Neon Pompadours & Damsels in Distress

[Bambi!!]

»»-------------¤-------------««
​

The phone vibrated on the table with voice mails and missed calls while Annabel sat by it with her head in her hands. It had been three days since the winner was announced. Three days since her face appeared on every possible screen in the city, surrounded by vibrant colors and eye-catching text. She had won.

Her brain was still struggling to wrap around the insane amount of money now in her possession. She decided to shut herself out from the world for a while, but that didn't stop anyone from attempting to contact her. Phone calls, emails, letters (who sent those anymore?), and even strangers coming to her door. How did these people find her? What did they want from her?

Annabel was in distress.

She couldn't say she was unhappy about the situation, but it was certainly highly distressing. Working at a shop on a street corner and living in a small apartment alone, the girl lived a quiet life. Nobody actually expected to win these kinds of competitions, she had almost forgotten even signing up, and then this happened! What was she to do now? This wasn't a sum of money someone like her was capable of being in possession of.

Sure, there were things she wanted to buy and places she wanted to visit that were now fully accessible to her, but what was she supposed to do with the rest of the money? Donate to charity? Invest in something? Start her own business? She didn't know how to do any of these things!

There was a knock on the door. Her groans of frustration were muffled to whoever was outside.

It was time to turn to alcohol.

Bars were not a place she visited regularly. Or ever. She never really drank alcohol before, but she was confident it was the right time to start. The place had a flickering neon sign above it and the interior was dimly lit. It was unlikely for anyone to recognize her in there, surely.

Hunched over the counter, she swirled the foul smelling drink in her glass. Come on, you can do it. She lowered her head and dipped her tongue in it inconspicuously but pulled away quickly, a grimace settling on her face instantly. Do people enjoy this? It was awful.

The barista across from her was old and didn't seem to have any suspicions aside from eyeing her strange behavior. One would never assume that she was a millionaire. Millionaires aren't supposed to be young, timid girls. Yet there she was.

Annabel planted her face in her hands once again and pondered about life and the likelihood of something being wrong with the liquid in front of her.

What in the world was she going to do?

»»-------------¤-------------««

@Vellum​

 

[Vellum]

Allen was three days now on a drunken binge, draped across a section of the bar that he had claimed for himself. At this point, he really ought to just bring his bed right into the back room. He'd only been away from the bottle of bourbon for long enough to crash into his bed for a few hours and shower, and that felt like an accomplishment.

He was twenty four and too young to be moping like some 80 year old with his hay-day long gone. But it certainly felt like it, now that he'd lost his job and most of his money. Honestly, he wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the next month's rent. Right now, he was more interested in paying the bar tender for his next bottle.

"Al," he groaned, eyeing the bottle with barely an inch left. "You can't mop alone all day." he urged, popping open another bottle regardless and setting it down in front of the man. Al caught his own reflection in the glass for a moment, auburn hair messily pushed back and shadows beneath eyes that nearly blended with the contents of the bottle. 'Whiskey brown' his mother called them.
Whiskey, bourbon...it was all the same to him. Bourbon was cheaper and he could drink more in one sitting without getting totally smashed.

"Well, you see. I'm not moping alone." Al explained, finishing off the first bottle in one go. Empty bottle still in hand, he gestured towards Annabel. "That doll over there is just as mopey as me, which means that I," he popped the top of the second bottle, "am not alone." he finished, winking and taking the first drink out of this one.

The bartender stared at him hard enough that Al groaned and sulked his 6'0" frame out of the chair at the far end of the bar. Taking his bottle with him, he swaggered over to Annabel and slid into the stool next to her. "See? I'm socializing." he huffed in the older man's direction, then turned toward the shy looking girl.

"Allan Powell," he introduced to the young woman. "But a cute cat like you can just call me Al," he added. "You're lookin' awful low over here, doll. Wanna talk about it?" he offered.

 

[Bambi!!]

»»-------------¤-------------««
​

Not taking notice of the man beside her until he spoke up, Annabel's head snapped up towards him, her cerulean eyes wide and startled. Everything that was happening in her life right now was putting her on edge. She took a moment to take a deep breath and really look at the person beside her.

"Annabel," she spoke warily, "Lee." She was cautious, the first reason being that he looked exactly like the type of person she would avoid. Handsome, yes, sure, but that did not put her at ease. Perhaps it was a bit shallow, but she was fairly isolated form the world and knew that surely, nothing good can come from someone in a place like this.

Wait. She was here too. But it didn't count.

The second reason being that for the past few days, everyone that attempted to come in contact with her either had bogus propositions or vaguely unsettling messages, all about the money she had won.

Annabel was praying to god that Allan did not recognize her.

"I-I think I'm good," her eyebrows raised as she nodded her head towards him, "Do you want to talk about it?" As much as she didn't trust him, there was no real excuse to be rude. That and she was absolutely way too awkward to excuse herself and leave. So she gave him a chance. Can't judge a book by it's cover, right?

An uncomfortable smile made it's way onto her pale face in an attempt to seem friendly. She was truly the worst at socializing.

»»-------------¤-------------««​