What Have I Become?


ash_icon.gif melissa_icon.gif

Scene Title What Have I Become?
Synopsis Melissa runs into Ash again. He asks some good questions.
Date April 16, 2010

Ash's Apartment

Ash walks slowly along the street, his feet moving smoothly, not scuffing on the concrete at all. The man's eyes dart about himself constantly, watching, wary, and alert. But, here on Staten? The likelihood of running into people that will want him is slim, but then again, he's taken that chance once and it nearly cost him his life. So he's alert as he walks along, stopping near the pawn shop, eyes lifting towards the apartment above it, watching the windows, rather obviously checking for movement within the loft apartment. After a few moments of staring he seems satisfied, and turns, leaning back up against the wall of the pawn shop and pulling in a long breath, the exhale emerging as a fog that drifts upwards on the heat of his breath. He reaches into his right pocket, pulling a flask free and it's lifted to his lips for a good mouthful, then capped and put back into his coat pocket.

Not everyone seems to be worried about running into the wrong people tonight. In fact, Melissa doesn't look worried about much anything. Of course she also looks like she'd love to start a fight, if she hasn't already. There's a bandage around her right hand, and a cigarette in the other, one that's lifted to her lips every few moments.

Mel's steps are slow, lazy even, as though she's in no particular hurry to get anywhere. But those already slow steps slow even more when she spots a familiar face and her brow lifts slightly. "You got a precog in your pocket who tells you where I'm gonna go or somethin', Ash?"

Ash has his flask lifted to his lips again when he sees a rather familiar face approaching. A bandage now instead of a sling huh? His lips quirk in amusement, and his head gives a slow shaking motion. He tilts the flask back, another mouthful of whiskey dropped down into it. He swishes that around a bit before swallowing. He doesn't recap the flask, instead, he holds it out towards her as she comes closer. "Beginning to ask the same fucking question myself, that or maybe you're a precog as well and naturally know where I’m gonna be." He huddles into his coat a bit more, avoiding some of the cold as he holds his hand out towards her, flask offered. Though his eyes flicker over the bandaged hand, he doesn't make a comment on it, just turns his gaze back to her face to see if she takes the offered drink.

Melissa shakes her head, taking the flask. "You know good and well I'm not a precog. My talents aren't so pretty," she says before taking a swallow, then offering the flask back to him. "And if I was, I'd have better things to do with my time than follow around a guy that I end up bitching at half the time."

Ash takes the flask back as it's passed over. He takes another swallow from it, then… passes it back, apparently not stingy about sharing his liquor. He swallows the burning liquid as it races it's way into his stomach, warming him, at least for a few seconds, then the warmth fades and leaves him with the cold again. "Nor are mine Mel, nor are mine." He smirks at her, then shifts a bit against the wall, his shoulders slouching, which pulls the coat more fully around him. He barks a loud and amused laugh though at her comment. "I'm sure you fucking would, and yeah, we do end up fighting every time we run into each other." He shakes his head, then flicks his eyes upwards towards the top of the building he's leaning against, then back down to her. "And if I were capable of knowing where you are? I'd follow you around why?" A brow rises up his forehead, a cocky smirk on his lips.

Melissa shakes her head at the offer of the flask, flicking her cigarette into a pile of snow then shoving her hands into her pockets. "Don't know, don't care. Don't give a shit what anyone does anymore, so long as they're not trying to fuck me over or hurt any of the people I got on my very short list of people who are worth a damn."

Ash caps the flask and tucks it back into his pocket when it's refused. He lifts one of his hands, rubbing his palm over his face slowly as he listens to her speak. "Sound like you've got a load on your damn shoulders that you need to unyoke…" He glances upwards, then back down to her, his lips pressing tight together as he tries to come to some kind of decision, an inner war so to speak. "Don't know who's on your list, can't say I'm not trying to hurt any of them." he chuckles lightly, but his face is still deep in thought, his inner debate raging on as he tries to decide on whether to to invite her upstairs to the apartment or not.

Melissa shrugs. "It's four people in a big damn city. I'd say that the chances of you wantin' to hurt these people are slim. And don't got anything to get off my shoulders. I'm a free woman, darlin'. And free women don't have anything to worry about but themselves. You look like somethin's on your mind though. Wanna share?"

Ash snorts to her comment. "Bullshit." He states very simply, bluntly, and clearly. "Free woman maybe, but nothing to unload and shit? Bullshit." He grunts hard before he seems to finally come to a decision. He tilts his head towards the side of the pawnshop, and turns, leading the way around to the back, where there's a stairwell that leads up to a door on the top floor. He hikes up the somewhat rickety wooden steps to the top before he jimmies the handle and pops it open. He slips inside, then stops and steps back. He bends down and scowls as he scoops a key out of the snow. "Knew I dropped you somewhere." Then he's gone into the apartment.

"Hey, doesn't matter to me whether you believe me or not," Melissa says, shrugging. She watches him start to move around the building, then gives another shrug and follows him. Inside's gotta be warmer than out here anyway. And if he bothers her too much, she'll just hurt him. "A pawn shop, huh? Didn't see you as the pawn shop owner type," she says dryly.

Ash shakes his head to the statement. "Shut the door behind yah. And no, I don't own it. In fact. I have no fucking clue who does. I had a run in with some fuckers in white suits… can't remember if I told you about them. Some people saved me. Killed half of the fuckers, but it wasn't enough. These other people saved my ass and put me up here." He grunts and mutters something about pink sparkles, with an f word or two in there, then walks towards the kitchen. "Sure it does. If it didn't you wouldn't have bothered saying that." He calls over his shoulder, pulling down some glasses and filling them up with orange juice. "Want some?"

White suits…"What kind of white suits? Like hazmat type suits? Or Men in Black type suits?" Melissa asks, brow furrowing slightly. Before she starts mentally kicking herself. Doesn't matter now, dammit. Must remember that. "And no, it really doesn't. I barely know you, Ash, and you don't know jack about me other than I can take your pain and was in Moab. So give me one reason why I should give a damn what you think about me?"

Ash glances over his shoulder at the question. "Hazmat type suits. These fuckers knew what they were about and they were there for me. I killed 8 of them." A feral grin splits his lips open to reveal a none too friendly smile. He then repeats his question, waggling the carton in the air. "Want some?" He ignores her little rant about him not knowing anything about her, well, he doesn't ignore it, he simply doesn't respond. The look on his face gets even more snarky and confident. He then just waits with lifted brows for her to give him a yes or no on the OJ.

Melissa shakes her head, then says, "Good. Got attacked by a bunch of guys in hazmat suits the other day. Really pissed me off. Especially when they tossed a gas at me that rendered my ability useless. Well, not useless, but it rendered me powerless."

"What? I said I didn't want any damn juice," Melissa says, sounding irritated now. "If I did, I'd have taken it by now. Christ."

Ash snorts aloud. "The fuck you did. You didn't say a damn fucking word about the damn juice." He grumbles, a good deal of swearing leaving his mouth under his breath about women and juice and everything in between. He brings over the two glasses of OJ anyway, and sets them both down in the middle of the table, where she can grab one if she wishes. He grabs one, taking a slight sip from it before he settles into the chair. There’s six shot glasses on the table, and an empty bottle of whiskey. "Killed 5 of the fuckers on my own before they gassed me. Got another three, and injured two more before they would have had me. Then some… friends… appeared out of fucking no where, put down the rest, and got me out of there. Couple of them were in Moab too. I remembered them from there." He watches her as he sips his juice.

"Yippy for you. Glad you killed the sons of bitches though," Melissa says, remaining standing and leaving the glass on the table. "I didn't take out any myself, but then, I had more important things to worry about."

Ash smirks, a light laugh leaving him. "I enjoy killing fuckers like that. The kind of assholes that built Moab." He leans forwards, putting his arms on the table, which cause it to tilt precariously. "So, what the fuck is on your mind? You look more pissed off than usual and ready to throw a fucking punch for almost no reason at all. Something happened and is on your damn mind. If you can't talk about it that's fine, but unloading helps." He sips from his juice, the big man's eyes curious, but also guarded.

"Yeah, something happened. I got stabbed in the back. And that is absolutely all I can say to you about it, Ash," Melissa says, nodding, then shrugging. "And so what if I throw a punch? A little pain never killed anyone. For that matter, neither did a lot of pain." And if anyone should know, it's Melissa.

Ash ahhhs, and a knowing look comes into his eyes at the mention of the back stabbing. "Have had a few buried in me too." He understands now though what was pissing her off, and it seems to put him a bit more at ease. "Cause walking around wanting to throw a punch will get you into a situation you can't fucking handle. And, as surprised as I am to hear myself say this, I'd actually be upset if someone hurt you. You’re a pain in my fucking ass, and do nothing but piss me off, but… I dunno?" His shoulders lift in a shrug, then settle back down as he takes a long drink of his OJ. "Well, if you need to get some fucking aggression off or something, I doubt you'd be able to hurt me with your bare hands and shit…" He shrugs his shoulders, then picks up the second glass.

Melissa arches a brow. "You'd be upset if I got hurt. Seriously? When you barely know me and half the time we're bitching at each other?" She shakes her head. "You're a strange fuckin' guy, Ash. You know that, right? And for the record, I can cause a hell of a lot of hurt with my bare hands. Don't offer something unless you know all the details and the catch."

Ash shrugs his shoulders not giving an excuse for his statement. "And what of it? There a problem with that? Call it… associative past protection if you want. I don't give a fuck, statement still stands." he sips from his glass and shrugs his shoulders slowly. "I can't turn my ability off. It takes a fuck load of punishment to really hurt me beyond immediate pain from the blow. And, unless you're some kind of fucking martial arts master….?" He cocks a brow, as he can't be positive she's not

The question about martial arts goes unanswered, and Melissa just smiles, ever so faintly. "Trust me, Ash. You never want me going after you with the intention of hurting you. You won't like it." She nods towards his glass. "Enjoy your juice," she says, turning towards the door.

Ash says, "I did say just you, not your power. I said bare hands and shit." He shakes his head slowly and shrugs his shoulders. "And even then, I think you'd be surprised what kind of pain I can force myself through…" he looks down at the table top, obviously remembering things from his past, then lifts his eyes back up towards you, blinking a few times. " I am enjoying my damn juice." he grumbles in her direction."

With her hand on the knob, the door partially opened, Melissa speaks without looking back. The words are soft, barely audible. But he can just make out, "Yeah…they all say that. At first." Then the door is opened fully and she steps back out into the cold night, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Ash blinks and moves to his feet, walking towards her and the door as he realizes she's looking to leave. He blinks a few times, confusion lacing his features. "Where yah goin?" He asks, bewildered. When she steps outside, he follows, course he's not wearing his coat now. "Can I ask why the fuck you're leaving?"

Melissa doesn't stop, just moves down the stairs. "Why wouldn't I leave? Free woman, remember? And this is neither my house or my cage. I want to leave, so I'm leaving."

Ash shakes his head and moves down the stairs after her. "Didn't answer the fucking question Mel. Free woman or not it would be nice to know why the fuck you're leaving. Took quite a fucking risk even taking you up there, probably going to catch all kinds of fucking hell for it."

Melissa shrugs. "I don't need a reason, Ash. I was done talking. I am done talking. Now I want to walk. Alone." Which she does, continuing to move, not even glancing back towards him.

Ash grunts and stops following her down the stairs. "Fine, fuck you too then." He turns and walks back up the stairs, grumbling and swearing quite alot about women, the word bitch used a fair bit in his ranting. The door when it shuts, is slammed hard enough to shift the snow on the stairs.

The response just has Melissa sighing softly, but still she doesn't even pause. However, even as the door slams shut, she begins to softly sing "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. Though the sound is lost in the wind, much like she's soon lost to the darkness.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License