November 03, 2002.11.03.02. - hairspray and a lighter [imogen-pack][cont'd]
(imogen)
Sundays are often the slower days, only punctuated by a particularly large crime scene or the occasional unlucky hiker. So she's actually home as James raps on the door. And as he does so, it stays on it's hinges, which is an improvement from the last time he'd been by. Alternately, however, the surface sports a rather new, rather large dent across the front.It appears the good Doctor's door seems to be victim to more than a bit of violence.
The file folder in front of her long since stopped making sense, and the pen had rested by the note pad for at least the last fifteen minutes. Half way through a swallow of beer, her head turns slightly to look at the door as James' fist strikes it.
Right, then. A careless hand flips the folder shut, while the other places the beer on a coaster, and she crosses the living room.
From outside James can hear the click as the dead bolt is opened and can watch the knob turn as the door opens, the good doctor moving half to the side so that the Gnawer can enter if he wants to. No greeting, as her fingers curl along the edged side of the door, her temple leaning against it.
(james)
a brow lifts at the dent
and then the other one joins it to see Imogenlooks like he wasn't the only one that had a bad night
whatever words were going to spill out of his mouth..... stop
jaw lifting to shut
rethink"uhm...... Rune wanted me to give you this."
he holds up the can of mega-hold hairspray
"but..... it takes a little explanation..... and.... I'm waiting for a pizza if you're hungry."
from way back in his mind where he's watching this whole movie
somewhere in there that made sense
he can order a pizza right now
don't ask him to hold an intelligent conversation(imogen)
It's only the faintest echoes of fatigue, the fact she cannot hide the smudges beneath her eyes. The roughness around the edges (we're all a little worn, now) that Imogen shows the slight signs that her door rather oddly declares.An eyebrow arches at the hairspray, one hand reaching up to rake through riotous curls and waves, pushing the vibrant mass over her shoulders while her other hand moves slightly in a small gesture. Her voice echoes it, "C'mon in."
(james)
dreads shake in the half-nod
quietly moving inside the doorhe still looks sleep touseled
rumpled and tense
in that wanting to crawl into himself and turn inside out sort of way
holding the can of spray out to her after the door is closed"Rune says you'd have a lighter.... you know what we were talking about yesterday?"
Everything fell apart again, yesterday
"They don't like fire...."
(imogen)
The door shuts softly behind him, and she turns around, taking the hairspray as it's offered, glancing at it critically. "The leeches?" she says in what seems to be a question, dark blue eyes flicking to him, before she starts to walk around him, heading back into the living room.She waits for his answer, crossing the hard wood floor, to the coffee table, putting down the hair spray and picking up the bottle of beer, waving it at him in question. "Want one?"
(james)
fingers release the bottle as easily as he released Rune's hand, earlier
it's strange what people share, in all their different ways
chin dropping in a nod"Yes, please."
Momma didn't raise an ill-mannered mutt.
Momma raised a murderer.
both questions answered at once
he's slow to shuffle his way across the floor after her
disconnected(imogen)
Her own half full bottle is replaced on the coaster, and she picks up the file folder, tidy and neatly labelled, then the notepad, and takes them with her to the kitchen. She walks away from the fridge and out of sight, then returning, without her work-at-home, walking toward the fridge. She pulls it open, reaching in to rummage for a moment or two, before coming up with a bottle. The door shuts with a muted thump as she turns, walking back toward the living room and the Gnawer that has presumably sat somewhere. Floor. Couch. Wherever.She's dressed in jeans, faded and comfortably fitted over hips and thighs, a few threads of fabric loose along the cuffs to brush silently against the hard wood floor as she walks. A knitted tanktop, which leaves the sinuous curves of her tattoo easily visible as she offers James the beer, holding it by the neck.
"So... what?" she says as he takes it, "You're expectin' somethin' t'happen with the vampires?"
(james)
he sank to the floor
so he could lean against the couch
looking the same as he did yesterday
except maybe a little worse for wear
mechanically reaching for the bottle
Oh, St. James, whatever happend to your Grace?"Thank you."
and this causes him to stop
another one of those silences
except he's not sure exactly what kind this is"Yes. I'm being watched. I'm being played like a sad, sad violin. Decker and Rune aren't too happy about it, haven't heard back from Erik yet. But I got distracted last night when they were talking about what to do."
that last part drifts off
he doesn't like remembering(imogen)
Her thumb runs lightly over her index finger in a movement of which she's probably not even aware, before moving away, to sit on the easy chair in the corner, leaning forward to pick up her own brew, holding it pinched between the fingers of her left hand.He hasn't known her to speak much, to begin with, testimony being several hours of silence when he'd been the one at the motel. The day before had been probably the most words she'd spoken to him, perhaps double the amount of words she'd ever spoken to him before. Without words, it's easy to catch a breath of music from the media centre in the corner, not quite audible beyond a whisp of acoustic, a drone of voice. The chair creaks beneath her as she shifts her weight, and speaks, "Kill them, I'd expect."
He doesn't like remembering. And she doesn't want to know.
(james)
there's..... only a nod
he should have let her get hit
while he is used to her at times chilly silences
it's so strange for him to not have a reply
to not have the normal warm words so ready to give should she want themhe stands, though, unfolding from his place by the couch to hear the knock on the next door over
moving to open this door
exchange a few words with the delivery boy
tip well for making it so fastand a moment later he's leaning a shoulder against the frame of her open door
"Did you want some of the pizza?"
he'll slink back to Rune's to eat if she doesn't
(luc)
"See, man then its just too easy yannow?"Ugh, that New York Accent? Where had the midwestern Galliard picked up--wherever it was it seemed to have stuck. The pointed features angled down at Decker, in the last few days he had yet another unbelieve abler growth spurt, (it seemed that his body had stretched overnight in some gumby-inspired fashion making him look even more an amagamation of bone and wire) as he huffed one hand reaching through to rake through the mess of oil and protein he called his hair.
"--its ALL about the thrill of the hunt, man. You gotta get primal wit' it."
(imo)
One leg tucks beneath her as she watches him walk across the living room, dark eyes following the almost dejected movements of the Gnawer. He speaks, he tips, and he turns to speak to her, asking a question. After a moment, inhaling slowly through her nose she stands, one hand brushing off imaginary dirt from her thigh as the other deposits the beer back on the coaster.Chilly or not, it might be something resembling sympathy that has her nod and say, "Sure," and turn walking into the kitchen to get the plates. Or perhaps she's simply been reminded that she hasn't eaten all day.
(james)
again, that half nod
just enough to make dreads twitch across his shoulders
the slink is turned inwards
creeping back to where he was
sinking down to the floor again
the pizza boxes set on the coffeetableone more round of slugging the beer into an empty stomach
once she's seated
when he holds the open box for her to take steaming choice?
he doesn't really look at her(decker)
The exertion Decker forced on his truck finally made the old lady fall apart three miles from the condo. He'd been out all night, met Lucian around 11am, and started heading back around 7pm. Around 8pm, the truck gave out and simply wouldn't start again. Coulda been worse, one supposes, but coulda been a hell lot better, too.Three miles is a long walk. Three miles is a longer push.
As Lucian circles back to the same old topic again, Decker turns around and puts his back to the tailgate, switching muscle groups. Didn't help that the night's activities left him with bruises and cuts that tear open again under the strain, but pain could be a good thing when it reminded you of release. Crunching bone and flesh giving under your fists. No claws, no teeth. Just knuckles.
"Lissen here," he says, "you wanna steer, you put yer shoulder into the pushin', too." A car whips by them on the highway. "Otherwise you git back here and push from the back while I take the door--" the truck grinds to a stop and Decker grunts as metal digging painfully into his back, "--and quit fuckin around with the gears. Leave it in fuckin neutral, fer fuck's sake!"
(imogen)
Plate handed to him, and she sits again. He is not looking at her, and for a moment she glances at him, before looking away pulling ooey gooey pizza slices from the pie, slapping them on her plate. Resettling again, she balances the plate on her knee. Respecting his silence -- and wrapped in her own.It's not until they've both finished the first round of pizza, and perhaps reaching for a second that she speaks up, eyes not on him, but flickering toward the answering machine in the corner, with it's faint glowing red lights. "Want to talk about it?" 137 messages.
She's making progress.
And her question must seem more than a little shockingly out of character.
(lucian)
"I AM pushing! Dude man, when are you gonna sell this pila' shit?"Okay he wasn't pushing as hard as he could have been. But he can't LET his man think he was a pussy. No way. He was just, you know trying to get his Mac on for chrissakes.
"Fuck it goes SLOWER in neutral."
And feeling ther ground swell of rage, a push bully'sd forth. Why did everyone HAVE to anatgonize him? Why did he hafta pack with a bunch of fostern, anyway?
Sheeeit.
(james)
as with everything
the Gnawer inhales it
his stomach wouldn't know if he sent down pieces chewed more than five times
he's gone through a good seven or eight slices
working on the breadstick crust
and her question actually gets him to stop chewingshocking indeed
between waking up in Rune's bed
and this?
seems he knows where the night is goinghe's polite enough to swallow and not gape
though perhaps.... this is the first time his eyes actually make the effort to look up to hers
and not avoid them"Do you really want to hear it?"
(decker)
"When you buy me a new one," snaps Decker from the back. He doesn't just feel Lucian's swell of rage: he feels a fuckin' swell in the road. Just. PEACHY. Now he had to push uphill. "Push harder. Let's git some momentum goin' so yer pansy muscles don't crap out halfway up."There's silence - the grunting, panting sort - while the two heave the damn pile of scrap metal up the hill. Then it's rolling down the other side, too damn fast - "Put the fuckin' brakes on! Christ! Stop it!" - making the two of them scramble after it to keep the old blue Ford from spinning out of control like a runaway heifer.
When it's under control again, they've only got a half-mile left to go. Thankfully.
(imogen)
She has an unerring ability to meet a Garou's eyes. His. Decker's. When he stops avoiding them for that moment, she is looking back, a silent blue eyed look.She leans forward, picking up one of two pieces left, placing it on her plate, "It doesn't matter if I want to hear it, or not. It's if you need to tell it," she says simply, her hand reaching up to rub at the back of her neck, a faint crackpop of her vertebrae.
(decker)
Decker switches around again as his back starts to tire, bracing his hands on the tailgate and shoving forward with his head down and feet planted, rather like a bull locking horns. A glance up at Lucian, blinking a drop of sweat out of his eyes - "We got half a mile to go, boy. You givin' up on me? Ain't no girl gonna take up a quitter."Nothing like an attack on the old Get pride. Besides, the truck was practically family by now. The trailer was nothing but a sardine can to live in, but the truck: he had a passing fondness for the big blue rustbucket.
(lucian)
Grrr."Shut the fuck up."
And he keeps on pushing. His stearing hand starting to tremble as his body does under the strain of the heavy automobile. In fact it inspires a shakily sung tune:
"Oh lord.. wonchya buy my a Mercedes benz, My asshole mate's car will not start again, I triiied to tell to point out he's wrong--just' left singing country, jus' left wit' mah' soooong."
(decker)
"Watch yer mouth, Luc," slurs Decker from around back, not so much bristling as he is slipping into a lazy contempt. That's the way he goes when his temper starts to wear a little thin from the fuck-yous every other minute. When Dominic starts taking pictures, Decker fits his shoulder against the tailgate and raises his middle finger at Dominic just in time for that polite gesture to get in on the last picture.A sullen silence. If they needed help, Decker wasn't going to be the one to ask for it.
(james)
he reaches for the last slice
quietly consuming about half of it in thought
this might be another of those I'll tell you so you can tell me I'm not crazy conversations between them"I met a little girl last night., Dimmy. Lost. Hurt. Afraid. She gave me a picture that Mr. Kitty gave to her. It happened to be of me, earlier that night, and it had the words 'I can see you' written on it. Now, I know Bastion is following me, keeping an eye on me, so it's not as surprising now as I was last night. But it gets stranger...."
for drama or that the slice is getting cold
he finishes another few bites
and all but the last gulp of that beer"... when Rune and I took her to the hospital that her wristband says she was from, they, in turn, though she was my child and said that I had checked her out just a few hours before. I know both of those aren't true. Time on the discharge sheet was when I was with you in the car. And she can't be my daughter.... my little girl died two years ago."
unborn
but he doesn't say it
the knife twists deeper"After sheer madness, we end up with the kid again. We're taking her to some friends Rune has in New York that shelter the abused, pull over at a rest stop to make the phone call rather than show up unannounced, and Dimmy... of all things.... looks into my eyes. and speaks. into. my. mind."
a tight, tight smile
I'll take my white jacket in a size large, please"About my daughter. Then dissa-fuckin-pears out of the car. Next thing I remember I wake up in Rune's bed barely an hour ago."
(luc)
Oh those last twanging notes.More pushing and grunting and he watches waiting for Decker to say something to the man. (Fuck yes, we need help.) And watching the middle finger he all but has a conniption.
"If you could give us a hand it'd be cool." His head inclines to where decker was push--no way he was going to give up the CHOICE spot of steering--no matter how bad his hands were shaking.
(imo)
She is silent through the long waits and pauses for drama or for food, waiting him out. She doesn't have much to say, anyways. He eats the last of his pizza, and she offers him the last piece she has, either deciding she's not hungry or that he needs it more.She listens to the quiet words, the half insanity that cannot be true, just like werewolves and vampires cannot be true, her thumb running lightly acrossl her index finger, over the faint white depression of an old scar.
A pause. A wait. "In your mind... as in... speaking in your head... or just knowin' things she shouldn't?"
(decker)
Decker fixes Dominic with a sullen stare all the way over, but does (deign to) move over when the man comes to help. Every little bit did make a difference. The truck goes that much faster, and the condo seems that much closer.When they get to the turn, Decker breaks the silence at last, "'S in here. Luc, turn right here."
(james)
he takes the last part of her piece with a nod
far be it from him to turn down food
that polished offhe actually gets up this time, reaching for her place and his own, and taking them into the kitchen to place in the sink
"Want another beer?"
leaving the other pizza box closed for whenever Rune gets back
it's only when he's seated infront of the couch again that he returns to the matter at hand
offering her beer if she wanted another one
he did
sighing"Both. She couldn't have known my girl died. Whatever she was.... she wasn't human either."
(decker)
Seems like he's a nice guy, and Decker might be just a little ashamed of his behavior, but no apology comes. Those are as rare as rain in the desert. So the Modi pushes in silence, muscles straining against the deadweight that seems so much heavier now than it did three miles ago. His silence is an oppressive thing; a barely-muted, unnatural sort of anger cycles through him with a humming regularity not unlike a turbine. When he turns around again to put his back to the tailgate, he nods up at Dominic's camera."You some sorta picture-taker?" He didn't like photographers much these days, given a slew of stalker-pictures getting sent him and his pack.
(luc)
And the steering wheel is turned (the truck seems THAT much havier) slowing trwisting its way about the intersection--god this was grueling. Small beads of perspiration have formed and swell further under his attempts.(dominic)
*He grunts really putting his back into it. Remembering having to push a toyota with a shot out fanblade half across Kosovo* Photo Journalist actually. I just got a touch tired of gettin' my ass shot off and came to the states a while and I"m frelancing as a photographer.(spit)
::in the alley perched on the dumpster again. Waiting quietly..stay perfectly still...They wont find you...right?
Right? Right?
Ok...minutes that linger and feel like hours. Barely taking breaths in fear he can be heard...
Black spikey hair that's in need of a haircut tipped with purple dye. The black leather jacket hangs over the black shirt. Denim jeans with the knees worn right out...He glances at his watch..it had been long enough...jumping from his perch he lands on the concrete thud Slowly making his way to the mouth of the alley where he peers around the corner::(decker)
The torque of the turn doesn't help things, no. Decker, with his back against the truck, dashes sweat out of his eyes. He gave up wiping the trickles down his neck a long time ago. Last night when he left, his clothes were clean and so was he. By this time, they're back the way they usually are: mudstained, bloodstained, grass-stained, oilstained. Looks like he got into a knock-down drag-out fight with a cyborg.Squint. "Hell's a photojournalist?"
(imogen)
A nod of her head acknowledges that yes, she'll take another beer, one hand dragging through her hair as he walks away, eyes settling on the hair spray, picking it up and absently reading the labels of directions.No directions on how to kill vampires. Though that one is pretty obvious.
He offers the beer, and she takes it, twisting the cap off with a twist of her wrist and a hiss of trapped air. Her teeth run lightly across her lower lip as he speaks, an eyebrow lifting slightly.
"I'm sorry."
It's the second time he's heard that today. After a beat of silence, "Have you told anyone else that?"
(dom)
*He pushes it though the turn.* Crazy fuckers that go into warzones.. or giant forrest fires.. up risings and the like to get the information out to the world.(james)
"So am I."it's the second time he's regretted it tonight
it's the millionth time in the last two years
it's not even the end of the vicious cycle
but a half curved smile is offered before he drowns it behind the beer"Rune."
in that quintissential moment of shared greif
for things they never really admitted
definitely not to each other
maybe not even to themselves"I don't know where the others are."
by the way he's going through those beers
for a guy that doesn't drink
doesn't look like he's planning on driving anywhere to go search(rune)
Headlights slice across the old blue rustbucket - brights - then flare brighter and then settle down to a more reasonable level of glare. It's a busy road, and this in itself is not unusual.What is unusual is that the Z3 slows rather than simply shooting past in the left lane. It might take Decker a moment or three to recognize it, since the top is actually up in a concession to the crap weather that defines Jersey in November.
Beep. Beep. ...and Rune waves.
(decker)
"Oh." Not much to say to that. And then - beepbeep, vrrom, there goes Rune. How did he know? R U NE1.Yes, he's someone. He's her fuckin' packmate, that's who he was.
"Fuckin' bitch," fumes Decker, watching the BMW rocket by while he and Dominic shoved the hunk of junk through another turn. Another half-block, and it's time for the real challenge: speed bumps in the parking lot.
[and stopping the cnp of all posts, paring down to just james and imogen](imogen)
She watches him down the beer, her weight shifting in the chair, tucking her legs so she sits indian style, taking several swallows of beer. She is not one to comment on drinking habits.She is silent for a long moment, inhaling slowly through her nose, and then exhaling a soft expellation of air. She would appreciate a cigarette right now. A small slight hand gesture, in place of words.
She doesn't know what to say.
(james)
he? would appreciate a huge friggen joint and enough rotgut to make even his liver run screaming
but he'll settle for the beer
which he finishes in silence
quicklyhe's lost in a world that was buried two years ago
unsure of what to say
unsure of what to do
knowing... somehow... he's in over his head
way overand how the hell did Bastion suddenly look like Aslan??
strange as it is
he appreciates the silent company(imogen)
She sits and finishes her beer. Quiet. Silence. It's hard to say whether or not she's there for him, but she is most certainly there. In the silence, he can hear that whatever cd that was playing has ended. It's truly quiet.As she puts her beer down, empty, the answering machine in the corner whirrs, clicking into action. The electronic timer goes from 136 to 137, a silent red change. After a moment, she stands, her movements breaking the quiet tableau of silence, her restlessness (or her addiction) getting the better of her.
"I'm going out for a smoke," she says, walking over to the small corner table, opening the drawer and rummaging through it with one hand, while the other absently picks at a fresh knick in the wood. Package found, she starts to walk toward the front door.
(james)
she's there
and that's what counted, then
just the fact that he wasn't sitting alone in a silent roomwhen she speaks, his gaze snaps up
dark umber pools in his eyes drifting to watch her, the pick at the table, the pack of smokes in her hand"Hey... you mind if I....?"
long lean body starting to raise a little
remember last night? when you crouched like this? going to save the little girl? shoudl you have really dont that.....tsk tsk
he doesn't smoke
he doesn't drink either
since he's doing one he might as well do the other
and at least it gives him something to do with his hands(imogen)
Since she's the one providing the booze and smokes, it would be hypocritical to say something; even if he is doing it because of emotional turmoil. After all, she's at the very least matched him bottle for bottle, never mind the liklihood that the first beer he saw her finish was not likely her first beer of the day.A slight roll of slender shoulders, "No, I don't... But no smoking in here." Grabbing keys from a coat pocket, and pulling open the door, she steps out into the rather cold night air without adding anything to her apparel.
Once outside, pulling the dented door shut behind James, she taps out a cigarette, and lights it, before offering him the cheap yellow bic and the long cancer stick, held flat in an open palm.
(james)
the Gnawer unfolds completely
tall, lanky, the strength in him is hidden, subtle
you don't know it's there until it's too latewhen the door shuts behind him
he moves to lean against a wall
something in him just unable to put his back to the world outside of the balcony
shoulders rolling in all attempts to relaxtaking the smoke and lighter with a soft smile
"Thanks....."
handing the lighter back on exhale
lifting the current beer in hand in a silent toast"... for this, too. I'd offer to buy the next round, but I don't have an ID to buy it with."
(imogen)
Her eyes twitch toward the gathering near Rune's Beemer and the silver SUV, Decker's derelict truck. Exhale of smoke in a slow steady stream, as she placels the cigarette between her lips, dropping down to sit on the lounge chair, bare feet quiet against the wood of the balcony. It's cool out; her skin has risen in goose flesh across her bare arms.Inhaling on the filter, the ember flickering brighter as she draws smoke into her lungs. Pause, and a slow exhale of grey cancerous fumes before she answers him, "Never mind it," she says in quiet accented tones, "I can always buy more beer." She stretches out an arm, plucking the ashtray from the balcony railing, and placing it on the wooden frame of the lounge chair, within reach of the Gnawer. Ash flicks into the sooty centre, and then the cigarette is returned between lips.
(james)
it's just about...
.... now
that he takes in the gathering around the car
well... that will answer where the pack is
or most of itbut he doesn't make a move to go join them
he also counts several strangersafter another draw of fumes into his lungs
you can tell what he normally smokes
hand cupping over the Camel to withdraw and flick with ring finger"Why is it...."
sighed on an exhale
smoke curling around the jungle vines of hair flopped about his face
he's been thinking entirely too much lately"..... I always seem to be telling you the crazy stories first?"
(imogen)
A breath of a chuckle, coloured grey with smoke as she looks up from a knot in the balcony wood, turning to glance at the bone gnawer. A faint look of amusement, as she tilts her head slightly, an eyebrow arching, "Because if I actually decide you need a room in a loony bin, there's a chance nobody would believe me?"It's safer to tell her these things. She doesn't have as much say. Theoretically.
(james)
a brow lifts
caught off guard by that chuckle
he actually looks over with a bit of a boyish reply grin
so it seems he can still smile"Either that.... or they'd set you up in the room next door?"
there's a chance that grin widens
since they already are proverbial neighbors
but it's covered with another drag(imogen)
"Fuck," she breathes, waving her cigarette to encompass the world she lives in, "Can't be all that much worse than this... food would probably be better, too."She pulls the cigarette from her lips again, eyeing it thoughtfully as she exhales, "No cigarettes, though. Or beer." Ash is tapped into the tray and the cigarette is replaced in her mouth.
(james)
there's that warm laughter again
soft, low, but it's there"They let you smoke, but no beer.... and you'd probably have neighbors on both sides raving about bloodsucking beasties that tapdance around in their minds, belching deepest, darkest secrets out to the Gaia forsaken world.... not just one."
smirked
sneered"So I guess you won't be reporting me."
smiled
(imogen)
She shakes her head, slightly, riotious hair falling forward to obscure her face for a moment, a curtain of roan and auburn, red and blonde. It's a fraction of a second, before her head lifts again, hand pushing the strands away from her fine boned features, speaking around the filter, "No, no reporting."Amusement fades. "I likely won't even mention it to anybody, if you haven't decided you're going to, anyways. It's up to you."
(james)
his chin drops into a nod
casting a half-grin once again"That's probably another reason.... I'll tell the others at some point."
when he's ready
if he's ready
though he'll probably skip around the details just the same
watching Decker approach - there's idle wonder if he's going to get reamed for this, too
a glance
snubbing out what's left of the cigarette before it burns to filter
swilling back the remnants of the beerthanks
(imogen)
She watches Decker pass near her balcony, unfathomable eyes following the frame of the Fenrir. The girl who follows is barely glanced at, as her attention returns to James, taking one final inhale on the cigarette, and stubbing it out in the tray to leave it beside the corpse of James's finished cigarette."Yeah." she acknowledges, without further comment. When he tells them. If he tells them. A vague flicker of her mind questions if it might be important to mention it, then dismisses it. Eyes lift to watch Kimber depart from the neighbouring porch and begin to walk down the stairs.
(james)
there's a bit of a nod
again
dreadlocks just skimming over his shoulders
finally pulling away from the wall
he just feels like he's wasting her time"Thanks for the beer and the company, Imogen."
murmured a bit
he picks up the beer bottle to deposit in the trash on his way out and turns for the door to go back in and grab the other pizza(imogen)
She watches him move away from the wall, nods slightly as he thanks her, tucking chilled feet beneath her, as she remains sitting where she is. "Any time," she answers quietly, picking up the pack, and beginning to tap out another cigarette, remaining outside in the cool air.(james)
he..... just shuts the door behind him
tossing the beer
gathering the still warm pizza box
then quietly lets himself back out to go next door
and back into Rune's
pizza slid onto the breakfast counter
and he rummages for another beer
turning to kick off the unlaced Cochrans
deposit self on couch(imogen)
She's smoking again as James leaves, barely looking up as he departs, eyes swept to some warping in the balcony wood, her free right hand rubbing the bare and cool flesh of her tattooed arm.Grey smoke spills from her lips as she exhales, her hand stopping it's warming movement for a moment, fingers obscuring the sinuous curve of the brand for a moment before dropping away, laying curled at her knee.
(decker)
James hits the couch right as Decker comes out of the shower, all cleaned up again. We'll see how long it lasts this time. Rubbing a towel over the sandpaper bristle he calls hair, the Modi comes up the hall, stops at the entrance to the living room, and lets the towel slide off his head like a hood.A beat. "Talkin' to Imogen, huh?"
White shirt, khaki cargoes, shitkicker boots. Unreadable grey eyes, set jaw, and a white towel pooled across shoulders like a young bull's. Another beat. Then he pulls the towel off and comes toward (at) James.
Stops a foot away.
Drops the towel on the couch.
Tension bleeds like a wound....and then it ebbs, if only for now. He gets a good look at his packmate and a frown flickers over his brow. "Look like shit." Pack bonds wrestle with ungrounded suspicion. "Rune told me what happened 'fore you woke up. Git some R&R."
Decker heads out.
(rune)
Up the walkway, into the apartment (door's unlocked), through the foyer (tossing her coat onto the table) and back into the living room goes, swinging her shopping bag the whole way, swinging past Decker with a grunt of greeting. See? Rune's learning Fenrir, one of the most difficult languages in the universe to master. She tosses it onto the breakfast bar, and blinks at James sitting on her couch.No television. No playstation. No music.
"You look like hell," she says, unconsciously echoing Decker. Keys clatter over the breakfast bar, following the tumble of plastic bottles and cosmetics in their mesh bag. "Wanna go out and get fucked up?"
(james)
he was fairly convinced, earlier, he looked like a train wreck staggering about on two legs
with two confirmations in less that two minutes
he's still convincedeyes of dark umber snap up to Decker's
brow lifting
yep, he was right on that earlier assumption
he seriously needs to reconsider the consequences of talking to people
perhaps he, too, should resort to a language of grunts and glares
screw communication
it just gets him in troublebut his attention wanes to Rune
"Sure."
unfolding to stand
head tilting to drain the rest of the bottle"Used the Master Card..... there's another pizza over there for later...." a pause ".... I don't have ID though."
(rune)
"Doesn't matter," Rune shrugs in response, the remnants of (yes) a smirk still lingering at corners of her red mouth. "I know someone who can handle that."Of course she does.
Another glance - appraising this time, rather than merely cursory - before she continues. "You wanna grab a shower, or you ready to go?"
(james)
at her appraisal
he looks down, too
probably should"Yea.... gimme five."
while wandering back towards the shower
he wonders where she's planning on taking him
not like he has anything remotely nice to wear(rune)
They'll make an interesting pair, these two: the raggedy, teetotaling (mostly) Gnawer, and the self-indulgent Glasswalker lush. While James showers, Rune rustles through her cosmetics spends five minutes primping. When he returns, her lipstick is freshly re-applied, and her dark eyes are darker than ever, long lashes made sooty by a fresh application of expensive mascara.She doesn't say anything when he returns. She doesn't say anything at all, right now. She just turns and begins to walk, pausing until he falls in step with her, and then heads out: out the door, out of the parking lot, out into the night. First stop: ID for James, chronic for the pack. Second stop: oblivion.
Posted by james at November 03, 2002 12:00 AM
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