name: Scarlett Lynn Brenner
style: casual, sporty, semi-grungey, comfortable
bio: Scarlett was born and raised in the very city of Boston. She even has that wonderful New England accent, but please, don't ask her to "pahk the cah at hahvahd yahd." Scarlett's related to the Kennedy's on her mom's side and her dad's family is part-owners of the New England Patriots, but you'd never guess she's apart of that influential, rich-out-the-wazzoo lifestyle. She's a wild and free spirit who loves to have fun and enjoys being around people. Scarlett is what you call a social butterfly. She will strike up a conversation with anyone. She's pretty easy-going and can talk about anything. Scarlett enjoys hitting the pubs with her guy friends or catching the latest Red Sox game at Fenway. Actually, she could definitely be labeled as a guy's girl, since most of her friends are, in fact, guys. She claims they don't "have drama." Scarlett is passionate about two things: medicine and Boston sports. For the first, she's currently a medical student at Harvard Med and works part time as a lab assistant for freshman chemistry students. And the second, well, don't ever say anything bad against her teams (especially Dustin Pedroia) because she will trash-talk you right out the door. Scarlett loves visiting the Museum of Fine Arts and spends most of her time studying or interning at Mass. General. Her Saturdays are reserved for the farmer's market in the North End. But Saturday nights, you'll find her at the local bar drinking every guy under the table, because she can. As for her love life, she keeps things pretty casual. She hasn't had a steady relationship since freshman year of college, but that doesn't seem to phase her. She just has her best friend, Bret, to keep her company. They're incredibly close and together, they're a force to be reckoned with. But it's so blatantly obvious to everyone around them, even themselves, that they share an intense chemistry.
occupation: med school student / chem lab assistant
music: AC/DC, Birdy, Bon Jovi, Ed Sheeran, Sigur Ros, & Sleigh Bells
likes: all Boston sports teams, drinking games, fine art, chai tea, yoga, & big hats.
dislikes: the Yankees, tourists, getting anything lower than a B, uptight people, Bobby Valentine, & chipped nail polish
looks: Nina Dobrev
status: single, but sharing intense chemistry with her best friend, Bret.
- - - -
- - - -
"Ah, my best men," Nick saluted, squeezing into the already crowded booth at Jerry Remmy's an hour later. It was a classic Saturday night staple for the lot of them--Nick, Hal, Jacob, Parker, Bret, and Scar--to have a celebratory 'cheers to the weekend' get-together.
"I'll drink to that," Scar smiled, raising her half-finished Heineken in the air. The boys followed suit, polishing off their drinks.
"Come on, come on!" she muttered, gripping her empty beer bottle. She tapped her foot nervously against the flooring as she watched the televised airing of the latest Red Sox game. Her beloved Dustin Pedroia was up at bat.
All six of them watched anxiously. And then a loud guttural groan could be heard coming from Hal, Nick, and herself.
"Nah! Come on!" she screamed, "That was totally a foul!" Scarlett waved her hand at the screen in anger.
"What the hell is Valentine doing?" Nick asked.
"Being an idiot, that's what," she added. "You can't change your star player half way through the sixth inning." She swore loudly.
"Hey!" Bret called, distracting them from the game. "We'll have another round. Wait, actually, make that six tequilas," he turned to the waitress, smiling, and shouted over the music and blaring sports channels debuting the current Red Sox vs. Rangers game. She gave a curt nod and headed off to the bar.
Scarlett grinned and crossed her fingers, resting her chin atop of them. "Ooh, fancy. What's the occasion?" she asked.
"Well, now that we're all gathered here," he glanced at Nick in a you-finally-arrived-an-hour-late look, "I think it's a good time to announce that you are all looking at the new rookie for the Bruins."
"Shit! No way. That's wicked awesome!" Scar clapped Bret on the back, grinning happily.
There was a cordial mutter of 'congratulations' and 'good goings' passed around the table until the waitress arrived back with the tequilas.
Jacob was the first to raise his shot glass.
"To the Bruins! And hear's hoping for a successful year where Bret won't get beaten up too badly," he smirked.
"To the Bruins and Bret." Scarlett added along, slinging the shot--and her head--back. The collective sound of glass hitting the wooden table echoed for a few seconds as they all puckered and gasped and made different faces.
Scarlett gave a glance to her brother, Hal, who seemed preoccupied with watching the game, then turned back to the guys and joined in on their conversation.
"Hell yeah!" she heard her brother yell.
Scarlett whipped her head around, befuddled. "What?"
"Salty hit a homer," he replied, pointing at the tv screen.
There was a loud roar in the bar that soon followed.
"Red Sox win again. 13-8...," the announcers voice commentated, but the rest could not be made out from all of the shouting and yells.
"Another round of shots, please!" Scarlett called to the waitress.
"Feeling like getting hammered tonight, eh Scar?" her friend Parker asked.
"It's a celebratory type of night, but nope, not happening. And you know damn well that I can drink you all under the table," she replied back smugly.
Parker scoffed. "Cocky, much?"
With a content grin, Scarlett replied, "Very."
"Aha, we'll see about that, Scar."
"Shut up and drink your tequila. The sooner I wipe your sorry ass off the table, the better." And with that, she tossed back another tequila. All the boys except for Jacob and Hal followed.
"Yeah, I'm with Scar on this one," Hal added, turning around momentarily from the post-game interviews.
"Has this face ever stirred you wrong?" Bret asked, holding Scarlett by the cheeks so that her lips puckered out like a fish. Se giggled and swatted his hand away.
"Bullshit," Parker swore.
Scarlett gave a chuckle. "Don't make me remind you of the San Fran vacation of '09. The dancing? The shooters? Me and Bret carrying you home on our backs because you decided you were going to break both your legs jumping off the pier?"
"For the sea lions," Bret added in.
The guys chuckled and Bret held a nostalgic look.
"Now that was a wild time," he added.
Scarlett shrugged her shoulders and grinned happily. She then accepted another round of shots that this time Nick had ordered and at the count of three, followed by knocking it down.
- - - -
[[and I just /had/ to use Chris as her love interest/best friend because he's from Boston and has that adorable accent every so often. and i ran into him once in boston. which was pretty cool (; ]]
[[and last note, i swear. props to you if you get the title's reference (; ]]