat boys looking to one up each other with the hot waitress, and married business men from out of town looking for a good night. There had been a time that Cath might have appreciated the attention, and maybe even flirted back, but not any more. She had too much on her mind to mess around with men who wouldn’t be complete animals towards her. Just as she was passing a back hallway, Cath’s stomach dropped as a hand shot out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her behind the curtain. A string of swears came tall girl as she turned, her hand coming back to attach whoever had pulled her aside. The air left her lungs in a relieved sigh, her shoulders dropping as she realized it was just her boss. ”Jesus Chris, you tryin’a kill me?” She sucked in a breath and held her tray up to her chest, knowing that it was bad news if she was getting pulled aside like this. ”Look Cath, I’m sorry. We’re slow tonight and have too many waitresses. You have the most hours as it is, so I need you to clock out okay?” Cath opened her mouth to argue, but had a change of heart—it was useless. She nodded mutely and walked downstairs to clock out. She covered her forehead with a hand, mentally trying to figure out how the hell she was going to pay off next week’s electric bill with four less hours on her dock. She would have to find a way to get the cash somewhere else. At least she had a week to figure it out, which was more than she’d had in the past to raise a couple hundred dollars. There was no point in going home right now. It would only mean stress and more worries, when the best part of work was being able to get away from it all. Instead, she pulled off her white tank top and threw on a looser top over the bandage skirt and headed back upstairs. The only thing left to do was let off a little steam before heading back to the madhouse. It was around midnight, and the club wasn’t packed, exactly the way Cath liked it. The young woman didn’t really care that she didn’t know anyone there, all she wanted to do was get wasted and dance. There were perks to working at a nightclub; it was pretty easy to get free drinks from the bartender. Cath pounded back three shots in a quick succession then headed to the dance floor. She closed her eyes, arms slinking above her head as she swayed to the blood-pumping beat of the music. After a few minutes of being lost in the music, the alcohol slowly coming to her head, Cathleen felt stong hands on her waist. She smiled, keeping her eyes closed and parting her lips at the delicious feeling of another body moving against hers. The brunette rolled her hips firmly against the body behind her, and pressed her back against the masculine chest behind her and brought her hands up to rest against the hair at the nape of his neck. She turned slowly, leaning back to look up at who she was dancing with, giving him a slow smile. [/style]

[STYLE= font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px;]MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖[/style]

[dimitry alexei kalinkov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true] . dimitry was an overworked man. he was completely exhausted. he needed a break. and that was exactly his plan as he opened his front door and stumbled out of his rather joke of an apartment. living here in america was tough. but it was alot better than back home. where there he would have been arrested and would have spent the rest of his life, rotting in denial, until he would join up some prison mafia and die by means of a prison riot. he shook his head out of his day dream and slumped himself down the stairs and onto the parking lot. when he did find his patrol car and started it up. police chatter was ongoing, but he was off duty and was in no mood for heroics tonight. once he got out of the lot he flipped his radio off, sighing intently as he looked for something to ease the tension. he rolled down the main road, until he found himself pulling into a night club. he hadn't been to one since the last day of him being in russia. but he made is way through the line, getting treated rather nicely by security, maybe it was the fact that his reputation preceded him. he only shrugged at the thought of people being nice to cops here. in russia, cops would get killed, paid off and treated like trash. why did he decide to become one, he did not know. as he slid through to the bar, he had ordered himself quite a few shots. and after about maybe five he had begun to get actually buzzed, american vodka was weak. he made himself onto the dance floor, not really paying attention, but he looked down to find himself behind a gal, sure he was a nice guy now, but the instincts of his old life were still there, and with that thought, he got a chance to wrap his hands around her skinny waist. she answered back with herself pressing onto him, he wasn't in uniform, it would look absolutely stupid if he was. he was only wearing a plain collared shirt and some jeans, simple. she cast him a small smile and he smiled back, his mind a bit foggy. but his voice made an attempt, his accent almost thicker than the smell of drinks. "hey there cutie." words; 628 music; calabria / enur notes; ughh he sucks at approaches -.-

[cathleen abigail fitzpatrick]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 200px; padding: 15px; border-top: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; border-bottom: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; background: #f2f2f2;][STYLE= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://oi46.tinypic.com/20ady7q.jpg); border: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; margin-top: -25px;][/style][STYLE= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://oi47.tinypic.com/2qunjg7.jpg); border: #c9d2d8 solid 10px; margin-left: 05px; margin-top: -25px;][/style][STYLE= color: #96abc8; font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; margin-top: 10px; float: left; width: 235px; text-transform: uppercase;]❝ my body needs a hero come and save me — ❞[/style][STYLE= float: left; background: #fcfcfc; width: 225px; font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #9caab6; padding: 10px; border-top: #c9d2d8 10px solid;] Cath just felt like she wanted to forget everything and everyone. The money, the kids, all the things that had to be done when she got home. She didn’t want to think about the bills that needed paying or the cops banging on her door, or the fact that her dad hadn’t stumbled into the house in over four days. Instead, she lost herself in the music, in paying attention to every beat, her limbs swaying effortlessly. She was in this club most nights—moving to the music became instinct, as easy as sashaying past the private booths or popping champagne in VIP. She was used to the attention of other men—after all, she was tall with an innocent face and decent curves. Unfortunately it always came from the wrong guys; guys who wanted to “save” her, to rescue her from her life as the unwilling head of the Fitzpatrick clan. The last thing Cathleen wanted was sympathy or pity, or a hero. Really, she didn’t want much at all. A little bit of fun, here and there. She couldn’t do a relationship, couldn’t pull another human being into the complicated chaos that was her life. She didn’t have the energy to care about the emotional needs of another human being. When Cath turned, she was surprised to recognize the face that flashed in the probing lights, and gave him a slow smile. She didn’t know his name, but Cathleen made it part of her routine to become familiar with the cops that supervised her district. She tried to know who would come pounding on her door at six am because her dad had been found unconscious in the snow. She liked to know who was chasing down her brothers when they got caught jumping the turnstiles on the subway, or stealing fruit from the summer farmer’s markets. Some of the cops in the area had a soft spot for their family, while others seemed determined to make them pay for all the ruckus they caused in the Ocean City ghettos. That was why it was so important to scope unfamiliar patrollers. She wasn’t sure how long the blue-eyed man had been in Ocean City—he seemed to keep a low profile, and none of her gossipy friends knew anything other then that he was foreign and didn’t have many ties here. Shockingly they hadn’t crossed paths yet, but he probably would recognize her surname if he heard it. The police liked to complain amongst each other about the Fitzpatrick family almost as much as they complained about gangs. Fortunately for Cath, the clan was nothing if not clever and even the youngest managed to wiggle their way out of trouble pretty well. In any case, the current scenario was intriguing. Cath usually didn’t like to get too close to cops—she knew that it was a bad idea—but here was a chance to get a little more info on one of the few cops that alluded her research. She didn’t stop dancing, leaning back and rolling her hips forward as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes were heavy lidded from a lethal combination of exhaustion and alcohol—even all dolled up it was obvious that Cathleen was someone who spent her life working hard and taking a lot of pain. How she kept up pleasant appearances was something even she couldn’t explain. ”Well hey officer, I hope I’m not in trouble...” She gave him a smirk and batted her eyelashes teasingly. Right now she needed to approach carefully—she didn’t want to scare him away or piss him off. Some cops didn’t like their work being brought up off hours, especially when they were out trying to have a good time. Hopefully her flirty tone stopped any resentment at the reference. ”I promise I’ve been good lately.” [/style]

[STYLE= font-family: franklin gothic medium, arial narrow; font-size: 10px;]MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖[/style]

[dimitry alexei kalinkov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true] . dimitry didn't have the easiest life on his hands, he had a life to deal with, actually it was still on going. he needed to pull himself out of this hole that he was in. this regretful hole he had. he needed somebody, or something to pull him out of this spiraling depression, or sadness rather, he wasn't depressed yet. but he was only this way because he regrets his actions. sure he's killed a man, quite plenty actually. but he needed to drag himself out of this state of uselessness. sure he had a job and was fighting the very crime he used to help commit. when she turned around, she didn't look familiar, then again he was usually sent in only for the big situations, as he was also on the swat team, but only as a substitute, which was a rare occasion, other than that he was always pulling over speeding teenagers and other monotonous stops. he really needed a life upgrade. but that was beside the point. she looked dead tired, and he wondered how she was still keeping herself upright, sure it takes alot, but she looked like shes was about to keel over and fall. but when she spoke the tone of voice reminded him never to make assumptions, she was flirting with him, and the way she did it felt like she was experienced. he could only laugh and reply back "ill have to check my reports for miss...?" he gave her a small smile as she tried to play him off, he wasn't really easy to convince, but then again, he was buzzed, but that shouldn't be a problem, he was russian. he can handle it. considering the fact she knew he was an officer was a bit scary, but then again, there were those people. she had this tone that she knew him, but he didn't know her, but she reminded him of some family that his office was always on the ropes about. Fitzpatricks or something. he didn't think anything of them yet, he had yet to come across them, but word around the coffee machine is that they are one crazy bunch. "oh i wouldn't doubt that." he said with a sly grin, poking at her, he wanted to see how faded she was, not like he'd take advantage of that, or he was just trying to convince himself that she wasn't a Fitzpatrick, not like he cared really. words; 635 music; 212 notes; ----