Ana-Lucia Cortez
new oceanic 815.
Everyday, everyday Houses full of no escape, no escape Runaway, runaway
Posts: 153
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Post by Ana-Lucia Cortez on Jun 19, 2008 23:31:51 GMT -5
There was a dull throbbing starting in the back of her eyes, slowly trickling it's way to the back of her skull and she tried to ignore it as she also stood. Rubbing at her temple with her one hand, she nodded. "Yeah..." she began, as she saw him reach into his pocket. Genuine gesture of checking his pockets for pocket change. "Go down the hall past the bathrooms, turn left and it should be on a table. Don't worry it's not a pay phone." Or it wasn't yet, hadn't had a chance to think about installing one because rarely anyone asked to use it these days. Cellphones seemed to replace them and well paying extra for one of those phones? Well, monetarily it didn't make sense.
"Can you make it down there yourself?" Ana then queried, her brow raising slightly. Though, he seemed somewhat ... unsober enough to just make it by himself. Other then tripping over his own damn feet, he seemed okay to stand and walk on his own, not a complete messy drunk like ninety-nine percent of everyone that left here.
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Jun 19, 2008 23:50:31 GMT -5
Back on his feet, Sawyer steadied himself with one hand against the wall for a moment. This couldn’t be happening. Although she sounded much more pleasant toward him than she ever had on the Island, her voice still sounded the same. Hell, she seemed down right concerned. Of course, he probably was making an ass of himself, but... it wasn’t every day you end up getting served drinks by a dead person.
“Down tha hall, to tha left. Got it,” Sawyer repeated, finally tearing his eyes away from her and looking in the direction she was pointing. Good, far out of sight and earshot of everyone there, especially her. “I can make it. Besides, looks like Heckle and Jeckle over there need more drinks.”
Gesturing to the two men at the bar, the southerner sidestepped Ana-Lucia awkwardly before moving as quickly as he could down the hallway. Rounding the corning, her could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he stared at the single phone on the table. Now what? Who the hell was he supposed to call in a situation like this? Despite everything, despite their differences and their rivalry there was really only one person that came to mine.
Bringing the receiver up to his ear, Sawyer shakily dialled the number of the Roosevelt Hotel.
“Gimme Do- ... gimme Jack Shephard’s room.”
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Jun 20, 2008 0:06:46 GMT -5
Phones. Phones didn't ring on the Island.
Jack could still smell the crisp ocean air, and yet, as Jack's eyes snapped open, he saw the dark ceiling instead of the bright blue of the Island sky. The phone's ringer peirced through his headache-filled brain. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them, bringing a hand up to press against his forehead. The other hand moved, grabbing the telephone reciver. "Yeah, hello?" he asked, his voice tired and very hung over, his voice gruff and still sleep-filled. He reached to the side of him, reaching for one of the small bottles of Vodka. He uncapped it and moved, taking a swig, letting a breath out in a sigh. He heard the laughing and sounds of what Jack figured had to be a bar, and his brows narrowed slightly. "Look, if this is some reporter, I have no comment, alright? I'm hanging up..."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Jun 20, 2008 0:12:49 GMT -5
Hearing Jack’s gruff and tired voice answer, it was only then that Sawyer stopped to think about what he was going to say. How could he possibly explain this? How was he going to get Jack, or anyone for that matter, believe that Ana-Lucia was alive and well and right there in LA when they had all seen her body put in the ground back on the Island? The obvious answer, of course, was simple: he just wouldn’t tell him.
“Jack, wait!” Sawyer protested as Jack threatened to hang up, the southerner obviously having taken too long to reply. “Look, I... I need ya ta come down ta tha bar down that street. Tha Stone Poney.”
He could play nice, at least for now.
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Jun 20, 2008 0:27:42 GMT -5
Jack winced as Sawyer seemed to scream over the phone. "Jesus Christ, Sawyer, I've got a headache." Jack told him, and then frowned slightly as he heard Sawyer's plea. Jack scoffed loudly, and moved to run a hand through his short hair. "Sawyer, I am hung over. I'm--I'm beyond hung over and--" He paused for a moment, and actually thought about going to the bar. Hair of the dog, his father had always said, however, it was the sound of Sawyer's voice that made Jack wonder why exactly he wanted to come to the Stone Pony.
"And even if I wanted to drink again, I'm not feeling like going out. So just--just drink two for me and I'll talk to you later." He didn't even want to think about what happened to Claire. What had they done? He didn't want to tell Sawyer, was it out of fear? Embarrisment? He wasn't sure. Jack completely and utterly didn't feel like conversating with Sawyer at all. He did, however, feel like another drink. He finished off the small bottle, and tossed it to the side of the bed. "And besides, there's a bar right in the lobby. It's closer."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Jun 20, 2008 9:02:17 GMT -5
Should have known this wasn’t going to be that easy. Jack was stubborn as a mule, a fitting comparison considering he was also a big an ass as any, and he wasn’t just going to get up and go somewhere just because someone asked him to, especially if that someone was Sawyer. If it was Kate calling he’d be there in seconds, no questions asked.
Damn it, this had him so screwed up he couldn’t even enjoy the fact that Saint Jack was painfully hung over.
“I know there’s a bar in tha hotel,” the southerner scoffed, rolling his eyes. They’d only drank there together the first night and been living in that place for a week now. “There’s just... somethin’ ya gotta see at this one.”
He was not pleading a good case and he knew it. The alcohol was clouding his brain, and along with what he had saw he couldn’t even think up a bad lie that might get the doctor down here. Couldn’t even think up a good con.
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Jun 21, 2008 15:30:00 GMT -5
Jack felt a groan escape his lips, and he laid back the bed, closing his eyes as he listened to Sawyer try to weakly explain his reasoning that Jack should get up, go out and walk down the street, when in fact Jack wasn't even sure he could stand, let alone walk. "Sawyer," he said through a sigh, and then he shook his head. "No. Whatever--whatever plan you've conned up in your brain, you can just save it. You're drunk. So why don't you tell me what's so special that I need to see, and then I'll decide if I want to come, alright? What's happening at the Stone Pony? And if you say it's a blonde with big tits, I'm hanging up right now."
Why did Sawyer call him? Why hadn't he called Kate? Of course, if it was because of a woman, Jack knew Sawyer'd probably try to call him to get his eyes away from Kate, because that's what they both did to each other. They danced around the fact that there was an elephant with brown hair and peircing eyes in the room, and they both wanted her.
But there was a sound in Sawyer's voice that made Jack wonder why he hadn't called Kate. He sounded worried. Confused. Of course, Alcohol could produce these sounds easily in someone's brain...but still...
He almost started to mention Kate and the fact that she was tied up with Aaron, but then Jack realised that it would make Sawyer wonder where Claire was. And Jack wasn't ready to jump off that bridge yet. The only person who knew was Sun, and Jack had made her swear that she wouldn't tell the others. Not yet.
Bringing a hand up, he rubbed the spot in between his eyebrows where the pounding was the most serious. "So, tell me why you want me to make a trip all the way down to a bar when I've got plenty of alcohol here to consume?"
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Jun 23, 2008 11:40:44 GMT -5
Damn, he should have just called Hurley. At least the big man would have listened. But no, Hurley was the last person he could call. Of all the people on the Island, Hugo had probably lost the most. The last thing he needed was some possible false hope that death just wasn’t always permanent.
Death not permanent? Now he was just thinking crazy. There had to be something else going on. He had to be seeing things... and hearing things and feeling things and... alright, maybe he was just going plain crazy. Maybe she had drugged him, slipped something in the bottle before handing it over. There had to be some explanation. He just needed a second opinion, but damn Jack for being so logical even when he was hung over.
Screw subtle.
“Dammit, Doc, I’m seein’ dead people, alright?” Sawyer half shouted. Good thing the phone was isolated from the main room of the bar. “Now get yer ass down here.”
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Jun 26, 2008 17:07:28 GMT -5
Jack had to scoff.
Did Sawyer just say he was seeing dead people? "Look, James, you're drunk, okay? You see alot of things when you're drunk." Jack told him, and then shook his head. "Look, Sawyer, the only thing that'll happen if I come down there is I'll see someone that you think is a dead person, and you'll swear to me up and down that she's dead. And then I'll have to drag your sorry ass back to the hotel, and although the temptation of seeing you make a complete ass of yourself is high right now, I'm just not in the mood. So why don't you just call it a--" Jack paused, was it night? Was it day? He had positively no clue.
"Just call it quittin' time and come back to the Roosevelt before you end up in the hospital." He didn't think Sawyer would be able to drive home...and where would he get the car anyway? Unless he stole one, which now that he thought of it, Jack wouldn't put it past him. "Just stumble back here, and if you're still insisting, we'll talk about it."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Jun 26, 2008 19:23:22 GMT -5
James. Damn it, hearing that name from Jack’s lips only seemed to spurn Sawyer’s anger on. He hated that they all knew now, that they all knew how shitty his life had been, and that they all thought they knew who he was.
The doctor thought he was so damn smart, trying to talk logical sense into an obviously distraught and drunk person. Didn’t he get that this was exactly why Sawyer had chosen to call him? He needed someone to either confirm he was seeing what he was seeing, or call him crazy, and for some reason the person he’d believe either way was Jack. Too bad the bastard wasn’t biting.
“Ya know what? Just forget it, Jackass,” the conman growled into the phone. This was getting him nowhere fast. “I’ll tell Ana-Lucia ya said hi.”
With that he slammed down the receiver. Now what?
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