𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠. a careful ceo meets an intriguing spitfire with an unapologetic attitude.
𝐣.𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ▪︎ ceo and of bbrecords
record label & recording studio
𝐩𝐨𝐩�...
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Poppy began sobering up around the time they were finished taking her fingerprints and booking her in the early morning of Tuesday. Though, she let herself focus on that numbing ache in the back of her head instead of her current reality, being arrested in America for the first time. She didn't remember much from the past hours but the ache all over her body and the fresh, raw bloodied knuckles, tells her she more than likely got in another brawl, definitely while out with Natasha.
Then it hit her, Natasha turned to Stark, she remembered getting angry at her friend's lying and secrets before everything faded to blackness shortly after.
The messy girl with raw bloodied hands and orange coils tousled all around her, sat in the small cement holding cell, leaned against the cold grey painted cinderblock wall. The cool chill of the wall against her skin a calming timeout as she comes down from her drunken high over the course of the next hours, crashing shortly after into a deep sleep.
She refused her phone call, unwilling to involve Stark and too embarrassed to involve James or her other bosses, poor thing didn't remember they watched her get arrested. So Poppy spent the rest of the day in a holding cell waiting to post bail early Wednesday morning, shame covering her as people file in and out over the thirty-some hours she was there.
She had admitted to herself that sobering up in a cell like this was the most eye opening experience she'd had since serving her year back home. 'I'll never let myself get arrested again,' she thought as she watched the sunrise through the small, barred, hole in the wall.
Wednesday morning came after a painfully long break from reality. She had been sitting in near silence for the entire day before, haunted by her sobering truths, her mistakes and vices. She was a mess and she didn't know how to change.
"Morning," she quietly hummed in a whisper as she stood and stretched.
She was filled with an uncomfortable fuzzy betrayal from her closest confidant, also a confusion about the black-out evening that led to her knuckles being bloody and her body still feeling sore.
She stood and stretched, her form aching from her stint on the cement bench. Poppy felt dirty, and when she stood for a big stretch of her arms, her stench confirmed that she was in fact disgustingly unclean.
"Ember, you made bail..." a young female officer with blonde hair and kind blue eyes looked at her early that Wednesday morning.
Within a fifteen minutes, Poppy was walking out the front door of the precinct with her little plastic bag of belongings, pulling her hair into a knotted bun on her head, while small spirals fall into her face. She was being charged with assault and battery, and she couldn't even remember why or how. She had a court date the next week and already felt a level of dread that felt completely unfamiliar.
