the smell of wine and cheap perfume, [ryan/shadia]

[angel patrick sala]

There he was, in all his glory, Angel fucking Sala, a bottle of straight liquor in each hand, and a plastic store bag full of fire works hanging from his wrist. This could only mean two things; the world was ending or someone was ending up in the hospital before the night ended. What was worse? The one and only place he shouldn't have headed he did, without so much as a second thought. His sick, twisted, warped little mind knowing full well if anyone was going to indulge his crazy dangerous antics it'd sure as hell be Ryan Price. Why? Because in the long run if Angel did end up blowing his face off Ryan at least would laugh his ass off instead of going all paranoid 'quick lets call the ambulance!' on him straight off the bat. Everyone else? Not so much. Ryan meant less drama and thus more fun, so combine that with fireworks and lots of booze and shit is going down.

Without even so much as a warning yell Angel opened the door to the Long December bus and ascended the steps "hey fuckers if you're getting it on you have two seconds to finish up cause i came to party, i ain't ready to fuck yet, and you know what they say; it's rude not to share". He walked in like he owned the place, plopping down on the bench and setting the booze and fireworks beside him before picking up one of the bottles again, uncapping it and taking a swing. Tonight would be fun.

[ryan andrew price]

Ryan had been on his laptop replying to tweets and looking through his facebook when he heard the steps of Angel Sala coming into his bus. He didn't have a show tonight so he was being pretty unproductive but being on tour and being busy a good amount of time made lazy days seem like heaven. Even though they mostly were spent drinking and replying to tweets the same old thing got old every once in a while. Not that he'd tell anyone else that. He had a reputation as the guy who drank a ton and called himself "Jesus" and he planned to stand by that no matter what. It's what he wanted, even though not everyone liked it.
When Angel came in, throwing up a huge ruckus, Ryan couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sometimes he got annoyed with Angel but it at least kept things interesting and not on the same damn boring page all the time. So he didn't object or tell Angel to get out. "Hey Angel," Ryan said, sitting up more and setting his laptop beside him. Getting up, Ryan took his liquor and took a swig of it, then handing it back to him. "What's up with the fireworks? Ryan automatically knew that tonight would be fine. Jesus was also aware that one of them would end up hurt. If it wasn't him, he wouldn't really care. What happened to Angel wasn't his issue.