A New Sublease on Life


amadeus_icon.gif daphne_icon.gif

Scene Title A New Sublease on Life
Synopsis Amadeus and Daphne strike a strange sort of (and probably illegal) deal in regards to residence and drug money.
Date April 27, 2011

Eltingville Blocks

Tonight is yet another night that Amadeus has been busy while Daphne was away. There's black eye liner on the table, a bag full of boxes of Swedish Fish sitting on the counter (And she may have noticed a smashed vending machine a few blocks away). Her drab furniture sits on the curb outside, now replaced with a colorful red couch that looks like it's right out of Ikea, with a matching chair and a bright yellow coffee table.

Her walls have pages of Heavy Metal magazine taped to it, so lots of boob art and dragons and other sorts of weird stuff, but it all sort of flows together in some weird way. He's been trying to make her apartment feel more alive. The last thing of note is the square brown Godiva box on said yellow table, and him once again laying back on the couch, and a Decorating for Dummies book on his face.

The small speedster steps inside, having eaten more soup at the community center. Free is free, after all. She arches her brow at the furniture, picks up one of the packages of Swedish Fish, and perches on the arm of the couch.

"I think you may need to read a few more books," she muses, giving a large-breasted woman on the wall a skeptical look. "I'm not really much for T and A, and I think maybe mixing Ikea and Metallica is like mixing a La-Z-Boy and Faberge."

She nods to the couch. "I like it, but please tell me it's not stolen… if the feds come by to check on me and I have hot merch in my house, this place is going to look like Candyland compared to where they'll stick me next."

"I stole the candy, then I sold all my pot, so I've got enough money to last until I can figure out some sorta scam to set up." Amadeus removes the book from his face and just lets it fall to the floor, then pulls out a roll of hundreds and tosses it over to her. It's about two-thousand dollars. "I've got three-thousand more, this is all we've got for now. Wanna buy paint for the walls?"

The money is stared at for a long moment, and Daphne's head tips curiously to look down at him from her perch on the arm of the couch. "You-" she begins. "I…" She shakes her head, and stands.

"Look, you've repaid me whatever you owed me for breaking in, all right? You got me what I asked for. I'm not gonna narc on you for the drugs or anything, but whatever you're trying to do here… whatever you're trying to buy from me, it's not happening."

She tosses the money down at him. "You should bring the furniture to your place. And paint your place."

Her arms cross and she looks around her apartment. "A gilded cage is still a cage, Chronic."

"You're too cute to think so much." Amadeus tosses the money back, then places the book over his eyes again. "You're a criminal, I ain't too sure what kinda shit you're into, but I know two-thousand ain't nothin' to you. If I were tryin' to buy pussy I'd be goin' more on ten-thousand for you. We're friends, I'm sharin' the wealth if I'm gonna stay here."

He slides the book up to his forehead so he can watch her, his tone oddly serious for once. "This is my first year outta jail after like three years; possession, y'know? I'm on cruise control in this place, and I like hangin' out with you. I don't care if you put out or whatever, I just wanna hang out with you."

Dark eyes narrow as Daphne considers Amadeus' words, and she taps the fingers of one hand against the arm of the other, the fingers blurring with superhuman speed. It's a long pause for her, though just seconds for him.

"Did they not give you a humble abode all your own? Or do you just prefer mine?" Daphne asks, deciding to leave discussion of the value and price of pussy — hers especially — behind for the time being. "I don't mind you hanging out, but … selling pot, and buying stuff with the proceeds, that's going to get attention. This place is just not that big, you know? People are gonna figure stuff out."

She sighs heavily and falls into a seat on the couch. "Dammit, I sound like such a square."

"You're a cute fuckin' square, but I know it's just this place. It's jail, and lookin' at you I don't think you've ever been to a real jail, so I won't blame you if this place is doin' a number on your head." Amadeus slides a hand into his pocket, feeling his own roll of money, then shakes his head. "I sold all of it, there ain't gonna be more pot unless I buy more, and I ain't gonna while we're here. I just wanted to make sure you didn't have to worry about gettin' caught with it."

And then there's the question of him having a place… that's a good question. "They gave me a bunch of papers and stuff, I didn't read 'em, so I just sorta slept on the street. I might have a place, might not, don't even fuckin' know. I like your couch."

The money is set on the coffee table and Daphne smiles at his words. It's a sad thing on her usually impish face. "I've been in a worse kind of jail, but you're right. Not a 'real jail,' no. Not with a lojack system on my ankle and people watching my moves."

She opens the package of candy she'd forgotten, pulling out one of the chewy red fish to stick into her mouth, before handing him the bag. "I won't take all the money. It's yours. If you want to give me a small amount just so I'm not begging on street corners or something, fine, but I will pay you back some time, or you can pay it to me as rent I guess, but on a weekly basis so that you don't give me the whole thing and then decide you wanna live somewhere else and then I have all your money. Deal?"

She offers him her hand, brows rising.

"Yeah alright, rent." Amadeus reaches out to take her hand, and with his other he takes the bag of candy. He finally releases her hand and dumps a few fish into his mouth, wrinkling his nose. "I wish they'd make a fish flavor." But, moving on… "If you start hookin', first I'm gonna break some dude's kneecaps, then I'm gonna ask why you didn't just ask me for money."

Her nose wrinkles at the 'fish flavor' comment, and she snorts at the last. "I'm not going to start hookin'," she says, shaking her head and kicking each tennis shoe off with a thud onto the floor before pulling her feet beneath her on the couch.

"Do I really seem like that kind of girl to you? You're preoccupied with this topic, Chronic. I may be a thief and a criminal and an enemy of the state but I'm not a whore. So what were you in jail for? Possession with intent to sell?"

"You don't seem like that kinda girl, nah. If you were, you think I'd be, like, showin' respect and shit like that? I'd be tryin' to do shots outta your belly button and smuggle pot up your ass." Amadeus reaches over to where his whiskey was previously on the floor, but that bottle got finished off days ago, no longer there. "I got busted for posession a buncha times, but the last time the judge just decided to like, make a fuckin' example. So I stayed in jail for three years, and I got out when that blizzard was happenin'. I shacked up with a college chick and she wrote a uh, psychology thesis on me."

Daphne snorts. "You are a psychology project, that's for sure," she says, pushing off the couch and then gone in a blur and back in an instant to hand him another bottle of Jack Daniels from the stash in the kitchen cupboard. It's pressed into his hand, and then she tips her head to the hallway.

"I'm going to go shower. Put the money in a safe place. I don't want it all at once. If you pay me once a week, I'll feel less like a charity case and more like your landlady."

And with that, she's gone again, air ruffling his hair and clothing in her wake.

"Totally fuckin' hot." is all Amadeus says in the midst of her blur, pulling the top off so he can lay back and drink while she showers. His current mental state might be questionable, but he did sell all of his pot, who can be expected to think straight?

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