Peach Cocaine

With the back of her hand, Casey wipes off a smear of blood from her face. Not her blood, thankfully, but someone else who had taken a swing at her and politely received a fist to the face by Caleb, smashing the owner’s nose to bits. She quickly, and carefully, backs away from the circle pit and makes her way to an abandoned table and sits down.

Casey is covered in sweat, feeling greasy and disgusting, and absolutely loving every minute of it.

She stares wide eyed at all the fish mish-mashed together, smoking and drinking, some running toward the bathroom to puke their ever loving guts out. The haziness of the room makes her feel woozy and she takes a deep breath. No, she isn’t a hardcore mosher, but she does love watching them all beat on each other mindlessly, because the music has gotten them riled up. Plus, it’s the only place you can get away with busting someones face open.

A soft touch on her shoulder startles her and she turns to be greeted with a tall creature that’s as pale as a ghost and with dark splotchy things on his arms.

Vampire, no way, Casey silently clucks to herself.

“May I sit here?” The Creature Fish asks. The dim lighting and smokiness make it difficult for her to see his features clearly, but she nods toward the open seat anyway.

Casey refuses to look at the man and squints obtrusively at the lead singer pogo-ing and dancing spasmodically on the slimy, beer bottle ridden stage. Over the intensity of the music, Creature Fish speaks up loudly, asking, “I’m looking for someone, maybe you know her? She has short red hair and glasses.”

Casey froze and slowly drug her gaze on the man before her, and this definitely isn’t Pale Fish now that she has taken a careful look at him. He has short dark hair and large gauges in his ears, his face is soft looking, similar to a little boys. When he smiles, dimples bloom like flowers on his cheeks and the dark splotches, well they’re simple tattoos on his arms but definitely not a whole jungle of them like Pale Fish had.

“So you are her! Cashier Girl!” New nickname, Asshole Fish. Casey’s face drops and a look of annoyance spreads on her countenance. “Woah, hey, I didn’t mean anything by that, it’s just, my friend has been looking for you for some time, but he couldn’t remember what store he’d met you at, or your name.”

She gives him a receding look, and disbelief blossoms in her mind. Why would Pale Fish be looking for her?

“I’m Matt, Matt Nicholls,” Asshole Fish, now reverted back to Creature Fish, sticks out a hand across the table and Casey takes it, noting how hot his palms are but oddly not sweating.

“I’m… I’m Casey Wolton,” She replies.