Participants:
| Scene Title | Botched Celebration |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Devi and Agnes aim to celebrate her new bike and a true place in the Ravens. |
| Date | August 23, 2009 |
Anarchy Customs: Apartment
The loft apartment has been modified to accommodate Devi's new roommate. The sofa's pulled out into a fair-sized bed, a few objects moved to designate a portion of the residence for Agnes's belongings.
Devi is standing in the kitchen, fixing a few shots. She turns with the little glasses cupped in one hand, beer bottle chasers dangling in her fingers from the other. "Settlin' in well?" she asks with a friendly grin.
She's still greasy from having spent the day down in the garage, bringing up the scent of gas and oil with her. Frayed jeans and a strapless top designed to look like a black bandana wrapped around her breasts flatter her tattoos and smears of black grease as she steps towards Agnes and offers her a portion of the drinks.
At least Agnes, with her one bag of belongings, doesn't require too much space, though her things appear to be slowly slipping out through the open zipper, as if in an attempt to unpack themselves. The younger girl sits on the foot of her sofabed, flicking through some make up that was dumped from the baggie that now lies crumpled beside it. She tears her attention away as Devi approaches with the drinks, getting quickly to her feet to help but finding it perhaps a bit unnecessary. She drops back down to the bed with her drink now in hand and offers a grin. "Yeah, this is awesome," she enthuses genuinely.
"Good," Devi replies with an easy grin. "It's nice to have the company. You're doin' a sick job helpin' out Shard and his little movement there, by the way. Which is why?" The biker's grip tightens around the neck of her bottle, dangling the glass as she turns away. She streatches out and reaches behind the couch, revealing a leather jacket. The ebon hide is supple and worn into a soft state. What's more imporant, however, is the patch on the back - a Raven with wings spread in the midst of flight. She tosses the jacket down beside Aggie with a wink. "You're bikes done. We can take it over to the over to the artist when we get a chance. But, figured you could use practice and a jacket before you ding up a fresh pain job." She chuckles and waggles her brows.
The younging's comment is met with a husky, rolling laugh. "I had figured as much. Don't worry, I'll teach ya." She lifts her brew in a subtle salute before tipping it back up to her full lips. A few heavy gulps the bottle is lowered. Devi looks down upon her house guest with an ambiguous expression - blank, contemplative, and scrutinizing all within her dark gaze.
"How 'bout a celebration," she remarks sharp and brightly. She moves over to her nightstand and snags something from a drawer, returning with one of the azure, luminscent syringes she keeps stashed for personal use. "What do you say?"
Agnes is clearly relieved as Devi dismisses her utter lack of experience so easily, and she offers a grateful grin, still looking slightly sheepish for being such a lamer as to never have controlled a bike before. "At least I'll have a good teacher," she notes, grinning wryly around her own swig of beer. Lowering the bottle, she doesn't seem quite sure what to make of that odd expression from Devi, so ends up just sitting there somewhat awkwardly, dropping her gaze back down to the patch again.
She looks back up as Devi goes on, her expression curious about this celebration - and then turning a little uncertain when the woman returns with those syringes. There's palpable hesitation as Agnes eyes the drug warily before lifting her gaze to Devi, questioning but trusting at the same time. Of all people, she can't imagine Devi would lead her astray; and, of course, she can't let herself become even more of a loser here. So though it isn't exactly filled with bravado, after a moment Agnes nods slowly. "Er, yeah, sure. Why not."
"Alllriightt," Devi comments in an almost sing-song manner before spinning about and dropping down onto the sofabed beside Aggie, the metal supports giving a little whine at the sudden addition. "For you," she offers out one syringe, making a gesture of her chin towards the girl's arm. "I'll keep an eye on ya. Shit kind whisks you off into your best memories." She holds out the syringe between two slender fingers, dark nails reflecting the cerulean glow. "Got it?"
Agnes grins a little at the sing-song approval she gets, readjusting herself slightly to make up for the shift in the springs as Devi sits down beside her. Leaning forward, she sets her beer down on the floor before straightening back up and reaching rather unsteadily for the syringe. She holds it gingerly as she eyes her arm, trying to figure out how exactly to get the phosphorescent drug from in there to in there… "Thanks. Um, so do I just … uh, stick it in there, or do I gotta find a vein or, uh, what?" she finally asks, trying to sound more blase than it quite manages to come across.
"This shit's idiot proof. No vein necessary. Just stick it on in and give it a go." Her hand remains where in the air where it had supported the dangling syringe - an offer of assistance, without infiringing to much on the young girl's much desired need to be independent in the matters of bad-assery.
"Oh. Okay," Agnes replies with a nod, at least a little relieved that she's not going to have to figure out how to find a vein before working up the nerve to stick needle in there. She glances at the hand hovering there, sorely tempted to accept the offer of help, but then, if it's idiot-proof, that must include her too, right? Of course, the cringing squint she has on as she finally works up the nerve to 'stick it on in' might detract from her bad-assery points a little.
Devi nods supporting and approvingly, even as her dark gaze greedily eyes the little divot of resistance and surrender of flesh under the silver needle. "I got your back, Kit," the biker offers - she plans on doing whatever she can to assure her younger friend and biker-buddy doesn't experience a bad trip, after all.
"Thanks," Agnes replies, a little distracted as she pulls the syringe from her arm with a little wince, now devoid of its glowing contents. Aggie bites down on her lip, a fleeting moment of worry as she wonders just what the heck she just did… And then more thoughtful as she waits for it to kick in, trying to stay hyper-aware of herself to notice the moment it begins.
Devi leans back, propped up by her elbows to watch over her charge with both a scene of curiosity and protection.
A few minutes pass.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
A few more.
Finally, the tattooed woman sits up with a lofted brow. "How ya doin'?" There's a slight edge to her question, though one can assume it isn't directed at the girl.
"Um, okay, I think?" Agnes replies, though it isn't exactly the response one might expect from someone blissed out on a vivid retelling of a fondest memory. She feels good to be sure, though if she were to be honest, she'd admit that she was kind of expecting a bit … more, for all the build up. Instead: "I mean, it's - it's pretty cool yeah." But it probably doesn't take a genius to figure out that she's overplaying it, trying to tell the woman what she wants to hear.
Devi's dark-lined lashes narrow around her even darker gaze. A silent moment and then she is shoving up abruptly from her bed. She tosses a small baggy of marijuana behind her. "Sorry, Kitty. Take that, if ya want. I owe you some sort of celebration."
She begins mumbling to herself as her boots beat out a heavy, determined pace towards the stairwell. "Bullshit. Fucking bullshit."
She calls back over her shoulder. "I gotta make a call. I'll handle this. Congrats, anyway." With that her tattooed form disappears down the serpentine staircase.