[ she's got the feeling he wants her to say 'no', but even if she hadn't received what she had she doesn't think she has it in her to lie to him. ]
mine did.
[ which is why she'd turned around the second she'd seen it and headed out the door before messaging him. well, no. she'd found the bathroom on her floor and heaved out whatever food she'd managed to get down and some stomach acid before heading out the door and messaging him. at least she'd gotten cleaned up first. ]
[ she still feels nauseous enough that the alcohol might be a bad idea. but she's hoping it'll be enough to make her feel nothing.
his next few messages are enough to make her worry, make her wonder if maybe she should rethink her idea to go over and get wasted with him. she doesn't know the 'he' he's referring to, but it doesn't sound like anyone good. it occurs to her that she doesn't actually know a lot about him. he'd been married. his wife had shot him to death. he's dependent on alcohol and a decent enough person to feel bad about the situations the city keeps insisting on putting them in. that doesn't actually amount to much.
she isn't afraid of him, but she is afraid for him. ]
i don't know if that's what this is. this feels more like the people behind the city trying to get in our heads than anyone who could have any influence from home.
[ speaking from someone who's been on the bad end of physical and psychological torture. although that does beg the question of why they'd been chosen for this place and how they could have known details that specific. more than that, how they'd know how those particular items might upset them. ]
( well, plus side, she probably doesn't need to be afraid of him. unless she marries him. and even then, Daniel has already capped out on participating in Hide and Seek. start young and stop young and all that. )
great. either way i cant just leave it behind.
( maybe he shouldn't get to leave it behind. maybe benefiting from generations of selfishness and cruelty for as long as he did means Daniel shouldn't get to wash his hands of it and try and pretend it didn't happen the second he's removed of it. trying to wrap his head around how to make up for systemic abuse of power is higher thinking he's not capable of right now, so instead Daniel is content just being sullen about it. and probably drink some more.
he has to stare down at the mention she'll see him soon, trying to parse when he levied an invitation. did he???? he doesn't remember. but since misery loves company, he doesn't protest it, either. )
sure, why n ot. you, me, and a goat. sounds like a great time.
[ although she’s got the sense that that’s not what he’s talking about. still, out of sight, out of mind; maybe if he finds a home for it he won’t have to think about whatever memories it’s bringing up.
maybe she’s spent too long dropping by rich people’s residences assuming they would want her company (in her defense, up until recently, she’s usually been correct, and in further defense, did he think she was asking him about having alcohol to spare just out of curiosity?). maybe she should have asked instead of just stating she was coming over. but he doesn’t point that out and she’s too shaken to consider pleasantries. ]
great. thank you.
[ she’d already been on the train by the time she’d gotten the picture of the goat, so it doesn’t take her too long to make her way to the up housing. finding his apartment takes a little longer, but eventually she does, knocking loud enough to be heard over a baby goat’s bleating (if they’re not both hallucinating the goat).
she still doesn’t look great. dark circles hover around her eyes and the bruising from the collar’s healed to a nasty shade of yellow in some spots around her throat. but she mostly looks scared and upset. ]
( the only reason she hears the goat is because Daniel has been guilt tripped to let it out of the bathroom. thanks to watching over the goat more than he's been actively drinking, Daniel has mildly sobered up by the time he hears the knock on his door. but only mildly. the goat endearingly stumbles over its hooves to investigate the sound, meaning it tumbles right into Max's legs when Daniel tries to let her in.
Daniel's head spins a little bit when he stoops to collect the goat, who wheels gangly legs for a moment before bleating piteously and contenting itself with being aloft for the time being. )
Sorry. ( for the goat. for the fact she looks like shit for what she went through at camp. for the fact that neither of them seem to get a break from this place, though arguably an obvious memento of your troubled past seems more traumatic than an adorable baby goat. unless adorable baby goats are obvious mementos of your troubled past, that is.
Daniel looks... well. better than she'd last seen him at camp? he's moved on from withdrawal shakes to movements sluggish with how much he's had to drink. his collar had only gotten exceedingly tight in the first few days, and after that he behaved well and got his quota in. so there's been plenty of time for the bruising to mostly fade, only some yellow-green stains left behind. his beard hasn't had enough chance to recover, though, leaving him looking like he just forgot to shave too many days in a row. better, overall, maybe. depends on how you defined better. and even then, not by much.
when the door closes behind her, Daniel returns the goat to the floor. it gallops away on unsteady baby legs, off to whatever trouble it'd been causing before Max arrived. ) I really don't know what to do about that, ( Daniel confesses, scrubbing a hand over what's left of his whiskers as he watches the goat flop on his carpet, all legs starfished out like it had suddenly deflated. ) Anyway. Drink. You want a drink. Right? ( he vaguely remembers that from her text. hopefully she doesn't want to talk, because he doesn't know he has it in him. )
[ apparently a couple days without encountering him in person at camp had been enough for a fairly significant change in his appearance that had nothing to do with withdrawal symptoms. max is a little too startled by the little goat nearly bowling her over at first to notice the lack of beard, but once she does it gets little more than a raised eyebrow, especially when she remembers the trust exercises. just another way for this place to fuck with them. she doesn't mention it, since he's already well aware of the state of his face, and she's more concerned with the fact that he looks significantly less close to death. she's not sure she can say the same for herself, even now. ]
It's okay. [ she reaches out to awkwardly pet the little thing in his arms before daniel lowers it to the ground, who nuzzles a little at her fingertips before it scampers off to sprawl out on the carpet. it's cute, honestly, but she's not really in the mood for cute. her eyes cant towards him when he mentions not knowing what to do about his new companion, and then he mentions a drink. ]
Yeah. Please. Strongest thing you've got.
[ no, she doesn't want to talk. talking means acknowledging how fucked up and broken she's feeling and she would really rather avoid that for as long as possible. which, among other reasons, was why she'd texted him and not alec, or even lucas. of any of the people she knows here, it feels like he'd get it better than anyone else. ]
( he is, in fact, aware of the state of his face. well, pretty aware. at this point it's the last thing on his mind. maybe in a better mood he could make jokes about his shared shaving experience with a jedi. right now, safe to say he's not in a better mood.
though, he has sobered up enough at the reminder the goat wandering his living room probably isn't a pointed sign from Le Bail. he'd gotten fucked up enough to wonder, or at the very least, fucked up enough that the wonder grew to a living and breathing possibility. it happened if he drank too hard, too fast. Charity would call him a lightweight in that tone that made insults seem less sharp, and most of the time she'd oblige if he stumbled into her bed instead of his own. maybe that's why she got her own place, to cut out the obligation of having him in her bed even part of the time.
it's not a fun rabbit hole to tumble through. Le Bail being real. especially when he'd very recently intentionally attempted to burn his familial institution to the ground, in the hope it wasn't. if he'd managed to save Grace, and Le Bail was real — what did that mean? he'd doomed his entire family? Daniel disliked his family, sure, of course he did. was that the same as wanting all of them dead? definitely not. but that meant Grace deserved to die, and in no way can Daniel wrap his head around that one. drunk or painfully sober.
so he's relieved for an excuse not to think about it. just the city trying to fuck with him, again. why not. ultimately that's less haunting, as Duplicity has felt keen to fuck with him constantly since he got here. he doesn't want to talk about exactly why it had bothered him, which means he's not likely to pry up Max's demons, either. )
Strong I can do. ( after a week without anything, strong is hitting him harder than usual. Daniel is used to drinking alone, drinking with someone else is... well he's not going to call it a pleasant change. but a change. it's harder to keep overwatch on the goat from the kitchen but he goes there anyway to shuffle through his alcohol selection. which is limited, thanks to the flooding, but enough to get him thoroughly plastered. ) Whiskey? Vodka? Bourbon?
[ in all honesty, it doesn't look bad on him. she doubts there's much they could do to him physically to make him less attractive, though it doesn't do the scar on his throat any favors. but she hadn't exactly come over to commiserate about camp. quite the opposite, actually. the little reminder of whatever memories the little guy currently conked out on his living room rug had brought up for him seem to be forgotten in favor of getting her a glass of whatever from his kitchen. he lists a couple options for her and her eyes close momentarily as she tries to remember which has the highest proof and sighing in frustration when the answer doesn't come quickly enough. ]
I don't care. Whatever you're drinking. Just double it, whatever it is.
[ with her metabolism it'll take a while for her to feel it. she's not sure how much, since she doesn't make a habit of drinking hard liquor that often, but she knows more than someone typical of her height and build. ]
( Daniel might be that guy, trying to talk about what happened, if he were a little less shitfaced right now. after all, they'd had sex again. hell, she'd probably saved his life, looking back on it. maybe he should apologize. or be grateful. promise he'll keep on his own quota so she won't be stuck worrying about him like that again. something. anything.
instead, helping her drink to forget seems a lot more achievable. he'd like to forget camp. forget his addiction, and the ugly reality of how bad it really is. he'd like to forget satanic sacrifices being used as a cruel gotcha by the mother fuckers that run this shitty city, too. he won't forget for long, but as long as it's for now he doesn't care. )
I like bourbon. Just like the old man. ( something about how Daniel says this makes it clear that he's not proud to have even a drink in common with his father. he fills the glass he's been drinking from, and pushes it along the counter to Max. the lady gets the glass, he'll just take his hits straight from the bottle. fumbling through his cabinets for another glass is just too much work right about now. )
[ it had been a lot worse this time around, she suspects for them both, both in how it felt and in the circumstances leading up to it. weirdly, she regrets it a lot less. all things considered she'd rather he be alive than dead, and while it's not going down as one of her top ten experiences, it had been enough for them both to survive the misery of camp.
she comes around to the kitchen, collecting the glass he's poured for her and left on the counter and swirling its contents around, sniffing it a bit. it's strong, definitely. it might take less for her to get buzzed than she thought. she looks up to daniel when he mentions liking it, just like his dad, and part of her wants to ask about it, but the point of the night is not to ask. she takes a swallow from the glass instead. ]
It's not bad. [ it's also strong, which is all she really cares about. she takes another swallow, longer this time. ] Where'd you find it?
[ she's definitely not asking for future reference. ]
( vodka is stronger, for sure, but Daniel has always thought drinking vodka couldn't be far off from drinking drain cleaner. nothing enjoyable about the experience, and while technically he was never drinking to enjoy himself, was it so bad if he sort of liked his poison?
there's not a lot to say if she did ask about it. his father likes bourbon, and against better judgment and a great deal of determined contrarianism, Daniel does too. even a broken clock was right twice a day, and Tony might have bleached the most noticeable tells of his southern roots away, the bourbon remained. probably why Daniel ended up liking it, it was the easiest thing to find in the house when he was a kid. )
Some place in the Down. I don't fucking know. ( if Max is determined to know where he buys his shit, she'll have to ask him again when he's a little closer to sober. Daniel is drifting over the line of barely functional and an entire shutdown, which isn't the level of drunk he usually goes for, it just turns out he really wants to be fucked up right about now. )
That made me sound like an asshole. Shit. ( Daniel lags slightly over the counter, rubbing his forehead. ) Probably because I am an asshole. I don't know how you haven't realized that yet. ( surely Max hasn't noticed, though, because she doesn't seem the sort to have any patience for terrible people. she gives a shit about things, will pick up a fight nobody asked her to because she believes in what she's doing. that's not the sort of person he's used to having in his life. )
[ 'some place in the down' just tells her it's close enough for her to find it on her own, so his outburst (if it can be called that) gets little more than a raised eyebrow before she takes another swallow of the liquid. honestly, it was pretty rude and if she were feeling less like shit about everything, she might have had something to say about it, but with things as they are she's less inclined to care, especially when he goes on to point it out himself. ]
Whatever. [ not the worst thing someone's said to her while they were drunk. she takes another drink, trying to feel the effects as quickly as she can. there's a warm, buzzy feeling in her face and limbs, but it's not really enough for her, so she drains the rest of the glass, setting it in the center of the counter as she leans forward on her elbows, meeting him in the middle. ]
You could be worse. [ he's right, she doesn't have patience for terrible people. but nothing he's shown her really puts him into that category. granted, there's very little they actually know about each other and he hasn't exactly been putting his best foot forward since she's known him, but it means something that he's aware of that. ]
(could be worse. sure. that's not quite the same as being good, though, is it. she's pegged him pretty well considering he hasn't bothered to explain much about himself, or who he was before Duplicity. he probably should. it's only fair, to give her a reason to run the other way. only the last thing he could possibly want to do right about now is talk about his family, or Le Bail, or deadly midnight games. )
Cheers to that. ( because that's what this night is about, right? not talking. not reliving. not explaining. just drowning it and hoping it'll go away, at least for a night. so Daniel drops a little more in Max's glass and hovers the bottle out for the appropriate clink. he figures they should stop talking and start drinking, because that's the fastest route to forgetting. )
[ it's possible she'll be upset he didn't reveal more sooner if and when she eventually finds out. max doesn't particularly like it when people aren't honest with her, which is a bit hypocritical given how much of herself she tends to hide about herself. she's told him a fair amount about her background, but there's a lot involved that she hadn't gotten into.
maybe they'll get into their tragic backstories, eventually. hell, they'll probably be compelled to or have the ugliest parts of themselves exposed somehow. right now there are no such factors getting them to talk about things they don't want to, so she lifts her glass once he tops her off and clinks it against his bottle. ]
( turns out, most people hate it when you aren't honest with them. it has never stopped Daniel from being dishonest, or at least, avoiding bringing up the truth. he's very honest, when he has to be. when there's souls and satanic contracts on the line. that kind of honesty doesn't generally come out unprovoked, though. it'll happen, one day. probably. especially if this contract stretches farther than 3 months to get her by until she finds greener pastures.
for now, though, Daniel would like to put Mr. Le Bail as far from his mind as possible. which is kind of hard, when there's a goat gnawing at his shoelaces. he toes the baby gently away and focuses on the clink of glass, before he takes a hit straight from the bottle. )
Cheers, ( he agrees, a breath late, burn still tracing down his throat. no thoughts, drinks only, starting now. that sounds like a great plan. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
i dunno. it was just hhere.
do you thin k
that home can follow us. find us. here.
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mine did.
[ which is why she'd turned around the second she'd seen it and headed out the door before messaging him. well, no. she'd found the bathroom on her floor and heaved out whatever food she'd managed to get down and some stomach acid before heading out the door and messaging him. at least she'd gotten cleaned up first. ]
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i th ought it c ould be different here. on my own.
but it 's like he's watch ing me. laughing at me.
( that... doesn't make any sense. sorry Max. )
i haven't thought he was real since i was in grade sch ool. jesus christ. i need another drink
( which probably isn't going to make him any more coherent, but hey, if Max wants to drink, she'd definitely have company. )
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his next few messages are enough to make her worry, make her wonder if maybe she should rethink her idea to go over and get wasted with him. she doesn't know the 'he' he's referring to, but it doesn't sound like anyone good. it occurs to her that she doesn't actually know a lot about him. he'd been married. his wife had shot him to death. he's dependent on alcohol and a decent enough person to feel bad about the situations the city keeps insisting on putting them in. that doesn't actually amount to much.
she isn't afraid of him, but she is afraid for him. ]
i don't know if that's what this is. this feels more like the people behind the city trying to get in our heads than anyone who could have any influence from home.
[ speaking from someone who's been on the bad end of physical and psychological torture. although that does beg the question of why they'd been chosen for this place and how they could have known details that specific. more than that, how they'd know how those particular items might upset them. ]
i'll be there soon.
no subject
great. either way i cant just leave it behind.
( maybe he shouldn't get to leave it behind. maybe benefiting from generations of selfishness and cruelty for as long as he did means Daniel shouldn't get to wash his hands of it and try and pretend it didn't happen the second he's removed of it. trying to wrap his head around how to make up for systemic abuse of power is higher thinking he's not capable of right now, so instead Daniel is content just being sullen about it. and probably drink some more.
he has to stare down at the mention she'll see him soon, trying to parse when he levied an invitation. did he???? he doesn't remember. but since misery loves company, he doesn't protest it, either. )
sure, why n ot. you, me, and a goat. sounds like a great time.
no subject
[ although she’s got the sense that that’s not what he’s talking about. still, out of sight, out of mind; maybe if he finds a home for it he won’t have to think about whatever memories it’s bringing up.
maybe she’s spent too long dropping by rich people’s residences assuming they would want her company (in her defense, up until recently, she’s usually been correct, and in further defense, did he think she was asking him about having alcohol to spare just out of curiosity?). maybe she should have asked instead of just stating she was coming over. but he doesn’t point that out and she’s too shaken to consider pleasantries. ]
great. thank you.
[ she’d already been on the train by the time she’d gotten the picture of the goat, so it doesn’t take her too long to make her way to the up housing. finding his apartment takes a little longer, but eventually she does, knocking loud enough to be heard over a baby goat’s bleating (if they’re not both hallucinating the goat).
she still doesn’t look great. dark circles hover around her eyes and the bruising from the collar’s healed to a nasty shade of yellow in some spots around her throat. but she mostly looks scared and upset. ]
no subject
Daniel's head spins a little bit when he stoops to collect the goat, who wheels gangly legs for a moment before bleating piteously and contenting itself with being aloft for the time being. )
Sorry. ( for the goat. for the fact she looks like shit for what she went through at camp. for the fact that neither of them seem to get a break from this place, though arguably an obvious memento of your troubled past seems more traumatic than an adorable baby goat. unless adorable baby goats are obvious mementos of your troubled past, that is.
Daniel looks... well. better than she'd last seen him at camp? he's moved on from withdrawal shakes to movements sluggish with how much he's had to drink. his collar had only gotten exceedingly tight in the first few days, and after that he behaved well and got his quota in. so there's been plenty of time for the bruising to mostly fade, only some yellow-green stains left behind. his beard hasn't had enough chance to recover, though, leaving him looking like he just forgot to shave too many days in a row. better, overall, maybe. depends on how you defined better. and even then, not by much.
when the door closes behind her, Daniel returns the goat to the floor. it gallops away on unsteady baby legs, off to whatever trouble it'd been causing before Max arrived. ) I really don't know what to do about that, ( Daniel confesses, scrubbing a hand over what's left of his whiskers as he watches the goat flop on his carpet, all legs starfished out like it had suddenly deflated. ) Anyway. Drink. You want a drink. Right? ( he vaguely remembers that from her text. hopefully she doesn't want to talk, because he doesn't know he has it in him. )
no subject
It's okay. [ she reaches out to awkwardly pet the little thing in his arms before daniel lowers it to the ground, who nuzzles a little at her fingertips before it scampers off to sprawl out on the carpet. it's cute, honestly, but she's not really in the mood for cute. her eyes cant towards him when he mentions not knowing what to do about his new companion, and then he mentions a drink. ]
Yeah. Please. Strongest thing you've got.
[ no, she doesn't want to talk. talking means acknowledging how fucked up and broken she's feeling and she would really rather avoid that for as long as possible. which, among other reasons, was why she'd texted him and not alec, or even lucas. of any of the people she knows here, it feels like he'd get it better than anyone else. ]
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though, he has sobered up enough at the reminder the goat wandering his living room probably isn't a pointed sign from Le Bail. he'd gotten fucked up enough to wonder, or at the very least, fucked up enough that the wonder grew to a living and breathing possibility. it happened if he drank too hard, too fast. Charity would call him a lightweight in that tone that made insults seem less sharp, and most of the time she'd oblige if he stumbled into her bed instead of his own. maybe that's why she got her own place, to cut out the obligation of having him in her bed even part of the time.
it's not a fun rabbit hole to tumble through. Le Bail being real. especially when he'd very recently intentionally attempted to burn his familial institution to the ground, in the hope it wasn't. if he'd managed to save Grace, and Le Bail was real — what did that mean? he'd doomed his entire family? Daniel disliked his family, sure, of course he did. was that the same as wanting all of them dead? definitely not. but that meant Grace deserved to die, and in no way can Daniel wrap his head around that one. drunk or painfully sober.
so he's relieved for an excuse not to think about it. just the city trying to fuck with him, again. why not. ultimately that's less haunting, as Duplicity has felt keen to fuck with him constantly since he got here. he doesn't want to talk about exactly why it had bothered him, which means he's not likely to pry up Max's demons, either. )
Strong I can do. ( after a week without anything, strong is hitting him harder than usual. Daniel is used to drinking alone, drinking with someone else is... well he's not going to call it a pleasant change. but a change. it's harder to keep overwatch on the goat from the kitchen but he goes there anyway to shuffle through his alcohol selection. which is limited, thanks to the flooding, but enough to get him thoroughly plastered. ) Whiskey? Vodka? Bourbon?
no subject
I don't care. Whatever you're drinking. Just double it, whatever it is.
[ with her metabolism it'll take a while for her to feel it. she's not sure how much, since she doesn't make a habit of drinking hard liquor that often, but she knows more than someone typical of her height and build. ]
no subject
instead, helping her drink to forget seems a lot more achievable. he'd like to forget camp. forget his addiction, and the ugly reality of how bad it really is. he'd like to forget satanic sacrifices being used as a cruel gotcha by the mother fuckers that run this shitty city, too. he won't forget for long, but as long as it's for now he doesn't care. )
I like bourbon. Just like the old man. ( something about how Daniel says this makes it clear that he's not proud to have even a drink in common with his father. he fills the glass he's been drinking from, and pushes it along the counter to Max. the lady gets the glass, he'll just take his hits straight from the bottle. fumbling through his cabinets for another glass is just too much work right about now. )
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she comes around to the kitchen, collecting the glass he's poured for her and left on the counter and swirling its contents around, sniffing it a bit. it's strong, definitely. it might take less for her to get buzzed than she thought. she looks up to daniel when he mentions liking it, just like his dad, and part of her wants to ask about it, but the point of the night is not to ask. she takes a swallow from the glass instead. ]
It's not bad. [ it's also strong, which is all she really cares about. she takes another swallow, longer this time. ] Where'd you find it?
[ she's definitely not asking for future reference. ]
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there's not a lot to say if she did ask about it. his father likes bourbon, and against better judgment and a great deal of determined contrarianism, Daniel does too. even a broken clock was right twice a day, and Tony might have bleached the most noticeable tells of his southern roots away, the bourbon remained. probably why Daniel ended up liking it, it was the easiest thing to find in the house when he was a kid. )
Some place in the Down. I don't fucking know. ( if Max is determined to know where he buys his shit, she'll have to ask him again when he's a little closer to sober. Daniel is drifting over the line of barely functional and an entire shutdown, which isn't the level of drunk he usually goes for, it just turns out he really wants to be fucked up right about now. )
That made me sound like an asshole. Shit. ( Daniel lags slightly over the counter, rubbing his forehead. ) Probably because I am an asshole. I don't know how you haven't realized that yet. ( surely Max hasn't noticed, though, because she doesn't seem the sort to have any patience for terrible people. she gives a shit about things, will pick up a fight nobody asked her to because she believes in what she's doing. that's not the sort of person he's used to having in his life. )
no subject
Whatever. [ not the worst thing someone's said to her while they were drunk. she takes another drink, trying to feel the effects as quickly as she can. there's a warm, buzzy feeling in her face and limbs, but it's not really enough for her, so she drains the rest of the glass, setting it in the center of the counter as she leans forward on her elbows, meeting him in the middle. ]
You could be worse. [ he's right, she doesn't have patience for terrible people. but nothing he's shown her really puts him into that category. granted, there's very little they actually know about each other and he hasn't exactly been putting his best foot forward since she's known him, but it means something that he's aware of that. ]
no subject
( could be worse. sure. that's not quite the same as being good, though, is it. she's pegged him pretty well considering he hasn't bothered to explain much about himself, or who he was before Duplicity. he probably should. it's only fair, to give her a reason to run the other way. only the last thing he could possibly want to do right about now is talk about his family, or Le Bail, or deadly midnight games. )
Cheers to that. ( because that's what this night is about, right? not talking. not reliving. not explaining. just drowning it and hoping it'll go away, at least for a night. so Daniel drops a little more in Max's glass and hovers the bottle out for the appropriate clink. he figures they should stop talking and start drinking, because that's the fastest route to forgetting. )
no subject
maybe they'll get into their tragic backstories, eventually. hell, they'll probably be compelled to or have the ugliest parts of themselves exposed somehow. right now there are no such factors getting them to talk about things they don't want to, so she lifts her glass once he tops her off and clinks it against his bottle. ]
Cheers.
no subject
for now, though, Daniel would like to put Mr. Le Bail as far from his mind as possible. which is kind of hard, when there's a goat gnawing at his shoelaces. he toes the baby gently away and focuses on the clink of glass, before he takes a hit straight from the bottle. )
Cheers, ( he agrees, a breath late, burn still tracing down his throat. no thoughts, drinks only, starting now. that sounds like a great plan. )