oh, darling. [abigail]

[grayson quincy helling;]

BUT THE CITY'S SAYING "OH DARLING, YOU'RE MINE"

and your smile says you've got it together

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: B8B8B8; border: #550505 solid 4px; width: 400px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] Grayson watched the flames of the bonfire lick upwards towards the dark sky. A bonfire was a sort of new experience for him, he'd never attended the bonfires in high school and when he'd lived in Britain he certainly hadn't been to any there. And he was beginning to wonder what the point of the bonfires were. For a whole bunch of bandmembers to get together and drink themselves silly only to fall into the fire? Yea. That made a lot of sense. The sarcastic and negative thoughts irritated Grayson, as did being out of his element. Here he knew no one, and the thought of attempting to barge into one of the massive groups of people held little appeal. As luck would have it of course his bandmates hadn't shown yet. Drawing in a breath and running a hand through his hair Grayson shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and glared at the fire. It still amazed him that Americans would find this such an entertaining endeavor. It was like asking for serious burns when alcohol was involved. Not that Grayson himself was innocent, he'd been foxed many times in his life but never had he drank before a fire. "Bloody hell" His British accent pulled at his words as he stood at the end of the fire, a bored look upon his features. Perhaps he'd get lucky and some newcomer would approach him and take pity on his bored state, or a member of one of the groups would break away and socialize with him. Either way Grayson chose not to care too much about it. He'd vowed to get out of the bus tonight and he had, plus the tensions within the band were enough to encourage him to break away for a bit. Drawing in a breath he pulled at the simple white t-shirt that clung to his well-built form biding his time. words; BLEH tag; ABIGAIL note; SORRY IT'S CRUMMY template made by missickle

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[abigail lee torres;]

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Abigail flashed a cute smile to any person she passed by. She felt that if she made even a small gesture of kindness to one person, it would brighten their day even a little bit. She was always one to help people with anything they needed, even if they didn't ask. It was just the kind of person she was. The fragile girl looked to all of the already drunken band members and frowned a little. Abigail had always despised any type of alcohol, at any amount. Her father was a level 5 alcoholic and is past the point of help. He was almost always shitfaced drunk, which resulted in anything Abigail did made him angry, thus beginning to hit her. The girl is very touchy on the subject, therefor shoved the thought to the back of her head before she showed any signs of being unhappy, not that anyone would notice.

The dyed red headed girl was only of the few that weren't holding a cup of poison in her hand, standing in front of the fire that danced upwards to the sky. It illuminated in the glow of her blue eyes, as Abigail settled in front of the warm fire as a few cold breezes brushed by and she cuddled herself in her jacket in an attempt to stay warm. The guitarist kind of regretted attending this party, she wasn't one to participate in the drinking and the drugs. Life would have been so much more satisfying if she was sitting in her bunk in the bus writing or reading. Anything to get away from the buzz of both her fellow bandmates and other tour companions.

As Abigail took a step away from the fire and towards the buses, she hesitated as she caught a glimpse of a neighboring band member standing at the edge of the fire. A smile spread across her pale facial features as she approached him, hoping to get rid of both of their boredom. "Hi!" she piped up, friendly nature almost overflowing out of her pores. "My name's Abigail." she spoke again, her hands tucked tightly across her small frame as she was wrapped in a warm coat but yet still freezing. "Are you okay?" she asked only a few moments later. A simple question that itched at her, the pure curiosity of her selfless nature. "You don't seem to be that 'into' this party crowd."

Abigail simply noted that the male didn't have a drink in his hand, but she could just be jumping to conclusions. Nonetheless, it was a conversation starter and both herself and the other looked as if they needed a good socialization experience.

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omnomnomnom this sucks omg i'm sorry. D;

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template made by pan of caution 2.0

[grayson quincy helling;]

BUT THE CITY'S SAYING "OH DARLING, YOU'RE MINE"

and your smile says you've got it together

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: B8B8B8; border: #550505 solid 4px; width: 400px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] The first thing he noticed about the girl as she drew towards him was the crimson color of her hair. Immediately a slow smirk drifted across his lips before she even began speaking to him. Grayson knew from experience that often times a persons' personality reflected in their self-image and he could already begin guessing that the following conversation would turn into something of interest. And considering the bored atmosphere currently surrounding him Grayson wasn't going to turn down any sort of entertainment. His soft greenish-blue hues often taken for being a soft gray rested on her, silently drinking in her words as she spoke to him. "Abigail eh?" He couldn't help but repeat her name, enjoying the sound on his lips. "I'm Grayson. Pleasure to meet you, and yes, this party is turning out to be nothing but bullocks." He grinned, his very British accent lacing through his words as he slowed. Most people enjoyed hearing him talk as he'd found out after moving Stateside. Considering how the country was a 'melting pot' he was a bit amused that any American would find interest in his accent. "Truthfully I'm attempting to figure out why one would think it intelligent to get foxed beside a fire. It's like a paradox is occurring." He grinned once more, his very formal tones setting him apart from the slang that Americans had turned into their form of English. "Please tell me you don't plan on partaking in this cack? Because then I will feel the need to take back our introduction." Grayson wink, his jest clearly made. He'd found it was much easier to make others smile in a conversation then anything else. Running a hand absentmindedly through his hair he smiled again at Abigail. "What's drawn you to these parts? Surely you're not a crazed fan who's going to ask me to sign some body part right?" He grinned once more, the slow smile a signature trait of his. Though Grayson was in a popular band and had been asked multiple times to sign someone's body parts he'd always managed to charm his way out of the situation. Everyone fell for the British chivalry. Grayson kept his attention riveted on the crimson haired girl, his fondness for her hair color growing. He had no doubts that he was bound to enjoy the night. words; 390 tag; ABIGAIL note; OMIGOSH MINE STINKS TOO. STILL GETTING USED TO HIM Xd template made by missickle

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[abigail lee torres;]

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The red head was almost completely taken aback by his overwhelming British accent. Abigail's smile quickly spread even further across her face as she learned of the boy's name. Her eyes slightly averted to the side and examined the drunken people around them, stumbling about around the large fire. Her caring nature automatically wanted to make sure no one got hurt, but the memory of her father flashing in the back of her mind causing Abigail to think that some of them might deserve it.. Returning her blue gaze back to Grayson, she giggled slightly at his question. "Oh no no no," she said shaking her head a little as the wind blew on her pale cheeks. "Of course not, I stay away from the drugs and the alcohol and the smokes." she said, smirk on her face. She assumed he didn't touch the stuff either, otherwise he'd probably be clumsily almost falling into the fire along with the majority of the people there.

Abigail was actually refrained from talking at the moment, only because she wanted to listen to him talk more than anything. Her short frame stood looking up at Grayson, appreciating the moment that she had to make new friends. The red headed girl almost completely got lost in his voice, like most people probably did, before she realized that he had asked another question. "Oh, I'm the guitarist for a band called All That's Love..." she said, "I was kind of required to be here by my band mates." she added, scanning the people around the fire for the other members of her band and making a small gesture towards them. With a small laugh, she shook her head no. "No, no signatures needed. How do I know you're not a crazed fan trying to get me to get you free tickets?" she poked fun at him, raising and eyebrow jokingly.

In all honesty, Abigail had no problem with signing things, even body parts for fans. Probably because being such young girl in a starting band was such a thrill. She was still in high school, after all. "So why aren't you participating in this kind of festivities, other than the stupidity factor going on here?" Abigail questioned, he didn't really come off as a sober, straight edge guy to her. While most people were being obnoxiously loud around the fire, the small girl kept her attention fixed on the British boy who would, by the looks of her, accompany her for the night.

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well. this is bad. /shot
braindead doesn't work well. D|

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template made by pan of caution 2.0

[grayson quincy helling;]

BUT THE CITY'S SAYING "OH DARLING, YOU'RE MINE"

and your smile says you've got it together

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: B8B8B8; border: #550505 solid 4px; width: 400px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] He gave her a sheepish grin, not at all phased by the fact that she drew pause at his accent. It was a typical reaction that he got from most Americans. Grayson had always felt awkward with all the attention his clearly foreign voice got him but he was willing to get over it if it meant that he got to interact with others. Social events were something that Grayson actually enjoyed nowadays, because it kept him from feeling like a recluse in the bands' bus. "Oy. Glad to know another is taking the 'high road' as you American's say." His slow grin once more crossed his lips, his full body shrug a European trait. Grayson was suprised at how relieved that Abigail wasn't going to participate in the lame events of influences placed upon young adults. She seemed innocent, and sweet. He'd much prefer she held onto that for as long as possible. In his opinion therre were enough bad things in the world. Grayson nodded as she spoke of being in a band, and immediately began trying to place the band. If he was correct they were all the youngest as they were in school still. Grade twelve. As she continued to speak he once more graced her with a true smile, his white teeth clearly showing. "Cheerio! Free tickets eh?" His deep lyrics flew easily from his lips, a coy smile still placed upon his handsome features. "Bah. I've got a back-stage pass. I'm the drummer for Ever Since We Met." Grayson had noted that Abigail had made a small gesture to a few others whom he surmised were apart of her band. At least they traveled to the same places. The bitter thoughts about his band easily ended when he realized what bad company he was probably being, brooding too much. "Because getting bloody foxed and have a massive hangover has no appeal. I hate feeling daft also." He grinned once more, his easy mood and general interest in the crimson haired girl becoming his soul attention. As far as Grayson was concerned all thoughts of his band-mates could bugger off. "I swear events like these are the reason why so many worry about our generation." Grayson winked at Abigail, humor clearly shown on his face. "Care to entertain a handsome and chivalrous Brit for the night?" words; too lazy tag; ABIGAIL note; x.x template made by missickle

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