Participants:
| Scene Title | Delivery! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Wendy stops by Anarchy Customs to deliver Devi's first supply of Refrain. Agnes brings her things and begins to get acquainted with her new home. |
| Date | August 13, 2009 |
Anarchy Customs - Garage
This three story building is constructed from old, cracked concrete and cinder blocks, the naturally gray hue is long since caked with the common signs of neglect and vagrancy, filth and graffiti, common on the island. The graffiti here, however, seems notably fresh.
The entrances to the building are two wide, large bay garage doors. The words 'Anarchy Customs' are painted in chaotic letters on each. Just inside a large garage is home to various motorcycles and parts in different states of dismantling, repair, reconstruction, or destruction. The walls are cluttered with various tools, mobbed further with stolen street signs and more untamable, fresh graffiti. The smell of oil clings to the air as eagerly as the grease stains spattered on the concrete floor.
Across from the large, bay garage doors, a single black-iron, spiraling staircase is set beside the opposite wall, corking up to the floor overhead.
Devi placed the call not long after she woke up this morning. She invited Wendy down, told her to bring what she could. Devi would make it worth the trip.
Devi's skin was crawling while she waited. Mama. She rubs at her arms, trying to quell the need to feel the warmth of the drugs euphoric sensations and images alike. She dressed quickly - frayed and greasy cargo pants, an equally abused beater with a hint of her pink and black, polka dotted boulder holder showing through the thin white fabric.
She's down in the shop keeping herself busy, occupying her mind with tinkering on a bike she's begun to piece together for a friend. A joint dangles from between her pale lips, an added effort to try and sooth her frayed nerves. Her dark hair is pulled up in a sloppy bun atop her head to keep it from her face as she crouches over the mechanical beast.
"Avon calling!" That's the sound that heralds the arrival of another black haired beauty, a large expensive purse on her arm. Her only refusal to conceded to coming down here. If people were going to rob her blind, then at least something would be worth it, right? "Deeeeeevvvvvviiiiii" The artist calls out, A spaghetti strapped blue to purple ombre dress and some flip flops on, she's looking here and there, touching things, picking things up while waiting for the tattoo'd woman to appear.
Devi straightens up from behind the mess of the dismantled ride. So this is Wendy on a good day. The bubbly atmosphere was admittedly contagious, and much needed at the moment.
The biker rounds the half-cycle, half-mess, as she wipes her hand on a blue rag. "Yo," she calls back, her eyes wandering to the various parts and tools Wendy's groping. "Aren't we all sort of perky today? How you doin'?" she comments with a grin as she steps up to the little woman. "What can I say, Angel Eyes. You were right. That's some crazy shit."
"Isn't it? Careful of the bad trips. There's no rhyme or reason but… It happens. They said like 2 percent chance" Yeah, Devi caught her in the aftermath of a bad trip. Wendy stops touchign stuff, knowing that to some people it was annoying. "Bike shop, niiiice. I should get one, or two. You ever need someone to customize some paint jobs?" It's an idle thought that tossed out there. "You said you wanted more so I brought a stash." There's a raise of thin thin shoulders. "I'll give em to you for what I got em for, 30 a pop. I got 15 of them on me"
"Two percent? Not bad considering the usual fuck-trip that can snag
you on other shit. Ever had a bad one on this?" she inquires, nudging her chin towards the woman's purse. She dips down, digging a hand into the large cargo pocket by her right calf. The tattooed fingers return clutching a wad of cash. "Some extra in there for your troubles." She pinches the joint from her lips and offers it over as well.
"Fuck yeah." A not so idle answer to an overly idle question. "I could always use a hand 'round here. You're welcome any time." She flashes a wink and lifts a hand, pulling out the elastic that binds her hair up and letting the untamed waves fall around her inked shoulders.
"Bad trip on this shit will just bring up bad memories. Won't kill you or anything" That's about the only comforting thing about a bad trip. "As for whether I had one. You met me the day after. A fuckwit of a friend didn't like what I was doing and had some on him and he thought it would be cool to just stab me in the neck. Apparently I was tripping harsh" And she knows she was. "Wish i'd had a baseball bat to cave his head in for doing it" Money + drug = exchange. She passes over the blue syringes and tucks the money away.
"Take it that your trip was good?"
"Woah. That's some friend you got there. Let me know if you want any help painting the sidewalk with his brains yeah? What's this kid's name? I don't want to be givin' him any just to have him pull more shit on ya."
Devi's gaze glazes for a moment as she takes the supply and contemplates her 'good trip'. She nods slowly. "Hell yeah. Hadn't felt that good in fuck knows how long." She tips her head back towards the staircase. "How 'bout a beer?" She takes a last drag of the little rolly and snuffs it out in a tin.
"He won't be doing it again. He tried to OD with my supply in the bathroom. Little fucker learned his lesson. he's also not getting any from me ever again. Besides, he doesn't quite hang out where you might hang out." Beer, ohhh Beer, even this time of the day. "Sure. I don't gotta be anywhere. So you build custom bikes or just fix em?"
"Ironic justice." Devi chuckles, grin curling up the corner of her lips before she turns away and leads her guest and supplier up the spiraling staircase. "Both. You ride?" She glances back over her shoulder with a sudden interest conduct her thin brow up into an arc and her eyes into a curious glimmer.
Anarchy Customs - Hangout
Dark wood flooring is illuminated by dome-cage lighting set liberally in the ceiling overhead. This room is simply furnished - a stout rectangular table in the center of the room, flanked by deep, plush leather sofas shoved up to the walls at either side. The northern quadrant of the room is set with a personal mini-bar; namely a fridge full of beer, a shelf of hard liquors, and a cabinet set with a large padlock above it. The walls are covered with large mirrors, the reflective areas surrounded by sketches as well as snapshots of completed tattoos. In one corner, well out of the way, there is a bench complete with tattooing equipment.
The southern portion of the room, however, is set with an opening in the floor, supported by a black-iron staircase that offers passage into the greasy garage bellow. The same staircase also leads upwards to a hatch door into the last, upper floor of this building.
She steps up into the hangout and makes a bee-line for the opposite end of the room. A key procured from her cleavage pops open the cabinet and becomes home to the syringes of Refrain, right in beside baggies of this, that, and the other lovely things. She stoops down the mini-fridge and snags a few brews, popping off the tops and passing one over to Wendy.
"Damn, that is a cabinet after my own heart. What all do you have?" Wendy takes a chance to peer in when she can, trying to discern the drug paraphanelia from the other.
Devi looks back to the cabinet still propped open. "Oh, a girl after my heart," she coos and passes off the bottle, slick with condesation, and steps back towards the cupboard. "Got just 'bout everything. Something you want, Angel Eyes?" She snags out a tiny bag of white powder and dangles it between her fingers before making a gesture towards the storage unit. The two of them were like grown, wild kids in a candy store, it would appear.
Wendy says, "Never was into coke. I was a pill girl. Was clean three years" and then refrain came along. Sweet sweet refrain. But she won't resist poking through, taking a look for shit and giggles while tipping back the beer into her mouth. Maybe see if there's some sweet sweet mary jane. She's never quite given up that. "Whats your favourite?""
"Clean…" The concept draws an arc to dark brow. "Couldn't do it," the biker admits. She slips off towards the sofa, flopping down and sinking into the worn, supple leather. She reaches out and pulls the table towards her, tossing the baggy down before looking up to Wendy. "The dust, when I'm feeling spunky. But, most the grass."
Of which there is plenty in the open cabinet. Apparently the biker seems quite comfortable with leaving it open and available in Wendy's presence. Good advertising, perhaps? Or, true trust. "Free sample of one choice. Seems only fair." She waggles her brows, grins, and sips her beer.
There's a laugh from Wendy. "I'll let you choose, and clean, clean was hard. But then I found refrain, just out of the blue and there goes that chip" Weed, well, that will always be a constant. The trust though, well, it IS Devi's place and she has the homecourt advantage if Wendy were to pull something.
Devi suckles her lower lip in a thoughtful manner for a short moment before lifting a hand and making a brief gesture towards the cupboard. "Top shelf. All the way to the left." A pile of marijuana prepared in small baggies ready for distribution - Devi's got quite the system prepared. "Called 'Aries'. Grown in Arizona. Good shit." She leans back, not overly eager to enjoy the little baggy she's set aside for herself. If the meeting ends sooner than expected, she'll dip into the fresh supply or Refrain instead.
There's a quick moment to pull a 9MM from her waist and set it down on the table, marking her territory and completing the little display of 'trust' before she leans back and props her boot on the edge of the coffee table. "You seem to know your shit…" Her dark gaze fixes on Wendy with a gauging interest. "Any chance you're looking for part time work?" she asks with a playful lilt to her voice.
"that's a good one. Part time work. I'm a rich little girl from page six. I also make art. installation pieces. I'm not hurting for money, even with the recession" But she's sussing out the bag that Devi was talking about, studying it for a few moments before she sits across from the heavily tattoo'd woman. Any rolling paraphernalia is picked up along the way so that she can roll one for them. "I assume your looking for someone to customize paint maybe? Graphics for the motorcycles?"
Devi's dark gaze drops to the process of the rolling, pursing her lips and nodding in an approving fashion before letting her gaze wander back over the artist. "I'm looking for many things. Riders. Sellers. Workers for the shop - which, lucky you, does include someone to do some sick ass paint jobs." She presents her empty palms out to her sides and watches the woman's reaction.
"Never painted a bike before. A car, but never a bike" Can't be that different. "I can do one for free and let you see how it is. But i'm teaching art classes out at the Suresh Center that just opened, and I gotta attend board meetings" She's good at rolling, someone who's been doing it for many years and it's looking promising. "But I could maybe do one or two a month, if you like my work. I'm pretty good with an airbrush"
Devi is sitting on one plush sofa, the coffee table pulled up to make a resting place from her booted feet, her 9MM, and a small baggy of white powder. Across from her on the opposite couch, Wendy sits rolling a joint. Finally, the cupboard on the far wall is left unlock and open, displaying its wares proudly - powders, pills, grass, and its newest product - azure, glowing vials of Refrain.
The biker offers a simple nod and combs her fingers back through her tussled hair. She's dressed for shop work - greasy cargo pants, and a thin white beater that reveal a hint of her pink and black, polka dotted bra. "Sounds good. Don't have much work comin' in at the moment any how. The bike you saw downstairs is a gift to someone, so I won't be losin' any money if your work is shit." She chuckles. At least she keeps it real and honest. She dips into her pocket and snags a lighter, tossing it over towards Wendy.
Agnes would have a hard time sneaking up on anyone up here, the hard plastic of her three-inch platforms making a ting-ting-ting noise as she ascends the iron staircase from the level below. The going is a little slower than usual, thanks to the rather massive hockey bag she has slung over her petite shoulder; it wouldn't be a huge stretch to claim she, herself, could fit inside the damn thing. She finally emerges at the top of the stairs, a bit breathless and half-sagging under the weight of all her worldly possessions (good thing she doesn't have that many of them). Spotting the two women, she stops somewhat abruptly, as if not entirely sure if she's intruding - especially considering the nature of what she's happened upon. "Oh. Uh. Hey," she greets, trying to seem cool about the whole thing but coming off a bit awkward.
Devi inclines her little chin, looking at the finished piece done the bridge of her sharp nose. "Angel Eyes got skills," she comments and nudges her chin to welcome her supplier, guest, and friend to the first hit.
The chiming-thud of the staircase draws the biker's dark gaze away, brows furrowed until… "Hey! Look what the cat dragged in, yeah?" Devi leans forward, dropping her boots, which lack Agnes's precarious and large platforms in their opting for function rather than look, and makes a sweeping motion of her arm to welcome Agnes in. "Come on in, chica bonita. Kitty, this is Angel Eyes." She glances between the two. They can exchange given names if they see so fit, but she rather likes those she's personally created for both ladies.
Angel eyes is fine with her. Though she's more used to goldfish eyes. Approval given and a lighter fished out from god knows where on her person, Wendy starts the process of lighting up. "Hey" between starter puffs on the joint.
Agnes takes a few steps forward before rather unceremoniously dumping her bag to the ground, her shoulder unable to take any more of the strain. She tries to nudge it at least out of the way by giving it a solid shove with her foot; she'll worry about getting it the rest of the way once she's had a break. There's a smile then for both ladies, though it still probably isn't too hard to tell she's yet feeling a tiny bit awkward. "Hey," she returns with a nod, also happy to leave the name at that, considering her given one's utter lack of cool. Rubbing at her shoulder, she ventures nearer to the seating arrangement, leaving her bag behind for now. "Not interrupting or anything, am I?" Her gaze sweeps over everything taking it in. But while it's thrown her a bit, at least she doesn't seem scandalized, so perhaps that's something.
Devi finds herself grinning at the youngin's controlled reaction to the situation. It'll grow on Aggie, she's sure. She chuckles and scoots over on the sofa, making even more room on the large leather cushions. "Nah. This is your place now too. Get comfy." She eyes the bag with a smirk. "Beer's in the fridge." Yes, beer just after noon. Home sweet home. "How's things?"
"Nope, it's all good" Slightly strained voice as Wendy holds the smoke in her lungs and passes it over to Devi. Agnes can have a toke after, but it IS Devi's stuff. "You're right. is good" She smiles to Agnes. "Ink is trying to get me to come paint bikes for her"
Well, hey, this underager (just a few more months!) isn't going to turn down a freely-given offer of beer, so Agnes halts in her path towards the couch to make a quick detour to that fridge and fetch herself. "Want me to grab either of you one?" she offers helpfully as she passes. There's a shrug of her shoulders. "Things are pretty good, really. Can't complain." Wendy gets a grin then. "That'd be cool. You like to paint and stuff, I'm guessin'?"
See? Petnames all around! Devi reaches out, pinching the rolly between her fingers and taking a draw. Her husky tones are made all the more so by her efforts to cage the lungful of THC-smoke even as she speaks. "Hells yeah. And, I'm having her start with the bike I'm puttin' together for ya," she looks pointedly at Aggie, lips tilted in a devilishly sweet smirk before she tips back her head and releases the cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. So that's the mystery individual for whom the bike is being made.
The biker makes a show of lifting and displaying her half-empty bottle of suds, taking another sip before chasing it with another drag and offering the joint in turn to Aggie. "Says she makes a living on her art work." Devi grins. An honest living to support a dishonest habit - it's amusing.
"Ahhh, see, now I can pester you. What do you want it to look like. If I fuck it up, Ink here promises me she she'll redo it" Wendy leans back. Agnes isn't evolved so, she doesn't bother with trying to touch the woman, or even offer her some refrain. Won't do shit for the other woman. "Please don't tell me pink. I hate pink"
It takes a moment for that to really penetrate Agnes's subconscious as she pulls out a beer for herself. It's only as she's turning back that it really clicks what Devi just said. "Wait, what? For me? You're…" She's too stunned to even finish that sentence, simply staring in disbelief for a moment, before she remembers to keep going, heading back to the couches again. A small grin appears almost in spite of herself. "Shit, you don't gotta do that." She takes the joint, again holding it more like one might a cigarette, but she takes an honest drag from it as she sits down and then offers it back to Wendy, figuring to keep the circle going here. "Pink? Hell no. Black, a really dark red. Though, I mean, any colour, so long as it's dark." Her wardrobe would back her up on this one, at least. "Seriously? You're really buildin' one for me?" is turned back to Devi as she realizes she's kind of just started rolling with the idea.
"Anything special on it, like a bird, or symbol? Anything? Or just the colors?" The joint is taken carefully if perhaps a little reverently and she takes her turn on it again. All ripped jeans and relaxed look. It's got nothing on refrain, but she's satisfied with it. "Red and black though, I like that" Puff, puff, pass. The holy trinity of marijuana sharing.
"Fuck yeah. Figure my hands are already dip into the devil's business. No need to keep 'em idle. Besides, can't expect ya to be any good to me if you don't have a ride." She leans to the side, resting her tattooed shoulder against Aggie's own smaller one, and taps the neck of her beer to the youngin's. She looks back to Wendy then and gawks playfully, rolling back her shoulders and pushing out her chest to point at a pink polka dot showing through her shirt. "Pink's the shit," she comments before laughing aloud. Giggles - a lovely byproduct of THC. Next will be the dread munchies. "Kids gotta point though. Dark's good."
She reaches out to accept her turn at the rolly, following the unspoken law, enjoying a couple deep pulls before passing it on. She looks at Aggie out of the corner of her ebon-lined eyes, then. "Hm. Throw a small raven somewhere on the bike…" She nods slowly. "To protect ya," she tells Aggie, using her free hand to tap at the tattoo of the large ebon bird stamped on her own throat. Whether the protection is something religious or gang related is hard to tell.
"Cool, thanks," Agnes replies as Devi confirms her intentions. The tone is quiet, but the smile and the sentiment are clearly quite sincere. Of course, there's the matter as to whether or not she's even been on a bike before, but, as with all good things, she'll just cross that bridge when she comes to it and hope it doesn't kill her. She doesn't seem to be overwhelmed with ideas for her own design as she cracks open her beer to take a sip, and so Devi's suggestion is embraced quickly. "Sure, yeah, that'd be cool," she agrees readily, taking the joint when her turn comes and having another drag on it, as she eyes Devi's tattoo appreciatively. "Yeah, let's do that then." With a nod, she leans over to pass the joint back to Wendy again.
Raven it is" Wendy's already trying to figure out what she's going to do. "Significance of the bird?" She's going to take her time this round, puff… puuuuuuuuuuuuf and get as much in before pulling the weed away and passing it off. Wait, wait and then she looks up and with careful manipulation of her mouth and breath, out comes a smoke ring and after that, a little puff angled in the center. Two seconds later, she's giggling at what she managed to do. Hello party trick
Devi pauses in her reach for the eagerly diminishing joint. She cocks her head to the side and watches the skillful little display. She cocks one brow, waits, and then hangs her head with a soft, shoulder-bobbing chuckle. She leans back, flopping against the plush backrest of the sofa as she draws the rolly back to her lips. "Shit tons," she begins. "Some ancient cultures believed it was an ill omen. Others saw it as a symbol of divine protection." She grins and passes off the smoke. "In this case, it'll depend on if you're on my good or badside… I'm tryin' to put together a group that'll ride under the name."
Agnes's eyebrows go up a little though she tries to downplay how impressed she is with Wendy's artful display of toking prowess. "Well, sure as fuck, I'm not lookin' to get on your bad side," she notes with a crooked grin, but sincere sentiment, as she takes the joint and has another go, having to hold it carefully at this point, but she manages. Small fingers come in handy sometimes. Her pull is a little less deep than the previous ones, before she passes it off again. "I kinda like that it's both though," she muses thoughtfully. "Ill omen, divine protection. Maybe they're not so far apart as we'd like to think." That might be the Mary Jane talking though. She washes it down with a swig of beer.
"Was also a sign of the trickster in many a Native American tribe. I like Ravens. They're stately." Stately. That makes Wendy giggle before quite dramatically she stands up, arm sweeping up to above the door out of this place. "Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more"
Devi winks at her smaller 'business associate' beside her. The second comment has her leaning back, expression a theatrical arrangement tickled by slight amusement. "Ooo. Check out the young philosopher, yeah?" She chuckles and watches the little nub being passed off to Wendy before she polishes off her beer. She looks to Wendy as the woman rises. "Ah-haha! Kitty, you got some competition." She applauds the poetic display, lifting her feet and tipping back as a husky giggle overcomes her.
It takes her a moment to catch her breath. She rises to her feet with a grunt and closes the cabinet with a quick click of the lock. "Alright. I got some shit to do, and gotta get Kitty here all settled in. You're welcome to chill or crash here any time, Angel Eyes." She winks before her boots thud in carrying her across the hardwood floor where she stoops and heaves the youngin's back over her shoulder with a groan. "Got more of those shit-kickers in here?" she teases with a glance towards Aggie's boots before starting up the stairs.
Agnes lets out a little laugh at being called a philosopher, which pauses for a sip of beer, and then continues again. It finally trails off as she listens to Wendy's recital. "Didn't that dude end up going mad or some shit?" The details of the poem are a little hazy. "Then again, maybe that's fitting too," she considers after a moment, snickering again. And then, hey, her stuff is going, and she figures maybe she should go with it and find out just where it is she's crashing. "Fuck yeah," she answers Devi's question with a grin as she hefts to her feet. "Pretty much all I got." Though that might be a joke, since it would take a lot of even her rather insane footwear to fill a bag that size. "Was real nice meeting ya, uh, Angel Eyes," she notes to Wendy, offering the other woman a grin. "And thanks for working on the bike."
'Yeah, killed himself I think, or died of cirrhosis." Wendy shrugs. "It's no biggie Kitty. I like a challenge. Change of pace from board meetings and my studio. Besides, it'll be one of a kind Wendy Hunter art. Just dont' destroy the bike" And with the last possibly pull from the joint, it's gone. So gone, you'd need tweezers to try and get one last pull. She picks up her bag, dropping some money down for the rest of what's in the baggie that she rolled from. Essentially giving back some of what Devi paid her with for the refrain. "See ya round girly's"