we're gonna make it all right (open)

[hannah4]

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open! * 716 * outfit * nickelback * temp/imgs me * someone snag! it'llgetbetter
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It occurred to Greg that evening that he spent too much time dancing. He never thought he'd be able to say that, but it turned out he agreed with the voice inside his head. Sure he moved out before high school so he could pursue dance, but he really hadn't been doing much else for ten years. His life had revolved around dancing and continued to do so. He was all the time thinking about all the kids he was teaching, about all the routines he had to think up for them to keep their mommies happy with what he was doing. Of course they were all sort of leery bringing their children to take dance lessons from a twenty-five year old boy who didn't look the slightest bit gay, but honestly, Greg didn't think that way about kids who were between five and eleven. Really? What kind of sick messed up bastard did for crying out loud? Thinking about what other people thought about him usually got him pissed, and he really didn't need that right now. Or ever. Greg was a fairly stress-free person considering he did what he loved for twelve hours a day and went home to his sometimes-empty apartment to crash. On the off occasion his sister decided to invade with her billion and a half (like, three) friends. He never minded, it was nice company. He loved all her friends.

This was Greg's night off, and for the first time in a couple months he was taking it for himself. He usually took his night off to take a class or to work on his own dance skills, but tonight he was parking his motorbike outside Monastery. With any luck, he'd be too drunk to drive back home. The only problem was, that when Greg went to clubs he never drank because he just danced. He had a couple beers and headed to the dance floor, getting sucked in like a mosquito to a street light. He couldn't really help it; he was just passionate about what he loved. Really there weren't many things that Greg loved. His sisters, yes. Dancing, yes. His couch, yes. But that was about the extent of it. He swung his leg over his bike and slid his helmet off. He hung it on the handlebars, and ran both hands roughly through his hair to get it to stand up instead of laying flat like it did under the helmet. It was cropped short enough it stood up but didn't look really dumb. Greg was extremely self confident, even when he didn't put all that much effort into his appearance. The line to get in was somewhat problematic, but moved quickly. He respected that he wasn't important enough to bypass people, though in his own mind he hated standing there. He'd tried bypassing it enough to realize it only took longer. He was impatient, but he wasn't stupid.

Once inside, he headed to the bar, knowing he had to drink all he wanted before he started dancing. He ordered a Heineken, then another. No he didn't have a problem with alcohol, but he was like very other twenty-five year old guy. He could appreciate a beer and a night on the town. He tapped his heel against the floor to the beat of the music, and he found himself moving a little in his chair. He grinned to himself as he took a drink. "Stop it." He couldn't help it. Music was like fluid to his body, like vital substance more important than air. He could dance a Capella, but music made the package complete. For Greg, dancing was making music come alive, make it seem like a tangible thing for someone who had never experienced that before. He poured his heart and soul into it every time his feet touched the floor, so it was only natural that he couldn't even escape if for very long. He finished his beer, just being able to feel the bubbles under his skin. He'd had just enough to bring back that tireless energy he had when he was on the stage. He shot up from the bar stool and he stood up right when someone was passing by. He knocked into them pretty hard. He whipped around. "My bad."

[didge]

"HE'S NO WHERE TO BE SEEN." Indeed, Bridget had lost her friend and band mate in the Monastery. They had actually been in the middle of a drinking game in the VIP lounge when they ended up losing each other. Not that he would have minded considering he was having the time of his life but for Bridget, this was one of her worst nightmares - although not as bad as the nightmare she had about being a target for an evil knife-throwing clown. Nonetheless, being alone in a place that was unfamiliar terrain made her feel scared and intimidated. A girl like Bridget didn't even belong in the Monastery, let alone any nightclub, but here she was thinking it'd be an alright place for after-gig drinks. The idea wasn't even her's to begin with, but now she found herself sitting in a toilet cubicle in the ladies' bathroom with her phone glued to her ear. She resorted to calling her older sister seeing as she found herself stuck in this situation. No longer could she go out into the crowd without wanting to withdraw back into the bathroom.

With her head down, she stared at her two feet which donned a pair of black heels with straps at the ankles. She tapped them together like Dorothy tapped her ruby slippers, doing so absentmindedly while listening to her sister telling her to just get out of the bathrooms and search at the bar. Perhaps he was still there. "You're right." She finally settled on getting out there and stood up, unlocking the cubicle door and and opening it, only to find that there was a long line waiting. With the phone still attached to her, she made her way over to the basins and washed her hands so not to look like a grub despite not even doing anything. "If I don't find him I'm just going to get a taxi and go home." And with that she dried her hands and stumbled ( she was a slightly tipsy ) as she made her way out.

She was greeted by darkness which made way for the club lights, as well as her ears which had met such loud music. She started yelling into her phone again, "I'M GOING TO HANG UP NOW, BYE." Her pitch of tone in her usually monotoned voice went up to accommodate the level that she was talking at... which was loud. Then, she headed for the bar in search for her drunken band mate. She swore to herself that she was going to stab him once she found him for making her go through this loud, unpleasant atmosphere which could give her claustrophobia. It was fortunate that she wasn't claustrophobic however, but at the same time she wished she was for she wouldn't have agreed to come here in the first place. She was in serious need of a cheering up, or a slap on the back to loosen her senses and stop her from feeling uptight.

Maybe she could try and text Jay once more and instead of asking where he was, she could tell him to meet her at the bar. "That's right you snovabitch, you better get this text." She said to herself. And as she touched the text message button on her iPhone, she felt a heavy weight violently pushing her aside, "Ah!" Her phone slipped from her hands and onto the floor, hiding in between a sea of stilettos and other shoes. Everything had happened so suddenly that she quickly composed herself and said, "I'm cool," before noticing that something was missing from her hands. She threw her hands up in exasperation and looked up at the male, "Great, now my phone's lost having joined the party on the dance floor." That was two things she had to look for in the club now.

oh hai. this thread here is tagged for greggles / hannie, is currently completed, and the word count is 640. i'm gonna take credit for the image & template, and the lyrics go to drew sidora. lastly i have to say, i hope you don't mind. you said you wanted to come back to a reply so i replied! plus i'm flowing with bridget!muse hence why i replied with her.

[hannah4]

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bridget * 513 * outfit * nickelback * temp/imgs me * fuckthisisbad.
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Greg eyed the brunette he'd just bumped into, and raised a brow at her obvious drunkenness. Usually he'd take advantage of this situation, snatch up the opportunity like a piranha at a buffet. But he had to remind himself he was sort of "on" with Desiree at the moment, and he couldn't just go all willy nilly with some girl at a bar. Of course by next week, Des will have moved out and he would be a single guy again free to pounce ladies as he pleased. But nonetheless, he felt a little guilty for bumping into her, and apparently making her lose something. He chuckled a little at her attempt at re composure. "You sure?" he asked as he helped steady her by her elbow. Greg really hadn't seen an ungraceful day. Being a dancer by nature he could recover from trips or bumps without the slightest bit of disgrace. He had incredible balance, but he had to remind himself most people didn't live that way, and jolts often uprooted them from the ground.

He jumped a little and raised a brow when she threw her hands into the air. Greg's eyes dropped to the ground as she stated that's where her phone was. Luckily he caught a glimpse of it as it lit up between a pair of very pointy stilettos. He politely meshed his way into the group of people to bend down and retrieve the phone he'd apparently made her lose. As he picked it up he noticed she'd just received a text message. He chuckled at the luckiness of it, considering without it he never would have found it. "I'm assuming this is yours.. and you have a text," he said informatively as he handed it back after brushing the dust off it. He chuckled again, watching her drunken state. She was cute, that was for sure. Wait, Greg, you're taken. Sometimes he swore he needed blinders. But admitting she was cute wasn't bad, not that he would really lose a night's sleep if he cheated on Desiree. However, being in a relationship was still being in a relationship and deserved some sort of respect which he guessed he had to give.

"How can I make it up to you, sweetheart?

[/color]" he asked with a charming smile that he knew wouldn't matter, considering she was pretty tipsy. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe she was just a bubbly person by nature? A little of both was what Greg decided. Now usually he wasn't as noble as to ask how he could help some random girl in the bar, but his heart sort of went out to this girl who seemed beyond exasperated and flustered. He had to admit it was sort of entertaining though, watching her act like that. Desiree never acted that way, and he couldn't help but think tipsy girls were all pretty cute. When they'd had just enough alcohol to make them lose a little judgment but not enough to make them throw up. It was like catching a watermelon when it's ripe; bliss.[/justify][/size][/blockquote]

[didge]

The night as a whole wasn't going as well as she'd anticipated. At the beginning of the night, she had hopes that she and her band mate would enjoy just sitting at the lounge and laughing about incomprehensible subjects. Sure, there'd be a little dancing later on, even though Didge couldn't dance when she wasn't performing. She could sway and jump around, but the whole pop and lock or how ever club goers danced these days was something she couldn't do even if her life depended on it. So what was supposed to be a nice, relaxing and fun night turned out to be a little bit horrendous ( that was a little exaggerated ), and left Didge in the club alone, frantic and a little bit drunk. And it was all because of that drinking game - they'd take a shot every time a stranger called Didge by one of the characters she portrayed in her acting days. It began with "Summer Finn", then she was called "DG" and even "Ms. Edmunds". While she had the nerve to tell them off, she let it go, knowing it was part of the game plus she didn't want to give a fuck dealing with stupid people who couldn't tell the difference between a character and an actor.

Being someone who hardly drank on social occasions, the girl was quite weak when it came to digesting alcoholic substances. It rather easy for her to succumb to the effects of it in fact, such as her inability to keep as balanced as she usually was. Thank goodness that the cause of her falling also helped her steady herself. She noticed he had held onto her elbow as he questioned her about her current condition on her steadiness, "Why? Do I look like I'm not?" She asked with a quizzical look on her face and one of shock as well - maybe she didn't look alright to other people as she thought she did. But she made sure she was as she brushed down an invisible crease in her black dress and stood up straight, however, swaying to the side slightly.

The next thing she knew, the guy had disappeared into the crowd in the same direction her phone flew. He couldn't have found it could he? Or maybe he was just walking away. Bridge thought about his intentions of walking off, until she watched him pick up a light on the floor. It was then that she realised that he indeed, found her phone and was off to grab it before feet could kick it away. She pondered on the stranger's kindness, particularly because she was never exposed to such thing in a night club, or even just a bar. All feeling of exasperation ceased once he handed back her phone and mentioned that she'd received a text message. She immediately opened it, seeing it was from Jay - that drunk bastard - but was disappointed to see that all it said was, "DIUDGEEEE, I' WAIJSTEDDDFJ." Bridge groaned to express her anxiety over the whole situation before looking back up at the stranger, "Thanks for finding it. I don't think I need it anymore though, seeing as I'm only getting drunk texts."

It was a little surprising to see that he was suggesting on paying her back. "Risking your hand in a sea of daggers to find this thing wasn't pay back enough huh?" Hey, with a guy who had that sort of smile, she had to use this to her advantage. "That's totally cool because actually, I'm looking for someone. You might have seen him? He's got dark hair, smallish kind of eyes, scrawny for his height, dimples with a little bit of stubble?" She clicked her tongue as she quickly glanced around them, "Oh, and he's wasted." Words couldn't describe the way she was going to scold him for leaving her and she wouldn't care if he was having fun or not. Before the guy could question why she was searching for this male she added, "I have to kill him for leaving me alone in a night club of all places!" Plus they had to catch a plane the next day to Chicago for Lollapalooza and rehearse with the band in advance for their performance scheduled on the first day. Well, that wasn't going to happen at this rate.

oh hai. this thread here is tagged for greggles / hannie, is currently completed, and the word count is 726. i'm gonna take credit for the image & template, and the lyrics go to drew sidora. lastly i have to say, pshh! no it wasn't!