[CLOSED] light's on.

[thatcher owen finley]

Marc smiled over at the boy, tapping his fingers on his legs. "We're okay." He said, then shrugged. It was obvious Marc didn't know much about relationships. "He came to see me the other day. Stayed over at my place for the night." Thatcher drummed his fingers on the counter, listening to Marc with little interest. Which was strange for Thatcher. He was normally engrossed in the boy.

"Hey Thatcher?" Marc asked, and Thatcher looked over at him. "How do you tie a tie?"

Thatcher slowly undid his tie, then motioned for Kit to come over. He tossed one end around his neck, grabbing it with his other hand and pulling him forward. A smirk tugged at the ends of Thatcher's lips, but he didn't even smile. He tied it slowly, letting Marc see how it was done. He let it go, raising an eyebrow at the boy before turning back to Marc.

"Like that." He said flatly, unbuttoning the first button on his shirt. He took another sip of his drink, his eyes scanning Marc's face. The boy seemed to be amazed by the graceful way Thatcher's hands had moved.

[reagan tanis burke]

Kit had his head cocked as he listened, a smile plastered on his face. "Well, if you ever need tips, just let me know." He winked slyly, but he knew he would just fluster Marc more than anything. In his opinion, the kid was too innocent, but really, who wasn't compared to him?

When the other guy, Marc's friend he assumed, motioned him over, he did as he was bid, wondering why the guy had chosen him, when he could have demonstrated on Marc. As the stranger pulled him close with the tie he took a moment to inspect him. His first thought was why isn't Reagan going after him? He's totally her type. When Thatcher was done and looking back at Marc Kit turned to grin at Reagan.

Teach knew just how to piss her off. She watched the scene between them with a growing fury. The idiot wanted nothing to do with her, but was interacting with her manwhore of a brother. A scowl set her lips in a downward cast as she downed her beer in gulps, slamming it back down on the counter. "Another one Marc."

[thatcher owen finley]

Marc jumped at the noise, then walked to the other end of the bar. He got her beer, then started refilling the girls' drinks at the end of the bar. Thatcher just looked at his spot on the wall, appearing unphased by the entire thing. He took another sip of his drink, glancing towards the end of the bar at Marc. He could tell the noise had scared it more than it should have.

"You're a real bitch." Thatcher said flatly, looking back at his spot on the wall. "His dad's an alcoholic who beat on him, and you're going to go slamming glasses around the poor boy? Classy." He felt nothing but anger towards her for scaring Marc. The boy was broken enough. He finished off his drink, walking to the bathroom. He walked back once he was finished to see his drink fixed and waiting for him. He just pushed it away, not trusting the girl to try and poison him. Not that it would do much good anyways. He had half a mind to go after her brother just to get her back for scaring Marc.

"You're okay?" Thatcher asked him as he took the drink back, pouring it into the sink. He shrugged, and Thatcher gritted his teeth.

[reagan tanis burke]

She saw Marc jump and averted her eyes, berating herself. She should know better, but she was upset and working on being drunk. She knew loud noises bothered him, but she had forgotten about everything but her anger, and now she may have messed up the 'friendship' she had with him. "Marc, I'm sorry, I forgot." Her voice was soft, without any malice in it for once. It instead sounded a lot like guilt.

At Thatcher's words she gritted her teeth and stared down at her hands, not trusting herself to look at him. Once he got up to go to the bathroom she finally looked up at Marc, something akin to tears in her eyes. "I didn't know. I, I'm-" She sprang from the bar stool and pushed through the crowd to get to the break room, the only place to be alone with her rage right now.

Kit looked back and forth, confused for a moment. Had he missed something? Watching his sister rush away he shook his head. The girl had absolutely no people skills. Thatcher cam back and he spoke up for his twin. "Don't hold it against her. Reagan's people skills are zero to nil, and she forgets about others quite often, but she means no harm."

[thatcher owen finley]

"I've noticed." Thatcher said flatly. He reached over, undoing his tie from the boy's neck. He raised his own collar, slipping the tie under it before putting it back down. The simple action seemed to have cheered Marc up.

"Now tie it." He told Thatcher, watching him intently. Thatcher buttoned the first button again, then tied his tie. He looked up at Marcus, the boy smiling again. Thatcher smiled a bit, lacing his fingers together on the counter top. He watched the boy fix him another drink, and Thatcher took it. He pulled out his wallet, leaving his money for Marc there. He started slowly on his drink, his eyes tracing over the tiles on the wall. He took the rest of the drink, full except for his one sip, and downed it like it was nothing. He sat the empty glass there, the room spinning for a moment before it fell still again. Marc came to fix him another drink and he shook his head, handing him the money. But he didn't leave the bar. He just sat there, waiting for the buzz he had to wear off, which was going to be soon, considering his tolerance to alcohol.

[reagan tanis burke]

Kit allowed him to take his tie back, but with a pout on his face. Thatcher's hand's being near him made him smile though. He smelled really good. And he was hot. Thinking about having under him made Kit's blood sing, almost begging for the thought to become reality.

"Can I buy you a drink? Or more?" He had seen how quickly he had downed the one, figured he had a high tolerance. Plus, if he could get him drunk, he might have a chance.

Reagan locked the door to the break room and raged. She didn't know who it was precisely that set her off. Kit? Teach? Or herself? She picked up an empty bottle that was on her desk and launched it across the room, a dark part of her rejoicing at the shattering glass that exploded against the far wall. Who was that bastard to read her? To talk down to her? Next went a chair. It didn't break, but bashed against the wall with a satisfying smack none the less. Nothing was safe from her, not even her own things.

[thatcher owen finley]

Thatcher looked over at him, then shrugged. It wasn't like people didn't always buy him drinks, because they did. But he usually drank them so painfully slow, whatever intentions they had when they gave it to him had been long gone by then. He wasn't normally a spiteful person, but the idea of sleeping with Reagan's brother still stuck in his head. He had had a few girls, but guys weren't entirely out of the question. He couldn't deny feeling attracted to Marc at some point or another. Those were things he had never felt for Deacon, though. And things he would never think of feeling for him.

"That depends on what your cruel intentions are for buying me a drink." He said with a smirk, tilting his head a bit to look at him, his bright blue eyes catching the boy's. He would drag the answer out of him if he had to. And he wasn't above it. It wasn't often that he smirked, but it was known to make hearts beat a little faster. "You're no Marc. You don't buy people a drink for no reason. Because you feel the need to be nice." He leaned in, his lips close to the boy's. "So tell me- what's wrong with the girls at the other end of the table?" He asked, then straightened back up in his seat, eyeing Marc again.

[reagan tanis burke]

Kit had the decency to look affronted at Thatcher's remark. "Cruel intentions? Well I never. I'm just trying to be sociable and apologize for my sister. Scouts honor." He held up the three fingers for the scout promise, but he had a sheepish, shit-eating grin on his face. Kit knew he was easy to figure out, but did he care? Um, no.

When the guy smirked and leaned close Kit decided right then and there that he wanted him, Reagan be damned. He would deal with her later. He debated separating the distance between their lips and kissing this stranger, but the next sentence made him pause. He looked over his shoulders at the girls, sending them into fits of giggles, and decided some other time. Sitting next to Thatcher and leaning close he whispered into his ear, walking two fingers up the buttons of his shirt, "they aren't you."

[thatcher owen finley]

Thatcher raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly he planned to do. "But see, the difference between them and me.." He started, grabbing his hand and setting it in Kit's lap. "Is that two fingers are enough to make them scream. That's what you're used to, isn't it?" He ran his hand up the boy's leg, his face void and emotionless. "A simple touch, a glance being enough to turn someone on. Your touch enough to make them scream for you." His hand grew closer and closer to his waist, moving more and more in until his hand was on the inside of his thigh. He stopped just short of actually touching him.

"Two can play that game. But only one of us will be screaming. And it won't be me." He pulled his hand away, folding it together with his other hand over the counter. The alcohol was nearly out of his system, and he was sure if he was asked to, he would walk a straight line. But his growing need to get Reagan back wasn't going anywhere. Marc wouldn't do it, Marc was too sweet and innocent to hurt anyone. But Thatcher had said earlier than anyone who dared hurt him, he would kill them. And he planned on killing her. Slow and miserably.

[reagan tanis burke]

Kit was relatively unfazed by Thatcher's actions. Sure, they made him horny, but what didn't? He listened as he talked, a smirk still resting on his lips. When Thatcher was done talking he shrugged lazily, "sometimes a few words of love eternal, but as long as I get what I want, words are just words." His body lamented the loss when the hand was removed from his leg, but he did not let it show.

"Is that a challenge?" A roguish glint sparkled in Kit's eyes, taking any route to get Thatcher in his bed. Reagan would make him pay, but it would be worth his sister's rage.