"I, Too, Prefer Beer...or Alcohol In General, Really." Briggs Admitted With A Small Shrug. "But I Pulled

"Four. Or so everyone says. I also don't eat my green veggies, if you're curious." Briggs retorted with a wide, shit-eating grin. It was a lie, he was capable of eating all vegetables, but for the purposes of entertaining her and this conversation, he was going to act like he didn't. One thing about him, he loved to annoy people. "Just how old do you really think I am? I was joking, I am not four. I'm closer to mid-age than I am to twenty. I just have really great genes." His grin only grew at her answer. "Got other plans after the set, obviously. Something more private, but still very loud." He turned his head to gesture to the bartender to come over and then looked back at the stranger. "I'll see what I can do. What should I order for you?"

     "Jesus," Cherry muttered then tipped back a sip of her negroni. "How old are you?" Cerulean eyes cut over to the musician clocking that he looked young and virile enough to her. Even though she'd enjoyed his music and sat through most of his set (the bartender had mentioned he'd been a song deep when she'd sat down) the raven haired woman sat impassive. To the untrained eye she'd appear bored. "What're you going to do when you're actually a middle aged man? Or worse, over the hill?" A slight smile turned up a corner of her mouth. "Only perform for the early bird crowd?" Slight acknowledgment came in her giving him partial attention, a barely measured turn of her head in his direction. "Be bold. Order the coffee. The rebel of the hour."

Briggs was nearing the end of all sets by now, but tonight was hands down one of the best nights of his life and that much was evident as he almost jumped down the stage clapping for his bandmates as he did so. His grin only widened at the sight of Peyton, a nice surprise that had turned into a friend fairly quickly. "We both better walk out of here with a date, actually!" He exclaimed as he hugged her tightly. "That dress probably has everyone doing double takes every time that they see you." Briggs said excitedly and then began leading her to the bar at her request. "I'll have whatever you're having, I can't even remember what I've been drinking all night."

closed starter: @briggster location: main stage, underground fire party, scorpion.

The crowd roared into an eruption, cheering on Briggs and his band after they'd finished their latest set. Peyton raised her glass toward the stage, catching her friend's eye and letting out a triumphant, "Woohoo!" The formalities of the Ice Gala had long since passed and Scorpion's underground was welcoming guests into its fiery abode. The entertainment for the evening was of course, the best band in all of Reno, something that Peyton made sure to let Briggs know when she approached him shortly after he left the stage. "If you didn't already have a Valentine before tonight, you do now. I guarantee you just made the majority of this crowd fall in love with you tonight! That was incredible!" She beamed, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him into her excited embrace. "C'mon, let's go to the bar. I'm buying. What're you drinking?"

"You know, I understood you being a little shit when you were younger but now? Now you're just pushing it, Little Throne." It simply wasn't Ronnie and Briggs if they weren't fighting like cats and dogs, in a good way though. Briggs sometimes didn't understand why she had decided to go with being a firefighter instead of joining the family business, but he figured she had her reasons. And she stayed loyal, which was what mattered. "Redbull? Okay, gym bro. What's next, you gonna ask how much I lift? Everyone knew Monster Energy is better by the way." He sipped from his water bottle, smirking back at her. "I've never needed that type of stimulants, actually. Did them a few times, it got boring very quickly. As a firefighter aren't you supposed to be a rule follower and shit, by the way?"

"Hey, don't ask the question if you're not ready to hear the answer." she said with a shrug, turning to lean back against the bar. "I dated a drummer once---Okay, well dated is a nice way of putting it, but you know what I mean. And you're only hurting your case here, Meldaba, if I thought you were a pussy before for not drinking redbull, now I really think you're one for not shoving your face into a line of coke Scarface style. --- And you deign to call yourself a biker and musician," she tutted, as if disappointed.

"Those are fighting words where I'm from, Ronnie. Are you trying to start a fight?" Briggs retorted easily, not missing a beat. He wasn't always the most forthcoming or social person; often lost in his own head, really. But when it came to people that he was close to, he did what he could. "Energy drinks? Who the fuck died and made you the energy drink police, huh? Jesus." He scoffed, all in good nature and then laughed. "Old? Old?! I'm not that much older than you, you're so trying to pick a fight here. It's rude, actually." He smiled as he got his drink and shook his head. "You're a firefighter? I had no idea."

"And what are you going to do about it, Briggs?" She looked at him, blinking expectantly. She would admit, it was something she loved about her last name. It wasn't a privilege she made use of often (or at least not anymore), but the name 'Throne' gave her a lot of leeway. What was someone going to do, complain to the MC president that his only daughter was pulling shit? "They all taste like piss and we as a society just need to accept and admit that. I just drink whichever the cheapest is." She said with a shrug before chugging the remaining gulps of her beer. "God you're such an old man. What was world war two like, Briggs? Do you still get nightmares? --- I'm a firefighter, not a nun. I did have a life before random drug tests, you know."

#me too bestie

"Like who are they? When did they get here?" Briggs joked lightly, he wasn't really bothered by their presence in town, it was probably all the different substances in his system, making him just a bit paranoid. "You'd think all the murders and kidnappings would keep them away but such is not our luck."

"I don't know half of these losers are." Bec said as she looked around and squinted, trying to recognize faces but for all she knew, they'd just gotten old and she couldn't recognize them. "I love a leather jacket bar— but you're right, I think we need to start scaring some people out of town or at least making it harder for people to move here." Which was funny coming from someone who didn't even live here anymore, either. But it didn't matter because this would always, and forever, be home, no matter where she was.

closed for @becflores

location: fire & ice gala

"Okay, but...do you know any of these people?" Briggs asked out loud to no one in particular, but also to anyone that was around him and willing to talk about nonsense. "I've lived here almost my entire life and I don't know where they came from. No wonder they hate us. I'd rather stick to my leather jacket and my loud bar with people I know, you know?"

"Wow. Hater. And that's a lot coming from me." Briggs joked lightly. He was always in a better mood after a performance, doing what he loved to do was what kept him going. "Uber's are for people that don't have to move all their instruments and equipment around, obviously. We have a van to drive." He gestured to the stage where his bandmates had began to pack everything up and then turned around to the bartender. "Can I get a water and I'll cover her drink, too please."

How she’d gotten wrapped up in this, she would never know. What Taylor did know, was that with each passing moment she was regretting it. Signaling for another round, she side eyed the man. “Dude. I will hate on you if you order a coffee instead of a beer at a bar at this damn hour.” She rolled her eyes. “You…have you ever heard of an Uber?”

Briggs downed two shots of vodka, one after another effortlessly and then gestured the bartender over to ask him to take several of those to the band wherever they were sitting. A small smirk played on his lips at AP's words and he turned his head to look back at him. "It's reserved for dive bars and your mom's bedroom, actually. I'm pretty exclusive." He retorted, though there was no bite to his words. Really, this was something that he would even tell his friends from the MC anyway. "I'm going up there shortly, hence all the shots and the reason why I have been in this seat, sorry to disappoint and not say I just liked the company. I do agree with the first band being better. Their song choices did that."

FOR › @briggster LOCATION › fire & ice

The last band on stage had finished their set, followed by the soft applause from the crowd. However, Andrés had found his hand instinctively reaching for his drink that was slid towards him from the bartender. "I think I liked the first band better," he said casually, leaning a forearm onto the marble counter. Despite his gaze trailing forward on the stage to watch as the artists replaced positions, he was acutely aware of who was standing beside him. "You performing tonight? Or is that talent reserved for dive bars?" The tone of his words seemed warm, but there would be no missing the edge that clipped them at the end.

Madness. That was the only way to describe how it felt to be on stage and see everyone rushing around the large venue where the party was taking place. Briggs had froze in place upon the incredibly scary announcement, then had found a way to come down the stage. Not a lot of things were traumatic to Briggs but everything that involved the Melody Davis' case never failed to send him spiraling a bit, add all the substances in his body and the buzz that had been generated by his earlier interaction with Dean and that almost made him feel on edge. As he found himself right in front of the very same man, Briggs finally snapped out of it. "I--fuck, I think I do, I don't know." His eyes focused on Dean's as he placed his hands on the other's shoulders, trying to center himself. "Okay. Let's go. But you need to breathe, I can't carry you anywhere, you have to properly function, Dean." He began pulling him backstage, clearly on a mission.

"Mmh, takes a lot more than a pretty voice to get my underwear off. Nice try, though -- I'm sure I can borrow a pair from one of your little groupies though?" Dean grinned smugly, swaying slightly as his balance began to betray him. "Dunno. Considering I had a few drinks to get through it..." He mused, eyes flickering towards the bartender momentarily. "A few more wouldn't hurt, though. Might make the rest of your sets more bearable. What do you think?"

TIME SKIP

He was far too drunk for this -- well, even if he wasn't drunk, this would have sent him over the edge. He felt like vomiting, his skin on fire with abject panic that far superseded any anxiety that normally coursed through his veins like a fright train. So much so that he didn't have time to hold himself back as he spotted Briggs in the crowd, only having parted momentarily before everything went down. "Please tell me you know a fucking way out of here," Dean practically hissed, instinctively grabbing onto the sleeve of Brigg's shirt as he practically barreled into him. "I've got no cell service down here -- do you? Can you -- didn't you and your Nickelback cover band have to load in from somewhere? Oh god, I think we're running out of air down here..."