Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2016 19:04:06 GMT
Here's the rub. Declan Black pays an exorbitant sum of money before every major show he's in to hold a massive luxury barbecue, with everything you can imagine, for the roster, talent, staff, you name it. Everybody usually gets loaded drunk on top-shelf liquor, so they're nice and pissed off for the show. Feel free to get up to any funny, outlandish shite you want, this is meant as a little pre-show fun thread. I'll be getting one up the day before all the Livewires. For purposes of location, the loading dock in the back of the Manhattan Center is opened up, and this is where the events are held. While these can get a little verbally nasty, especially as people start to drink, there is no violence during these events. Enjoy!
*Declan Black arrives, wearing an old Cape Breton Breakers away jersey and black track shorts. He makes sure everything's just right, and the DJ starts to play some Sublime. He makes sure to get the first half rack of ribs off the grill , and grabs a tumbler, pouring off a few fingers of Havana Club Maximo Extra rum and topping it off with some ice and coke. He finds a porch chair and sits.*
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Post by Dick Devereaux on Sept 10, 2016 19:16:17 GMT
[Dick Devereaux makes his way out to the barbeque where he spot a Declan. He sighs as he grabs a plate and throws down a nice portion of white rice and then tops it with a few pieces of grilled chicken. Dick walks to the cooler and oops it open, eyeing the contents inside for a few moments before deciding on water. He grabs a bottle and slams the cooler closed before heading to a solo seat at a table. Declan looks towards him and Dick returns the look with a middle finger.]
DICK DEVEREAUX: Take a fuckin' picture. It'll last longer bitch.
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Post by Trixie on Sept 10, 2016 20:48:57 GMT
Trixie turns up to the Barbecue with a nice yellow sundress and a daisy flower pin in her hair with yellow flat shoes to complete her attire for the event. She walks up scanning the area for a certain someone, not seeing them, she relaxes, lets her hair down figuratively and collects herself a small plate with some chicken wings and some side salad and a plastic fork to walk between DICK and DECLAN, taking a bite of the wing, it's freshly hot, too hot and she drops it on the plate, handling the bite she has and manages to get it down.
TRIXIE:
"Hey boys. Declan, thanks for this. Food is lovely. Dicky Boo Boo."
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Post by Dick Devereaux on Sept 10, 2016 21:22:59 GMT
DICK DEVEREAUX: Are you in love with my ass or something? Leave me alone.
[Dick takes a bite out of a chunk of chicken before cracking the top off a water bottle and taking a gulp.]
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Post by Trixie on Sept 10, 2016 22:06:51 GMT
TRIXIE:
"I just said your name. It's called being polite. Recognizing people. Can you believe this guy, Declan?" Trixie takes herself a tiny forkful of the salad and chews it down.
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Jill Lorder
EOW Regular
Must Be My Electric Personality
Posts: 27 
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Post by Jill Lorder on Sept 10, 2016 22:44:59 GMT
It was the day before the first Livewire event was taking place, and while Jill Lorder wasn't going to be competing, she was still going to show up and watch the other wrestlers do their thing. However, the blond was too excited and couldn't wait until Sunday to meet everyone. So, when she got word that a barbecue party was happening, Jill figured that she could come by and meet everyone. You know, chat with some of the wrestlers and maybe make a couple of new friends by the end of the night. She's always been the outgoing type, so why not have some fun?
"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to meet some new people here, huh?"
Jill smiled as she walked in, giving everyone a slight nod in acknowledgement.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2016 1:21:30 GMT
*Declan takes a long drag of his drink, then looks to Trixie at his side."
"Well, Trixie, perhaps the cops busted his meth lab. Or he's just depressed because he's on the 'B' show."
*He changes his focus to Jill Lorder.*
"Hello, Miss Lorder. Feel free to help yourself."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2016 4:04:39 GMT
Nothing ever got past Harper, including news of 'secret' parties.
Secret or not and whether it was for her specific brand or not, she felt that it was her responsibility to check it out. She wasn't sure if her attire was suitable either. Most of the parties she attended had specified a dress code on the invitation but this invitation had come by word of mouth. Of course it was from a few of the backstage workers that had tried to get a conversation going as she had left the building after signing her paperwork. She'd tried to dress as casually as her wardrobe would allow, but even then it was nothing short of the latest couture. The finest that the New York fashion scene had to offer.
That was the thing about Harper, she followed the fashion trends. She did what was thought to be socially acceptable. Dated the men who were deemed acceptable. Went to events that were featured in the society pages of the newspapers but inside, it wasn't who Harper really was. She had tried to live up to the ideals of her high-society mother yet inside she was screaming to be more like her father even if he had assimilated more into the lifestyle of the rest of the Long Island elite.
It took everything in her not to snub her nose at the array of... what she guessed was what some might call a 'great spread' of food suitable for a Barbecue. None of them were items that she would dare put to her lips. It wasn't as though she felt she was too good for the party or the food. It was just that she took great pride in monitoring every single morsel she consumed.
Ever since the death of her stepmother, she had been adamant about everything being of the utmost best quality and if she was not able to accurately determine the origin she politely declined partaking. That, however, didn't stop her from spotting an array of alcoholic beverages and although the wine was not exactly a Domaine de la Romanee-Conti, it would at least numb the need to run in panic at the display of the decidedly less cultured attending this party.
And of course, it wasn't as if Harper felt she was better than anyone, it was just that innate thing that was breed into her to suddenly hate all that were different than her. How it had been drilled into her to be polite and proper but in such a way that you were still seen as having an air of superiority.
She smirks at the thought.
Her contract was so new she doubted anyone here recognized her. She wasn't exactly a 'big name' on her own, more like riding the coat-tails of the name of her more famous father. Martin Riley had been a beloved bruiser during most of the early to mid-90s until an injury sidelined him indefinitely.
Taking the glass of white wine, she takes only a few polite sips, as to not insult the host for his invitation, even if he didn't specifically invite her personally. She watches the group, trying to appear to be having a good time but also not giving any need for any of them to give her much attention. She had made a fine art of watching silently, yet it still managed to put some people off. She supposed she would never fully understand the concept of it.
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