Log. May 5, 2008. Oz and Sabrielle's Apartment.

Face, arms, and hands still slightly dirt and grease smudged - Ah, the life of a mechanic. - Oz has been careful to not touch anything clean or white until he takes a shower. Right after he gets this song written down. Sitting in the middle of the floor, guitar in his lap, notebook beside him, Oz for now holds a pen in his mouth, much like a dog would hold a bone, fingers flying over the strings.

Bag still slung over her shoulder, eating the occasional grape, keys jingling in the lock as she opened the door. Flushing even at the sight of Oz, shutting and locking the door behind her. "What, writin' somethin' new, sugar?" Pausing long enough to kiss his forehead before she's wandering into the kitchen to put her produce away.

"Hopefully. If I can get tha damn chords right. Words are always tha easy part." He mumbles in answer around the pen. Guitar setting aside, Oz hops up, following Sabrielle into the kitchen. "Not too dirty ta get an actual greetin', am I?"

The last of the fruit and veggies put away, she's glancing over at him. "Ya get me dirty, Ah'll just have to take a shower an' make ya get me clean, won't Ah?" Sliding arms around him, up on her tiptoes. "Ah just didn't wanna interrupt tha artist at work." Stealing a kiss

"Oh, gee, let me think about that." Oz sarcastically, drawls, putting on a thoughtful expression. "Work... Shower? Work or shower? What ta choose?"

Well, ya only have to shower if ya don't wash your hands first." Chuckling, a finger drawing along his cheek. "Ah was thinkin'...ya wanna try somethin' a little different tonight, Ozzie?"

Eyebrow raising, Oz looks intrigued. "Always up ta tryin' somethin' at least once." He murmurs. "Does this also involve a shower?"

"Ah'm sure ya've done this before, but that's part of my charm, not havin' done a lot of things, right?" Nuzzling her face against his neck. "Could, if ya wanted it to. Was jus' thinkin' about it bein' just you an' me tonight, nothin' between us, ya know?" Her face is turning scarlet. Damn you, Sunset for giving her ideas!

Being so insanely blunt himself, it takes a moment for the metaphor or comparison or whatever you want to call it to decipher in Oz's brain. When it does however, he's silent, expression one of thoughtfulness. Though his eyes seemed to have darkened considerably with many sorts of corrupt emotions. "Tryin' ta think of tha correct way ta say yes ta this."

She can be blunt sometimes. Seems better to ask in advance then to just wait and then try to interuppt things later. Laughing, nuzzling her face against his chest. "Ah think ya just did, Ozzie."

"Think ya got a point." Oz answers huskily before his hands go to her waist, picking her up to hold her to him. "Shower, then?"

Okay, so Sunset was right. He didn't even ask any questions. Arms sliding around his neck, legs around his waist. "Jus' like that, huh? Do we really need a shower?" Nibbling at his ear.

Letting out a slight grown, Oz nips at her neck, teeth scraping over her pulse point. "Know I do. Ya probably do too, dirty girl." He growls in response, already heading for the bathroom, lips and teeth continuing to trail down her neck.

She shivers, rubbing her cheek along his. "Only dirty in mind, sugar." Teasing, hands rubbing at his neck and shoulders. "Sunset's convinced me to make it so ya can not worry about findin' your wallet ot tha box in tha nightstand. That all right by ya?"

Letting out a growl, Oz turns his head to catch her lips in a kiss, hard, passionate, and pretty much meant to make her hush, for now. "No more mentioning my sister." He murmurs, breathing a bit heavier than before. "Since there are currently more important things."

Sabrielle runs the back of her fingers along his cheek, a groan against his kiss, other hand gripping at the back of his neck more tightly. "Ah think it is important. Why didn't ya tell me ya didn't wanna wear 'em, Ozzie?"

"Didn't wanna freak you out any." Oz answers simply, bumping the door to the bathroom open with his hip. "Bit like tellin' somebody ya wanna buy a car but cut tha seatbelts out ain't it? Not 'xactly the safest idea." Setting her on the bathroom counter, the Irishman runs a hand over Sabrielle's cheek. "Ya sure 'bout ti, love? Even with tha risks?"

"Well at first, no, but once we were gonna be livin' together ya coulda said somethin'. Ah didn't think Ah was that unreasonable to live with, that Ah wouldn't talk about it with ya. Jus' didn't know any different. " Head leaning into his touch. "Not as risky as ya think, Ozzie. My empathy makes a lot less risky. Stress levels make it harder for anythin' like that to take, if ya will. Since Ah don't have perfect control yet, not so much to worry about, is it?" Ducking her head to kiss at his throat.-

"Ain't unreasonable, love. Damn near infuriatin' sometimes, but so am I, so I ain't really one ta be complainin' 'bout it, huh?" Oz grins. hand coming up to thread through her hair, Oz leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead, her cheek, her lips, her throat. "But if yer sure... Want me ta start up tha shower?"

She laughs, nipping at the side of his neck. "We're both stubborn as mules, but that's good for makin' it so we have lots of make up sex, isn't it?" Teasing him, hands sliding down to pull any shirt he's wearing up. "Gotta get naked first, Ozzie love. " Chuckling, before she's blurting the question on her mind. "Does it really feel that different?"

Blinking at the sudden question, Oz grins, arms lifting up so the shirt can be pulled off. "Guess you'll have ta wait and find out, huh?" He murmurs before leaning forward to capture her lips again.

---

Log. May 6, 2008. Bar in Chelsea.

If anyone knows Oz, there is always one place you can find him. A bar. Maybe not always at the same bar, but certainly a bar. Unsurpringly, this is currently where he is, a random bar in Chelsea. Perhaps not a bar of his liking - There's some kind of sports game on TV and far too many frat boys in jerseys around for his liking. - but there is alcohol. Always a plus. Sitting at the bar, Guinness in hand, not paying a damn bit of attention to what's on the TV. No, no, he's far too lost in musician thoughts.

And if anyone knows Rich, if it's evening, a weeknight and he's not at school, he's probably at work. If there's no recording at the time, he may be napping. Which is very much the case as a long haired man in his 20s walks into the bar. Glancing over to Oz, sculpted lips turn into a smile as he moves over, sitting at the stool next to him. "Guinness if ya will." He states to the bartender, putting a blatant accent to the request.

Smirking at the familiar voice, Oz glances over to make sure, bottle raising to his lips before he speaks. "Long time no see, mate. Where tha bloody hell have ya been?"

"Drawback o' tha /timeshare/," Mike replies, grinning as the requested beverage is set before him, "Got ta wait fuckin' forever fer yer turn ta come up."

"Yah, I know how that goes." Oz chuckles. "How's tha timeshare been treatin' ya then?"

Mike shrugs, giving a frown, "Gettin' more time. Tha other one doin' tha sharin's been givin' me more o' his times. 'pparently he don't want ta go out there as much now." He lifts up the open bottle to take a swig, "Family problems."

Frowning himself, Oz looks at Mike in confusion. "Family?"He repeats, obviously thinking in the literal sense.

"Not by blood." Mike explains, setting the bottle down, "Those disowned him years ago. More o' tha surrogate type. He's viewin' Jackson as a lil' brother."

"How's tha kid doin'?" Oz asks, frowning down at his bottle. "Last I heard, he got put in tha loony bin. He out yet?"

"Alive." Mike answers, "Which is better 'n some o' us. An' he's out o' there. Don' know where he's livin' thou'. Didn't show up at tha school 'gain."

"Wouldn't be surprised if Big Sis had him at her place, really." Oz murmurs. "That kid's like a son ta her, or somethin' ta that amount. Don't know how'd she know he was out, but she's got a knack for knowin' things anyway."

Mike snerks, "Knowin' her, how'd you know she didn't do tha pullin' out?"

"That wouldn't surprise me either." Oz grins. "Knowin' her, probably found a way ta sneak him out of there without even dealin' with tha bloody staff."

A slight chuckle emits from Mike as he lifts up his bottle, "Yeah..." Sippity. "Oh, tha other tenant ran in ta tha pop princess 'gain."

"Keepin' them tabloids busy, eh? How'd that go?"

"No 'bloids this time." Mike replies, "She seemed ta be interested in how the music thing was going. Fishin' for somethin' for tha kid to say. Idiot didn't get it though. Ya need ta talk to him 'bout usin' tha obvious steppin' stones ta a record deal."

"...You better be fuckin' kiddin' me with that." Oz growls after a moment. "You sayin' she's basically offerin' a record deal, and he didn't catch onta it?"

"What can I say?" Mike replies, giving a shrug. "Kid don't have a full deck 'cause I got tha other half o' it. If it helps, she didn't flat out say it. Seemed more she was wanting him to ask fer tha help. Oh, ya know he turned down a vacation with her?"

"Do ya want me ta kick him in tha head, or ya think ya can manage that?" Oz dryly remarks. "Ya sure ya ain't got the full bloody deck?"

"Nah, " Mike replies, "He's got some o' my good qualities. Maybe one o' us should tell him it's okay ta take advantage of what publicity ya got from the 'bloids ta secure the deal. Times change. Ain't all 'bout tha' music now."

"I'll tell him next time I see him. Along with a smack ta tha back of tha head." Oz replies, taking another sip of beer. "Think she'll offer again?"

"Bein' that he's tha closest thing she prob'ly has ta help wit' her own, special problems?" Mike asks, "Prob'ly."

"Goody." Oz dryly remarks. "Looks like we won't have to tour as no names this time, huh?"

"No." Mike replies, "Though, be ready fer tha group ta be known as Recalibration. That band Aurora's boyfriend is part of o' ex-boyfriend, dependin' on how they want ta spin it."

"Already got used to tha name change, Drummer Boy. Ain't gonna be no big shock for me, really."

"Ah...right. Already sayin' that." Mike murmurs, "Ya okay wit' him gettin' the press? Las' time I checked it was ya band too."

"Considerin' how it went down last time, think it's fair we got tha trade off. 'Sides, keeps my life simple, for now. Not like I enjoy tha bloody paparazzi waitin' for me everywhere I go, ya know?"

"Black Mariah died when you two did." Mike admits, "Not that I wanted to keep it goin' without ya. Jus' don't go pullin' the same crap on him like ya did on me, gettin' yerself killed fer somethin' stupid."

"Yah, I'll make sure to not get in any cars with drunk drivers again." Oz sarcastically drawls. "Think I learned my lesson last time."

"Jus don't do stupid stuff in general," Mike adds in, "Ya don't make tha' best decisions when drunk. Like, gettin' stabbed and shit. Nothin' worse than goin' out 'cause o yer own stupidity."

"Would be sayin' I wasn't drunk when I got stabbed before, but it ain't tha best argument is it?" Oz smirks. "Ya worry too much. Both of us know I ain't gonna be killed or nothin' anytime soon, so why worry 'bout it?"

"Didn't think my own band mate would murder me and marry my widow but ya know how that turned out." The dead drummer replies softly, glancing towards the bartender to make sure he's out of hearing range, "Not worryin'. Jus' sayin' ya shouldn' cause damn it if history repeats itself, I'm gonna have Rich stayin' tha fuck 'way from Calie."

giving an amused snort, Oz grins. "Yeah, can't say I see Calie being jealous enough ta kill ya, considerin' I ain't ever seen her with any problem gettin' a girl she wants. 'Sides, if he ain't actuallyseein' her, don't see how it could even happen."

"Didn't see it with Frank either."

"Well, since hindsight's 20/20, ya see Calie actin' any kinda suspicious like Frank did?"

"Well ya se-" There is a clunk as the bottle hits the bar as the holder vanishes, leaving Oz with the tab. Guess it's time for Rich's gig.

---

Log. March 7, 2008. Hell's Kitchen bar.

Oh, what a quiet night, considering the area. The stars are out. The night is quiet. Almost peacef - "Oh, God, someone call 911!" Never mind. A variety of screams and frantic shouts about 'stabbed', 'knife', and 'cops' comes from a bar, the window busted out, a barstool outside in the street. Gee, I wonder what could have happened.

It was indeed a quiet night, which for the Bridget returning from a dinner out, was more than enough reason to be happy with the stroll. The screams coming from the bar disturb her thoughts however as she, being still qualified to do emergency medical help, finds herself running towards the establishment to enter.

Well, when she can fight her way through the crowd, she probably won't be please. Leaning back against the bar for support, Oz seems rather immune to the chaos around him, staring wide eyed down at the knife hilt sticking from his chest. As if wondering what the hell it was and how the hell it go there. And whether or not it would be noticeable with the crowd, he seems to be having trouble breathing, the noticeable sound of air flowing through a hole seeping out from around the edges of the knife, blood slowly seeping into his shirt.

"Clear the way, coming through, off duty medic!" Bridget snaps, shoving her way through the group. Upon seeing the source of the commotion she frowns, growing wide-eyed. "oh no..." She turns to three people standing around. Pointing them out "YOU, YOU AND YOU. Call 9-11, give them the address first and tell them we have a stabbing, likely internal bleeding, off duty paramedic on scene, in need of two units." She turns back towards Oz, rushing over to his side, "Get me some towels!"

The dutiful NPCs snapping to it, Oz looks up at Bridget, eyes perhaps a bit too wide, face pale. However, he still manages a trembling, small grin. "Well, this is already goin' better than the last stabbin' ain't it?" He murmurs, voice not very loud at all and wheezing slightly.

Bridget doesn't smile, instead posing Oz in a manner to reduce the stress on the chest area. Eyes seeming to indicate that it is not the case. "Shhh" She hushes, reaching for some of the cleaner towels that the bartender turned up to wrap around the knife, " talking will hurt you more than help."

"Oh, bloody hell, ya aren't gonna pull that out, are ya?" Following instructions? What?

"Shut up!" Bridget snaps, "Are you trying to die faster?!" She looks to the wound, "If I pull it out, you'll bleed quicker. If you talk, it'll become harder to breathe. I'm /trying/ to make it so you have a chance to get to the hospital in time..."

Giving a shaky smirk, it's one that quickly fades. Even with the changes Bridget has made, there's still the sound of a sucking chest wound, the edges of the wound still bleeding freely. "Don't think it really matters if ya help me any, love." Oz murmurs, before starting to cough, a bit of blood bubbling up from the corners of his lips.

"I've bled worse than this and lived," Bridget seethes, applying pressure to the wound, "I'm not giving up on you until there is nothing left to do and you sure as hell better not too." She glances to the crowd, "Where's the ambulance?!"

"Sunset's dead." Oz brings out of left field, voice strained and choked. It's hard to tell if it's from the injuries or the news. "This morning. Got hit by a car. Baby is too."

The medic's head turns at the news, "What?" The frown deepens even more, "Wait, don't answer that. Just shut up and rest."

A person from the crowd finally answers Bridget's question, "It's on the way."

The medic looks over to Oz, "Ok, hold on.... ambulance will be here soon..."

"She told me what you said." Oz continues, more blood gathering at the corners of his lips, breathing sounding very, very bad at this point. "Didn't have ta say it. Never blamed ya for thinkin' that. None of it's true, but didn't blame ya for thinkin' it." Coughing again, Oz's face contorts into a grimace for a moment. "And I ain't real sure it's gonna be soon enough."

"DAMMIT OZ QUIT TALKING!" Bridget snaps, eyes squinting to hold back tears, "It's not over til the fat lady sings and I sure as hell don't see Aretha Franklin warming up here. So just... PLEASE shut up and try to outlast the odds!"

Complying for once, Oz shuts up, head leaning back against the floor. Breathing becoming mroe and mroe shallow, the Irishman's eyes barely open to look over at Bridget. "Ya know I love ya, right?" He asks, barely audible.

Whether it is because of the delivery or of the sounds of the futileness, Bridget's shoulders slump slightly as she looks to Oz's, a look of grief on her face as she reaches a hand into her pocket, pulling out a scapular, placing it on him. Maybe it's not going with the current idea that goes with it, but with one interpretation, it couldn't hurt. "I... love you too." She whispers, voice quivering.

Doing his best at on last grin, Oz's eyes slipped close, one last breath coming from his lips before he stills completely, face going slack, body relaxing.

Feeling the body grow limp, Bridget's eyes widen once more as her hand moves to check his pulse, head tilting to listen for any signs of breathing as well. Numbness sets in as the sounds of an ambulance approaching just fades to nothing in her mind. The sound of the gathered crowd being pushed away... it falls on deaf ears as her eyes close, tears freely flowing. "Eternal rest..." she murmurs, "grant unto him, O Lord,"