Michael walked through the graveyard, looking over the moss covered head stones. The evening was cool, so he removed his shirt and glanced over the scars plaguing his body. He reminisced where they came from. In his stupor he stumbled on a tree root, pulling him back to the present. He noticed the tears upon his face.

"Fuck..." he mumbled as he wiped them away. He finally found a spot that was somewhat secluded and sat and pulled the headphones over his ears. He pulled the whiskey bottle from his pocket after a quick glance for police, and took a drink. He needed someone... or something... he couldn't take being alone anymore.

Ace was high. High enough, in fact, that it had seemed like a good idea to wander the streets (normal for him), and as he came down from the drug, found himself near a graveyard (not so normal for him). Essentially, Ace loved being alive; loved passion and pain and the rush of color that came from when he woke up in the morning or from the lights of a sweat-soaked stage or from the hallucinations the heroin caused when he mainlined enough of the stuff. So being in a place reserved for the dead was new for him.

Still spun out enough to wander, he walked along the paths and gravel-ways until he found himself in a secluded area. Then, seeing someone else, he stared. Not sure if it was real or just another needle dream, he looked the person over, and decided they had to be real; his illusions were usually much more distorted.

"Hell caught up with you?" Stumbling himself, he swayed until he sat on the ground, staring up at the stranger.

"Honestly, I don't want to talk about it..." he mumbled as he took another drink. "It was hell, and now hell is gone... although the memory remains." He looked over to see the man who made the remark, and his eyes lit up.

"It's nice to meet you though," he said louder but somewhat timidly as he extended his arm. He found the man rather attractive, and being in the state he was in, his guard was down.

((Yaoi? *fangirl senses tingling*
Oh, Michael, OOC comments can be found between two parenthesis. Your character should ignore these as I DON"T EXIST))

(OOC: *rolls his eyes* Why is it every time I talk to a male character you assume sex will occur?)

Ace grinned at the gesture, but decided to play it his way. Rather than shaking the guy's hand, Ace put his hand around Michael's, then curled the hand into a fist. Drawing his own hand back, Ace then pressed his own fist against Michael's. It was a less formal greeting than a handshake, something friends might do, which was exactly why Ace did it. Formality had never sat well with him, and he wasn't embarrassed by his own antics in the least.

"Heya, 'm Ace."

Michael had been lost in that. Not having friends, or any outside contact for that matter, that was the first time he was greeted like that. He realized how sad he must seem...

"I'm Michael. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you. So, and forgive me if this is intrusive" - grinning, making it apparent both that he was joking and that even if it was intrusive he'd ask anyway, Ace said "But why are you sitting in a graveyard in the middle of the night?"

"Well... I don't mind. At least, I didn't mind so much after looking up," he laughed, a bit nervous. Of course, it was the whiskey making him talk...

"I needed to get out and clear my head. Try to forget the past, and the present, and to take in some cool and fresh air. And I absolutely love the idea of death..." He leaned his head back for a moment and took a deep breath. He brought his head down and grinned.

Ace grinned. "Someone's forward. As for clearing your head, I'm sure the alcohol will help. As for the past and present, yeah, they hurt like a bitch, but why you'd want to forget 'em I don't know - that's all part of the fun; at least, it is with the right additive. As for death, I'd like to try it, but only once."

"My past... was a lot for me... and I don't want to discuss it..." His eyes started to tear, but he held it back and took another drink.

"As for death... I don't want to die... I want a lot of others to though. And of course I'm going to be forward... but to be honest, it's the liquor talking." He laughed again. He hadn't felt this good for a long time.

"Both of the first two points are entirely fair, but if it's just the liquor talking, I might be offended." Ace winked at him, then as the heroin wore off more and more, clenched his fists and tilted his head back, the hyper sensitivity it caused making the night air seem almost sharp against his skin.

"It isn't completely the liquor. I can still see, so... I'm pretty sure it's my fault too." He streached and looked around. He saw Ace's fists clenched.

"You feeling alright?"

Breathing slightly shallow, Ace grinned at him. "Yeah man, top of the world." A quiet, breathless laugh later, and Ace unclenched his fists.

"So, what's your poison?" Taking the bottle from him and reading the label, ignoring the goose-bumps that rose up his fore-arm because to his skin, the cold glass burned, he read aloud, "Single malt whiskey. Very nice." Taking a sip, he handed the bottle back.

"Okay, if you insist you're fine..." Michael said in that smart-ass tone that sounds somewhat like sarcasm. ((Right description?))

He knew something was wrong. He wasn't completely blind or ignorant... although maybe a bit stupid.

Ace didn't miss the sarcasm. "What, never seen someone on smack before? This is the intended effect."