Just One Hit


adam_icon.gif lola_icon.gif

Scene Title Just One Hit
Synopsis Adam steps up his pursuit of Lola with the help of Refrain
Date August 29, 2009

Lola's Apartment

In a dinky little apartment in what's left of a sliver of decency on Staten Island - for instance, a place with 4 locks on the doors and bars on the windows - there is a nice little studio. It's split into three 'rooms', seperated by gaping dooraways. There are'nt really much in the way of walls to speak of. In a nice home, they would be archways between rooms that took up most of the wall. Here? They're just square.

The room is sparsly decorated, a few odd idols hang on the walls. No crosses or anything like that to speak of, yet the room does have a religious feel. No AC, just a large box-one in the window of the 'living room/dining room' which is made up of a simple talb,e four chairs and some shelves. The bedroom is to her left, a queen sized bed with plain sheets. Tho the right is the kitchen. Not much to speak of there either.

Lola is nowhere to be seen at first, but there is blood - actually a bit of it - on the table haphazardly. Fresh blood. Candles too, and the room smells of some strange…something. Something woody, something burning. Or burnt.

Adam knocks on the door. But eventually he seems to not think waiting is an option. He opens the door, stepping inside the little studio apartment. He frowns as he looks around with an arched brow, "Now this is.." he pauses, "Cozy." he shakes his head a bit in obvious disapproval. Then it occurs to him that Lola is nowhere to be found. He's holding a bag and sets it down on the table and then notices the blood, "I see." he says to himself, then calls out again, "Lola?"

There is no answer. Perhaps she is not home? Although there is the sound of running water coming from the kitchen, which does turn a corner. Perhaps she's hiding in there.

In truth, she is. With headphones on, so she cna't hear a thing. She's got blood on her shirt and up her arms, a bit splattered across her breastbone. Spagetti strap tank and jean cuttoffs seems to be the order of the day. No sheos, cutely painted nails. In front of her is a chicken with it's head sepearated. She seems to be..plucking it.

Adam watches the chicken plucking and the separating of the head. He, himself, is no practitioner of Santeria. In fact, he probably doesn't even know what it is, but it does look like some sort of pagan ritual. He reaches near the front of Lola's face and snaps his fingers. "Hello." he says.

Lola turns her face when she sees the fingers, blinking in confusion. She sees his mouth move, but she can't hear him. "What?" She roars in her thick Louisiana accent. It only occurs to her afterwards to take her headphones out. "Watcha doin' in here? Aincha know, dat in dis country there's laws bout breakin' an enterin'. Didn' ya know?" She slings the earbuds over her shoulder, and continues to pluck. Just to be spiteful, she flicks a few feathers Adam's direction.

Adam tilts his head as feathers fly in his directions, "You neither answered your door, nor locked it." he points to the bag, "I brought food." he says, "I didn't quite realize that you were…" he pauses, "Do you like shake the chicken around your head or something?" he questions thoughtfully with an arched brow, "I'm not clear on what it is you people do."

Lola looks at Adam as though he's crazy. Which, to her it might be. "Whattaya mean ya ain' clear what it is ya people do? What's it look like I done? I kilt it." She lifts the chicken by the leg, holding it up so it's neck dangles freely down, a bit of blood still dripping there. "See? It's dead, ain' it? Now Imma eat it. Do ya like chicken?"

Adam glances at the chicken, "I do like chicken. It's been some years since I've seen it necessary to kill my own though." he says. He tilts his head and glances around, "This place is a dump." in a matter of the fact way, "Why do you live here? You can't have a vow of poverty."

Lola shrugs, slinging the chicken back onto the cutting board with a gross SPLAT sound. Ewww. She continues to defeather the bugger. If one looks closely, they might see that it's leg is still twitching. "It ain' so bad. Ah like it. What else do I need, anyhow? S'not like I'm onaa them yankee girlies t'wants everythin' fancy and shiny."

Adam rolls his eyes as he sits down, but brushes the seat off before he sits down, "Well, a place where you don't have to worry about bars on the window for one." he sits back a moment, "You really like pointing out that you're not a yankee girl."

Lola nods. "Course I do. Most of 'em couldn' do an honest day's work ta save 'emselves." This point is accentuated by a loud THWACK of the butcher knife coming down as she begins to slice up the chicken. "Sides, there ain' nothin' wrong with me."

Adam shrugs a bit, "I suppose." he says, "But I can't see myself coming here very often." he pauses, then glances at Lola, "What's your favorite memory, do you recall?" he questions.

"What's it matter if you come here er not?" She asks, slicing again with a swift, harsh movement of the knife. "An since when were we playin' show an tell?" She asks, dumping the chicken's body into the sink neath the running water.

Adam considers a moment. "I was curious, because you're a bit of a thrill junkie. I might have something that you would find interesting." he opens his jacket and pulls out a tube. He unscrews it quietly and out slides a needle filled with a glowing blue liquid. "I wanted to see if you wanted to try this."

Lola shrugs. "Whats that gotta do wif you comin' here ever or with mah memories?" She asks, throwing some ice into the sink and turning off the water, letting the chicken lay there. She roughly wipes her hands on a towel. "An why would ya want ta bring me more excitement anyway? Still tryin' ta hire me?"

Adam shrugs a bit, "Perhaps I am. Perhaps I've decided to pursue another avenue. Whatever the reason.." he nods to the needle. "It's up to you whether you're willing to be exciting enough or not."

Lola lifts the needle to examine it. "How do I know ya ain' just tryin' ta kill me?" She asks, with a raised brow. She's still got a bit of blood on her, but seems to be ignoring it for the most part.

Adam shrugs a bit, "I'd imagine if I wanted you dead, I could have easily accomplished that when we fell off the building….or during the riot over on Staten, or when the Pancratium collapsed. If you're not interested, that's fine. You just seemed to be the type." and reaches forward for the needle.

Lola lets him take the needle, wrinkling her nose at the look of it. "Looks like it'd hurt. Are you takin' it too?" She asks. Yes, it will take a bit of convincing, but with a personality like Lola's it shouldn't be hard.

Adam shrugs a bit, "Pain is temporary, memories are forever." he smiles. "No, I don't take it. I'm not the thrill seeker." he puts the needle into the tube. "It's not a big deal." he says, "You're not the type to take risks when it matters. I get it."

Lola slumps down at the table. She hates a challange. "Oh alright. But ya gotta be the one ta do it, don' know nothin' bout that fancy doctorin' with needles an whatnot." She says, offering over her arm.

This is an interesting thing about Lola. Sure, she could be a great asset to something. But she has zero direction. Without direction and supervision? Things like this happen.

Except…soon she'll be Lola beholden to Adam and Adam certainly knows how to get the best out of people. He slides the needle out and takes her arm a bit. "Make a fist, I happen to be very good with needles." he doesn't explain this, Lola simply doesn't know enough about him. "I'll carry you to your bed." he says, "It could work very quickly." and with that, he slides the needle into the crook of her elbow. There's a sharp sting, but needles are always worse before they go in and then the blue liquid starts to inject itself slowly. After the needle is empty, he withdraws it and moves around the table and puts his arm around her waist to lead her to her bed.

Lola lifts her head as he begins the injection. "Bed? I thought it was gonna make me wanna dance or soemthing!" He said excitement. Excitement is not lying in bed! "Ya'd better not do anythin' inna…innapropriate.." She begins to get a little woozy as soon as he removes the needle. "Thats what this is, ain' it, just a trick…ya'd better not, Imma good shot! Right 'tween the eyes!" And it's true, too.

Adam nods, "Wouldn't help." he informs her and then lays her down in bed. "Just let it take effect." he sits down on the side of the bed and lets Lola trip.

Lola is led to the bed, a creaky old thing, the sort that Adam probably hasn't had dealings with in…well, sixty years or so. It looks every day of it's wear. Lola lays down, blinking. "I know, maman, ya said 'ed touch me," she murmers, happily. Yes, happily. She switches a strange language for a moment, then back into English. "But I can't maman, Daddy says he wants me fer a safe job….yes maman, he says I'm good 'nuff now."

Adam just sits there and listens. His head tilts to the side as he takes out a small pad of paper and a pen. He begins to write down some of the information down, such as looking up what or who maman is.

Suddenly, Lola reaches forward, grabbing Adam's arm with a surprisingly strong grasp. "Hey!" Lola whispers with a playful giggle. "You the fellah with the safe? I'm here fer Four-Finger Frankie, I'm his girl. Ya ready? All ya gotta do is cut the wire an we'll be rich!" She giggles, falling back on the pillow. At some point or another, being rich was important.

Adam is grabbed with a bit of a frown and then Lola falls back down into the bed. He looks thoughtful and asks, "Where is your father?" he questions, "Are we getting rich?" he questions, a brow arching as he watches the girl lost in the throes of a happy memory.

Lola laughs as though whatever Adam said is hysterical. "Course we are! Ya said so yerself, ten thousand dollars each of us!" She says, slapping Adam's thigh - rather hard, as it were. "Dad's over on the other side a the buildin'. Doncha remember the plan? I go in, steal the lock door keys from security. Ya climb here an cut the wires ta the silent alarm, an Da'll go in like a fixer man an plug the safe! Ten thousand dollars each!" For Lola, whose voice has oddly become a bit younger, maybe 15 or 16 by the tone of it, 10 thousand seems like winning the lotto.

As he considers how to proceed, he leans down and asks Lola, "And what are you going to do with all that money?" he questions, "Ten thousand dollars is a lot…what wish are you going to make come true?"

Lola falls back on the bed with a loud creak, as though she were talking on a phone like most teenagers do. "Ain gonna work at dat horrible diner no more, no sirree! Gonna stay wif maman, an learn all bout the Orishas, so when I finally get touched I kin become a priestess like her. Didja know my maman, she can heal folks just by touchin' 'em? Sickness an bones an ya name it! Once she even brought a boy back from the dead!"

Adam nods a bit, "Is that so." he says appreciatively. "Well, sounds like you got it all planned out." he pauses a moment and considers asking more questions, but it would do no good to put her in a bad state of mind. His plan only works so long as she has a good trip. So, instead he just lays down cross wise on the bed so that they remain perpendicular to each other, her feet touching his belly as he waits for her to wake up.

About half an hour later, Lola twitches. "Fuckers," she murmers, pushing to sit up. She sees Adam sitting at the foot of her bed and pulls her knees in. "Hey! What'd I tell you about bein all…up close ta me an the like! Thought we decided ya werne' gonna be round me on the bed!" At elast, she decided. "I feel like I just fell asleep an dreamed."

Adam mmms a bit, "I don't believe we talked about it. All I remember was you asking me not to take advantage, which I didn't." he pauses for a few moments and sits up, "Well, it was sort of a dream. What did you dream about?" he questions, "Was it nice?"

Lola rubs her head, as though waking from a long night's rest. "Dreamt…bout a job me an my daddy pulled way back when…I was 16 I think. Robbed some fellah blind, made out of it with 30 grand." She sighs, remembering happily. "My Daddy's got a way of making jobs run smooth."

Adam mms, "How interesting that that's your happiest memory." he pauses and glances around, "You know, you don't have to be a yankee to have a nicer apartment." he says, "I mean….you could at live somewhere where there aren't drug dens on the next floor."

Lola shrugs a bit, swinging her feet over the side of the bed. The bed groans in protest. "Yeah, but then I'd gotta live round folks what live in that kinda area. This way, least the folks are sane." Yes, murderers, thievs, drug dealers, thos are the sane ones to little Lola.

Adam mms, "What an interesting sentiment." he says before he stands up from the bed. "Well, I've got some things to do." he says. He glances over coyly, "Call me if you need me." he says and then heads towards the door.

Lola nods, not really feeling anything bad as of yet. Eventually she will call - for another dose, but for now she waddles her way toward the kitchen, pausing to pull some underwear out of her rear. Charming.

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