Participants:
| Scene Title | Drinking And Dialing |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Fedor's gone, Abby's in a foul mood, Xiu's in a foul mood. Drinking seems to be the answer to pass time away. This eventually leads to tattoo's blue hair, and drunk dialing. |
| Date | June 14, 2009 |
Confucius Plaza: Xiulan's Apartment
To say this apartment is on the smaller side would be an understatement at best. Even so, the furniture has been artistically arranged to make the most of a very tight space. The walls have been hung with colorful panels of Chinese silk, tightly woven gold cord draped to create a temple-like appeal. In the center of the room an ornately woven has been piled high with pillows, the plush surfaces arranged in a semi-circle around a low, round coffee table. Along the far wall, a bookshelf plays host to numerous art books and supplies, an easel with a painting in progress standing slightly to the left. On the northern face of the main room an archway leads into a narrow kitchen. Bunches of dried herbs can be seen hanging as one peers inside. To the left of the kitchen, a narrow hallway leads to the bedroom and bath, the walls adorned with hung panels of silk like the living room.
Fedor's gone, which leave Xiulan and Abby alone in the apartment in Chinatown. The urge to go out and have a drink having subsided when one remembers that at any time, Arthur Petrelli or whomever he sends, might be coming for Xiulan and whatever nasty secret that she's not divulging.
Both are in need of something for the nerves and since little white pills are at home, it's the chinese woman's brainchild that they revert to the good old fashioned back up.
Alcohol.
"I never realized I had so much booze in the house," Xiulan calls from the kitchen. And, hand in hand with her words come the telltale sound of bottles rattling. By the time the artist reemerges she is carrying a dinner tray with two half bottles of scotch, one full bottle of scotch, a nearly full bottle of whiskey and a completely full bottle of vodka. Alongside the selection of boozes rests a 2 liter bottle of Pepsi, a pitcher of orange juice and two very tall glasses. "And I swear to god, if /anyone/ else decides to show up and tell me what to do, I am going to shoot them." And she has an AK-47, so. It is as she sits the tray of booze down, that she dips her chin toward Abby and braces her hands on hips. "Set us up, I'm gonna dig out that nail polish."
"You.. are doing, what I and Liz told you to do" Abby does point out, favoring her right wrist. The half full bottles are grabbed one by one with her left hand, putting everything in this spot and then that spot on the floor. Her eyes rimmed red that is over time fading from the encounter with Fedor in the living room. The large gun is eye'd a little more now. A shotgun, she can fathom. A Russian weapon that size and style. Has to have been Fedor's. "Think he broke my wrist" Sure feels like it. "We have.. the stuff for… jack and cokes, and screwdrivers" Says the former bartender now personal… bartender? "Or straight up. Flint like it straight up on the rocks"
"Straight-up," Xiulan decides as she pads across the room and snags a small wooden box with various shades of nail polish in it. "You know," she observes. "I don't even know why I have this. I mean, really, I can make my nails any color I want…" Confused by the presence of the cosmetics and thought that led to her buying them, she finally shakes her head and sets the selection on the floor next to Abby's hip. "I'll grab some ice, or something to put on that." They could go to the emergency room, but that might not be the wisest course of action. "If it's broken it's going to need to be set," she notes as she vanishes back into the kitchen.
Or if she had her gift, she wouldn't be needing Ice. "I can call Flint later. Or we can go to Little Italy. Dr. Pepper can look at it. If it is, it is" She can wriggle her fingers though, that's good right? Whiskey straight up. The bottle that's already half used is opened, wedging it between her knees, unscrewing the cap. You learn to use both hands in the bar, that's for sure and she's pouring a couple fingers of the liquid into both glasses. She's committed to getting drunk tonight. Not so drunk mind you that she can't hit the panic button. "Maybe.. because you would have people over and wanted to paint their nails and don't want to run around for a month or so with purple nails that didn't look like it was nailpolish?
"Okay, I'll go with that as a logical choice of reasons." Grinning wryly as she emerges from the kitchen, Xiulan lightly clears her throat as she hefts a small bag of frozen peas. "This is all I got, I forgot to fill the ice tray." Dropping the bag alongside Abigail, she winces slightly as she gets gingerly down to sit on the floor with her back against the couch. "I don't mind if you want to call Flint," she admits. "I can always find a reason to go sit on the roof for a couple of hours."
"I wouldn't actually bother.. Flint" Not having the ability doesn't change how she feels about using it on herself. "He's got other things to worry about" The peas are taken, traded for the glass of whiskey as she parks beside Xiulan. Pea's settled over right wrist, her own whiskey glass in her other hand. "So" She looks over to the other woman. "How's you're day so far?" Stupid question, but, you know, oh so appropriate.
"Fantastic," Xiulan snorts. And the snort is followed by her raising the glass and tossing back the entirety of the contents in one long swallow. It burns. But, it burns in that pleasant sort of way that promises things are about to get a whole lot better. "You know," she points out as she sets the glass down and goes about the business of refilling it. "I didn't even know any of these people existed a few months ago." Chuckling quietly, she gives a slow shake of her head while raising the glass for another swallow. "Now I seem to be pissing off most of them." It's fun, really. No. Really. "I think you /should/ bother Flint," she observes as the whiskey burns a path to her gut. "He'd probably love it if you bothered him."
"That's how it is Xiu" Not all of Abby's goes down the first time around. SHe's not Xiu, It burns just the same and causes the blonde to cough, back of her hand to her mouth, glass hiding her face as it scrunches up. The smell itself reminds her of said man. The whiskey that is. "You're just.. yourself one day and then you do something and suddenly there's this whole other part to Manhattan that you never knew existed. Phoenix, Vanguard, Ferryman. Everywhere you turn there they are, crawling out of the woodwork. St Johns? Ferryman" Abby nods her head. There's no comment about Flint, just her choking down the last half of her drink.
"Well, they need to crawl back into their hole," Sprawling on her side, Xiulan rolls her eyes, taking another long swallow of the scotch before shrugging. "I mean, apparently, I'm a spy now. I didn't know I was a spy. I thought I was Triad. Apparently, I'm a spy, though." Yes, she's rambling, although the rambling trails off in favor of the scotch in her glass. Hey, she's maybe 90lbs soaking wet, it isn't going to take a lot to get her hammered. "…. Ugh. So." She nudges Abby lightly in the hip. "You should call Flint." Does she know Flint? She's not sure. Heck with it, take another drink. "You should drink more then call Flint."
"You're Triad?" She had mentioned something about that. "Pariah, Phoenix, Ferryman, Vanguard, Staten Island, Triad! Now, Now i have had my hands in nearly everything" She holds her glass out for Xiulan to fill, a nod to the orange juice and vodka. "He's probably out in Staten Island. Be hours before he would be able to get anywhere. He's babysitting Eileen. I think. I hope he's not healing her. biiiiig boom" There's a corner of her mouth that turns up as she looks at her feet. "I'm dating Victor. Friend. I'm giving him a chance. Except.." Abby looks over. "Except, see he took me on a first date to the park, to try and find out my favorite fruit right?"
Vodka and orange juice go into Abby's glass. Mind you, it is a three to one ratio in favor of the vodka, but still. "Yes, I am triad," Xiulan laughs. "I thought you knew that, Abigail." At the mention of the date, she takes a swallow of her own glass, gesturing for Abby to continue with her free hand. "Eileen?"
"That's right, you told me that. No one in chinatown would hurt you in the middle of Triad territory. Guess we know that's not really all the way true now huh?" There's a soft thank you when the other woman fills her cup up. "Eileen. Eileen who was vanguard. Eileen who I've saved.. two times? Three? Dunno. Sometimes I loose track. She used to be able to talk to birds. Now, now she does something else. Tyler Case got to her." Vodka and OJ, she can stomach that better and a big mouthful is taken, easily swallowed even though it's heavy on the V. "I like Eileen. She came looking for me on Staten"
"Well sure," Xiulan admits. "I got hurt, but it was by leadership and for a good cause." John Logan dead. Taking another sip of her scotch, she wrinkles her nose and peers at the glass for a few long moments in silence. "I don't know her. I don't know a lot of people," she admits. It is as she glances up that she asks curiously. "Vanguard?"
"Vanguard" Another few quick gulps of the alcohol. "They were, people who.. back in January, that worked under a man named Kazimir Volken. Remember the bridge and the uhmm… Electrical plant that went KABOOSH?" There's sound effects to that last word. "yeah. That was vanguard. Only, you know, a bunch of them defected at the last moment and they helped. That's where I killed someone. I just prayed to god and.." Up comes her right hand, pea's sliding off as she imitates what she did that day. "He turned to ash. They couldn't release this virus they wanted to. Would kill 95 percent of the world. I got the anti-bodies to that in me. Teo shot me up with it ahead of time so that if we failed, we could totally take Kazimir down another day"
"Oooh." Blinking once, Xiulan finishes off her second glass, fiddling with it while considering whether or not drink more. "I guess I've been pretty sheltered," she admits. "Until I met Magnes and then you and Richard, I pretty much went to work, came home and kept my head down hoping the Ye siblings wouldn't notice me." Frowning faintly, she shakes her head and reaches for the scotch. "Oh well, at least things are more interesting then they were." Pausing as the scotch splashes into her glass, she slants a glance up at Abby and notes. "You were going to tell me about what Magnes was into?"
"I'm not drunk enough to not remember telling you that" She looks at Xiulan. "Different question please"
"Can you blame me for asking?" Smirking thinly, Xiulan lets it go and takes another swallow of scotch. It is as she lowers the glass that she rests her cheek against the back of one hand. "So, what do you think I should do, Abigail?" With what, Xiu? "I mean, with all of this…"
"No, No xiulan, I cannot blame you. I don't rightly know what he's up to. He just said that he was going away to train for a bit" But the petite woman is asking her more stuff and she listens, in as much as the alcohol buzz running through her is letting her. "With the black and blue all over your skin? Or the secret that you and Richard are taking to the grave? Or do you mean you and Richard, Richard and Liz. If it's any consolation, she has another guy too."
"All of the above," Xiulan admits. "Except the bruises, I am fine with the bruises." Another swallow of scotch is taken before the artist peers into her glass. "I know I should know better then to fall in love with Richard," she murmurs. "Or I don't. I mean, I have. I just think he'd be very -pissed- off if he knew that, you know?" She glances up at Abby to see if she's following. Granted, Xiulan is not entirely clear that she is following herself, herself. "I need to drink more, I think." A pause follows during which she finishes off the booze in her glass. "So tell me about Arthur Petrelli?"
"A man who apparently.. takes gifts with a touch. Go figure. He is.. the father of the current president. Oh! Who.. is evolved! Did you know that? Yup. He's evolved. So's his brother. But He's apparently.. I don't know, I got bits and pieces of stuff. Teo, the Teo right now, the one IN the Teo I know? He's doing something against them. Arthur also stole the daughter of someone I know."
"I knew about the president," Xiulan admits. "Magnes told me about him and his brother." Refilling her glass, she takes another swallow of scotch, licking the taste off her lips before smiling wryly. "That was the same night that I met Hiro. Really, that was a very strange night. All I did was order pizza and all of a sudden I have Magnes and the man from the future on my stoop."
Abby grins at that, finishing up her vodka and OJ. "He knocked on my front door, just after I had sent a message to Teo. He's nice. He's very polite. Good at keeping secrets" Abby nods.
"I'm really sorry I want to kill your friend," Xiulan half murmurs. "But really, he screwed with Richard and despite what Fedor might think, that is pretty much not cool." Taking another swallow of her scotch, Xiulan blinks a few times, finally giving a faint shake of her head as she tries to remember what she was just saying. "Keeping secrets is important," Xiulan notes in tones that make it clear she has no idea what they are talking about any longer.
"It's someone inside him. When he's out of my Teo then…" She's past inebriated. The pea's are rearranged on her wrist, frowning at their general state of non frozenness that they're making their way to. "Hiro likes my cinnamon buns" That could be taken so many different ways.
Xiulan doesn't know how to take that, that much is clear when she blinks, peers at Abby's face then glances down at her breasts. "I don't know slang very well," she admits. "Is that what you call them? Wait! I thought you liked Flint, or… Yeah, Flint."
"nooo nooo, cinnamon buns, like.. cinnamon and sugar and dough. I made some and he showed up. He took some with him to give to Magnes, and there were some for him, for helping get me out of Staten Island" More vodka, more OJ. "He went back in time too, he said so, to see what happened to me. He said that.. everyone deserves a witness. To know that they're not alone" Spoken as if it was the words from God's mouth himself, instead of from Hiro's. "He's sooooo right"
"Magnes?" No, that can't be right… "Who is right?" Moistening her lips, Xiulan takes another swallow of the scotch before flopping back on the floor and tucking one arm under her head. "I think he's cute." Who? Who knows. Waving one hand absently in the air, Xiulan suddenly scowls and notes. "I cannot believe that Fedor threatened us. What the hell was /that/ about?"
"Hiro Xiulan. It was Hiro Who was right" She points with a finger at some random spot in the room and gives a sigh. "He is. Hiro. He's chipmunk cute. His cheeks" And another swallow of OJ and vodka. A scowl that's not alcohol induced is produced on her face and she looks at her wrist. "I don't know" whispered.
"But you /just/ said he was cute?" Xiulan is confused so much so that she's mentally double checking her English. "How can you not know if he is cute?" Circular logic, she cannot follow it, so pushes up on her elbows. "I need another drink." And the fact that she promptly flops onto her back makes it pretty clear that she doesn't. "You think Magnes is /cute/?"
"I said that I don't know why Mr. Ibragitall was.. that.." Oh lord, there's tears coming. "Magnes is sweet, handsome, and Hiro is cute and .. and I can't believe Fedor said that. Oh Xiulan, how could he say that. He saved me from there!" SHe passes over her screwdriver, fishing up a straw and plopping it in as well, to make it easier for Xiulan to drink.
"He didn't mean it," Xiulan assures as she accepts the drink. Course, she doesn't know what to do with it, so ends up holding it. "He wouldn't do that. Sides, we had the AK here." And, to change the subject, she nudges Abby in the hip. "Tell me about some that makes you happy."
"Something that makes me happy" They're not fat tears, they're just little skinny ones, that plops from eyelid to cheek and start their path downwards. "Sitting in the church back home, at. like.. 10 in the morning, just when the sun is coming in the chapel window and there's sunlight filters down on the cross and onto my face and I can hear momma practicing singing with the choir" She turns, now that Xiulan has her drink, to grab her phone. "You're right, I should phone him" Drunken dialing. This is a first.
"Phone who?" Pushing up onto her elbows, Xiulan blinks a few times, unable to remember who she told Abby to call. "…." Ah, look, a drink! Snagging Abby's discarded vodka and orange juice, Xiulan takes a long swallow whilst peering at her friend curiously. "I wonder how you would look with blue hair…" Hey, /wait/, she can find out. "Comere," is uttered as she reaches for any part of Abby she can touch.
Any part of Abby is within reach. She looks over at Xiulan, with the watery eyes and goofy tipsy grin on her face even as the phone is dialing and connecting to another line somewhere out in Staten Island. "Flint. You told me to call Flint" She leans over to fasten her own lips around the now shared drink, the pain in her wrist has been dulled under the weight of the alcohol. No wonder flint drinks so much.
And the second Xiulan touches Abby, blonde hair transforms to a vibrant neon blue. All in all, it is a very cheery color and earns an approving nod from the tattoo artist. "That looks good on you," she notes matter-of-factly. "We should give you more tattoos, too." She told her to call who? "Who?" Squinting at Abigail, she gives a tiny shake of her head before 'aaaahing'. "Right, Flint. Does he like blue? Oh! Put it on speaker phone!" That'll be fun for good ol' Flint.
Bzzzzz. A buzz in Deckard's pocket falls on deaf ears and dead senses until it starts up a second time, almost more insistently. Bzzzzzz. Abruptly, he sits up in the dimmed out grey of his temporary quarters, t-shirt collar stained dark around his neck, grizzled hair and blue eyes wild. An unfolded newspaper slides off his chest onto the floor; a bottle rolls and 'glunks' in the sheets next to him. Who — what time is it? The newspaper — his phone is ringing. The last registered at the end of a semi-panicked blur, he remembers to breathe in time to fumble it out and slide it open at his ear. "Burrows. Er — " one eye squinted, he holds the phone out from his head to squint at it and amends into the receiver, "Deckard."
I'll get another tattoo, when I figure out what it is that I want agai… ohhh blue… I love blue" Abby informs Xiulan in no small whisper. Till of course, the phone is picked up on the other end. It's Deckard. Flint. And she's… drunk. Far more than she's ever even been in his company. Speakerphone is not going on. Not yet at least. She pulls it away from her ear, squinting at it before she puts it back to her ear and blurts out.
"Love is a curse flint. Do you know that? It's a curse!"
"Put it on speaker phone," Xiulan insists. Mind you, she's insisting a little too loudly, but still. Love is a curse? "No, no… It's a battlefield, Abby. Love is a battlefield." And she has the bruises to prove it! Oh, look, vodka. Since Abby has the glass, Xiulan opts for the bottle calling out, "Hello, Flint," before raising it to her lips.
On the other end of the line, silence. Propped up by the wire-bound length of his left arm, Deckard sits up the rest of the way in slow motion to brush a stray section of the paper out of his lap. His breath is hoarse across the line, rasping quick in the seconds it takes him to slow himself down. To think. "…Abigail?" One of his eyes is refusing to open all the way, tacky and dry. He scrubs at it, and then at the top of his head, bristling his hair into further disarray. "Am I on speaker phone?"
"You're not on speakerphone. I can put you on speakerphone. Do you want to be on speakerphone?" Abigail turns away from the phone to hiss at Xiulan. "It's a curse Xiulan. Look where it's got you" But she's back to the phone just as quick. "I'm hurt"
"Do it!" Dooooo it! "He wants to be on speakerphone," Xiulan insists. She promptly falls silent, however, taking a long swallow of vodka before sighing and bracing the bottle between her knees. "It's not a curse," Xiulan insists firmly. "Richard is sweet," she insists more firmly. "He has a /really/ great ass," she adds just a bit too loudly. "Nice thighs, too." Okay, so now she's distracted herself.
"I dunno," says Deckard to the question of speaker phone, voice graveled rough by the dryness in his throat. Swallowing doesn't help much. His eyes fall automatically down to the whiskey at his side as a potential alternative, one hand still curled on top of his head while he tries to catch up with the voices jumbling into his ear. "What time is it? I — you're hurt?"
"It's… it's late and yes, my wrist. I think it's broken. Or it's something. I got peas on it right now. Fedor told me he was going to take me to Logan and give me to him and I slapped him on his face and then He grabbed my wrist and I think he broke it. Does it look broken to you?" Holding her wrist up to the phone. "Richards nice and I don't think he and Elisabeth have had…" The next words are whispered to Xiulan so that Deckard can't hear it. Only, you know, he can. "Like, sex. In a while. It's been a while. I think."
"It's not broken, you can wiggle your fingers," Xiulan points out. Shifting the bottle of vodka between her thighs, she shakes her head in response to the question, dipping her chin toward Abby's drink. "Drink your juice." Sex. "Why does he /always/ run off and get into trouble when I'm horny." Bah. "Men /suck/!" The vodka is raised to her lips and a long swallow is taken before she peers back at Abby. "I'm not stupid, Abby. I might be in love with Richard, but I -know- he's an alleycat. Pssst," she adds as she nudges the newly blue haired girl's leg. "Your on the phone."
Well that wakes him up. Tension creeps in cords from jaw to shoulder to wrist and across Deckard's chest in a stringy clench. The hand he had on his head slides slowly into his lap. He takes a deeper breath, brow hooded and jaw hard. "Who the fuck is Fedor?"
"Fedor. Fedor Ibragimov. Or Rochinikov. Russian. I think he knows Felix. I know he knows Felix. He's a shapeshifter. And he has a lot of guns that he kept pointing at me. But Xiulan says my wrist isn't broken, but it hurts, but I wasn't calling to tell you that, well I was, but I was calling cause, I need you to know that I really do like you, even though Victor calls you the scruffy illegal guy. I like you a lot and that I know why you drink whiskey, because Whiskey makes it hurt less"
Xiulan isn't on the phone and she starts to fidget. Such being the case, she decides she needs something to do and pushes awkwardly to her feet and makes her way to Abby. "You need another tattoo," she mumbles under her breath. "You need… wings." Yes! Wings! Dropping down behind the blond-turned-blue haired woman, she braces on hand on Abby's shoulder and gives a little shake of her head in a futile attempt to clear it. "Richard'd have horns and tail." He's a bad, bad boy after all. Course, there is a pointed warmth from Xiulan's palm… Yes, she is tattooing Abby. Fortunately, it's not something unseemly. Nope. Not on Abigail. Instead, it's a lovely pair of feathery white wings running from the top of her scapula all the way down to the former healer's hips. "Just tell him the truth," Xuilan sighs as she plops down behind Abby. "Tell him you love him. Men need to know that, I think." Dropping her head back against the couch, Xiu sighs and glances toward the bottle of vodka. It's so far away.
It's a shame Deckard's eyes no longer glow, but at the rate this conversation is going, they seem likely to conflagrate purely out of the ill-suppressed rage burning cold in his blood. They shine bright in the dark of his room. Livid. It's a while before he says anything accordingly, even after the conversation has taken a turn into even more uncomfortable territory. "You're drunk." There's a deadness to the observation, muffled and coarsened by old frustration. "Where are you? Who's with you?"
"Whiskey makes it hurt less Flint. Chinatown. With Xiulan. Xiulan, can I tell him where you live? I'm asking her if I can tell you where she lives. I didn't have my pills with me and he just twisted my arm around and told me he was a evil man, but he's not. He's allllll show. If he was really evil he would have followed through with taking me to Logan. Xiulan is the one who's done my tattoo.. You just gave me another one!" The phone is transferred to be pinned between ear and right shoulder, good hand up and going back over her shoulder to touch her back. "What did you give me?!"
"Everyone else seems to know where I live," Xiulan mutters. "He doesn't know Arthur Petrelli, does he?" Cause she really doesn't want to die. She's not drunk enough for that, yet. "Logan is gonna die," She notes in those meander tones that drunk people have. "I spent the night with Song ye to make sure of it." Course, the mention of the tattoo stirs her to focusing on Abby and she flashes a lopsided smile. "Angel wings." Duh! "Oh… Yeah, he can come over. Unless he's going to shoot me. If he's going to shoot me, he has to stand in line."
"Great." She's asking if she can tell him where she lives. Deckard remains in bed for a beat or two more, the heel of his hand pressed deep into the hollow of one eye on its way to falling back to peel the sheets back so he can swing his legs out over the side of the bed. He loses his pajama pants on the way, drawstring tugged loose enough that they just sort've fall off on his way to padding over to a pair of jeans and a belt crumpled together on the floor. "What's happening? Is she doing something to you?"
'She's tattooing me. She lives where I used to live" Tattoo's and alcohol. One does tend to segue into the other, does it not? Abby rattles off the address. "Wings, she's given me wings! And I have pea's on my wrist. But I can move my fingers, and it doesn't hurt anymore, but I think it's cause I had the peas on it and the whiskey. Oh lordy, Flint, I smell the Whiskey, and it reminds me of you" Now she's getting maudlin. "He won't shoot you. He's never shot me. He just punched me once, but it was to protect me. He always protects me. He protects me I get him hurt. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike his eye"
"Ooooh." Closing her eyes, Xiulan grimaces mildly, a sigh spilling past her lips. "The room is spinning," she informs Abby quietly. Such being the case, she opts for higher ground and pulls herself up onto the couch. "I don't think he's coming," is murmured as she tugs a pillow under her head and flings one arm over her eyes. Who? Well, Hiro, but she doesn't make that terribly clear. And Abby's rattling on and Xiu's just barely following it. "Hiro punched you?" Why on /earth/ would Hiro punch Abby? It's enough to bring Xiu's arm off her face and dark eyes to peering in a squint at Abigail. "Your hair is blue," she observes in startled tones.
"Abby…" It's hard to keep track of all of this while Deckard's struggling to tug his pants on with one hand — then two, once the phone is transferred onto his shoulder. The wooden flooring his cold beneath the balance of his bare feet and there's no telling where he put his watch before he passed out. "Stop drinking. And don't go anywhere. I'll be there in…I dunno. A couple of hours, probably." Belt left open, he leans over to shuffle papers around on the dresser next to his bed. Glasses, whiskey glass — he lifts it for a long swallow — wallet.
"I'll stop drinking.. right after I finish this glass. VOdka and Orange Juice. We won't go anywhere. Not unless Arthur Petrelli shows up. But I doubt he's going to show up. Maybe Xiu has some steak around here. I can make you a steak. I bet you haven't been using the smoothie card, I bet your skinnier than a rail. Xiu! Can I have blue toenails?" and with that, the phone is put down, not turned off, but just put to the side, distracted in her alcohol induced haze.
"Why would you stop drinking?" Xiu asks as she pushes up on her elbows and peers at Abby. Oh, /right/, the guy. "Is he going to punch me cause I've been punched enough." Course, she's distracted by the toenails and spills herself off the couch and onto the floor. "Gimmee your feet." And, while she's gesturing for Abby's tootsies, she adds. "Should I plan to sleep on the roof tonight?"
"Why would you sleep on the roof Xiu!" Abby frowns at her before her blue eyes widen. "Oh no, no Xiu! I wouldn't. I can't sleep with him. I'd need an instruction Manual first. Conrad even told me that. He doens't want someone who needs an instruction Manual"
"There aren't any Jamba Juices on Staten Island. You keep naming names; I dunno who…" She's not listening. Resigned, Deckard keeps the phone up to listen anyway while he hooks his arms into the looped straps of his shoulder holster, only to sssslllow down when the chatter on the other end of the line takes a still further turn towards the south. It occurs to him that he should probably hang up.
…
Brows tilted up, he finishes tugging the holster into place more quietly.
"You don't need a manual," Xiu snorts in response to Abby. "Men are like… like… lawmowers." They are? "You just pull the cord and go." Course, she's tugging at Abby's shoes to get to her toes. "I think I have a book, though. No! I do! It's a tattoo book, but it has pictures." Comforting.
"Pull.. the cord and go" The last of the screwdriver consumed, she's pulling off her shoes too, oblivious that she's left the phone line open. That could mean a great many things, and those things go through her head as she's helping pull her shoes off and then her socks. THe giggles come a few moments later and they don't stop.
Lawnmowers? Christ. The holster is up; the wallet is tucked into the back of his jeans. Deckard tracks back across the room to collect his gun from under the pillow and his leather jacket from its post at the foot of the bed, listening to the giggling only long enough for a ghost of guilt to knit at his brow before he finally thumbs the phone off and drops it down into his pocket. Hrghh. Then out the door he goes.
"Just ask Flint to show you," Xiulan assures Abby wryly. "Seriously, though, it's not that hard. Well… No, that's not true. It does get hard, but it doesn't stay that way." And yeah. No. "We should talk about something else," she decides as she snags the bottle of vodka and takes a long swallow. It is as the bottle is set back down that she peers at Abby and asks. "You've never seen a naked man? I bet I could order porno or something." Oh, that would be terrific for Deckard to walk in on, wouldn't it.
"I will not watch a pizza man delivering a sausage pizza" Abigail frowns, picking at her hair and looking at it. All that natural blue. She could have just gone to Xiu for her hair. "I don't know much. Not like my parents taught me. Your mother tells you the day of your wedding what to expect. I know a little, but not much" Abby looks over at the phone as it starts bleating that it needs to be hung up and she silences it
Glancing up from Abby's toes, Xiu smiles wryly. "Well, just ask Flint. I mean, Richard taught me, I'm pretty sure that men like that." Course, she could be wrong, it's hard to say. "I think I'm pretty good at it," she adds as an after-thought. Course, she immediately de-railed and blinks. "When did we order pizza?"