"Hmm, yes. I know about that," I muttered, mostly to myself. Care to much and get yourself in trouble. It's a very good set up highroad to a disaster. Not a mistake I was going to be making again any time soon, not if I could help it. My not caring much about anything any longer was a big help.
I still couldn't help but wonder who else was back from the dead? Anyone I'd known? But if that were the case, wouldn't Faith have told me? Unless she didn't know how, or was asked not to. She might have mentioned it to Miss Ramsey here in shock. Or maybe she just didn't have time. So...who else was back? Angel? Spike? Gunn? Cordy maybe? Illyria...
Christ, I need a drink. I think I'm due for my third bottle for the evening soon.
"Sleep," I slurred, "Ish oper-orrer-overrated," I nodded, quite possibly far to many times. "Because the moment you close your eyes?" I whispered, "They'll be there, clutching and clawing and trying to pull you in." Sometimes I wonder if I actually had left Hell at all when I woke up.
"The name's Weshely, by the-the way. Wyndam-Pryce is my bastard of a father. We jusht happen to be scar-sharing the same last name. Un-f-fortunatly. I could knock you uncinc-unkwinc- out, but if our good friends Johnny and Jack aren't helping...well..."
"Oh, they help enough to get a few hours total in. Only thing that works, really." Except...no. That had to have been a fluke. "An' I'd rather stay mostly conse-consc-awake while I'm in the pub. And sorry 'bout the name thing, Wesley. You can drop the 'miss', too, you know. 'M fine with just Ramsey, or Dian if you'd rather." I took a long swig and found when I finished that I'd emptied it. "Damn..."
I sighed. "Should have brought a bottle with me...got a lot stashed under my bed in a duffle bag. But the one good thing about not doing it is I get to spend the Council's money for another one." I bought another bottle and returned to the table. "Want me t' get you one, too, Wesley? Make the wankers pay for it, eh?"
"Hmm, I know. They say meditication works to, but I'm not going to f-find that out." It'll influence the thinking too, medicine does. Alcohol only makes you a bit more cheerful, and the world a bit blurry. Of course the lack of glasses already did that, but that's okay. The world's a blurred place anyway.
"Ramsey?" I wrinkled my nose at that with a bit of distaste. "Ramsey's a lad's name," I pointed out, watching my finger for a moment before pulling it back quickly. "Dian's nicer, Dian." Nodding far to long at that, I glared at my bottle. Which was empty. Buggeration. How was that possible?
"Huh?" Running that over in my head, a slow smile spread over my face. Let the Council of Wankes pay for the dead? That's was funny, it was so funny it actually made me laugh for a moment. Which...hurt. Cradling my head but still smiling, I shook my head at her. "I like you, Dian. Let's get us an-another bottle and toast on the Wankers for their guneri-genror- generosity."
"Yes, you've got a point about the names. I think Dian's nicer, too." I grinned and chuckled a little. "Glad you like me. It's kind of...nice, not drinking alone for once. Can comizer-comis- understand things, too, even if it's different, and it's nice, having someone know how awful trying to sleep is."
I bought him another bottle, and an extra for each of us in case we ran out again before we decided to leave. I handed him the bottle and raised my in toast. "To the Council. May they never run out of money, so we can keep spending it things they'd rather we didn't."
Gloominess aside, this was rather nice. And he wasn't so bad, really. Lot more interesting to talk than I'd have thought.
"Hear, hear," I cheered on toast. This was actually, nice. Even the patrons weren't looking at me as though they'd rather have me gone. They seemed surprised that there was someone who'd voluntarily sat down with me even. To be honest, so was I, even if it did turn out to be a somewhat kindred...spirit.
Spirit. How double. We were spirits in a way, who were in high spirits, drinking spirits.
Snorting at my own lame joke, I took a swig from the bottle and sighed contently when the amber liquid burned down my throat. "That's the good stuff," I murmured. "You w-wouldn't believe the sk-shit they had the nerve to call Alecohol in the States." A shudder ran through me when I recalled Gunn's beer, though a sad smile soon followed it.
"Sometimes I miss it," I admitted, slumping down in my seat. "My...friends." Alright, I'm getting to comfortable around her, time to head back to the safe-house very soon.
"Indeed. Very good stuff. I knew there was a good reason to stay away from most products made there, as far as the alcohol." I grinned a little when he snorted, but didn't ask. It didn't matter, after all. But at least he'd thought of something funny.
"Mmm. Must be hard. Never really had that many friends, myself. Mostly just associates. No one I'd miss terribly who didn't die long before I did, and they were in England anyway." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I should probably get a cab while I could still walk to it relatively well. I took a long swig and thumped the bottle down on the table.
Go back and crawl off to my room and drink till I passed out. Good idea as always. "'S nice," I said again, "Havin' someone t' drink with."
"You're better off without them," I slur, leaning my arms on the table and resting my chin on them. I watch the light play in the amber liquid inside the bottle, turning it to gold and brown with little sparkles. The way life used to be. All gold with sparkles, a little bit of brown sometimes. Now, now it's all black and depressing.
"Once you get friends, you'll end up loosing them and then... poof! You're turning into a morose drunk who bemun-rewon- bemoans being alive constanterly." Oh. Wait. That's me. Now that's just funny. Another snort gets out at those words and it quickly turns into a giggle. Great. I'm so drunk I'm giggling, it's been a long time since that's happened.
"Yes," I agree, "S nice. Even if you make me giggle. You-you're a bad girl, Dian," I mutter, spinning the empty bottle on the table and grinning when it points at her. "Oh, looks l-like you'se it. How does zhis game go again?"
I managed to contain a snort when he giggled. But he did have a point about friends, in a way. Ones I'd had before had hurt me. Attachments. Pain. I really should buy a statue of the Buddha sometime when I was sober. Nice sized one so I can set a bottle in his lap or something. I giggled a little at that.
Then I did snort. "Should have known me when I was younger. Bit wild for a while, y'know, def'nitely a bad girl." I blinked and looked down at the bottle. "Mm. Looks like I am."
I scratched my head for a moment, thinking. "If I remember this...think it means we hafta kiss or somethin'."
"Sort of like Ruperts then?" I ask, remembering the stories I'd been told 'in confidence' about one Rupert Giles. How he wasn't the right choice to be anyone's watcher because of his dark, dark past. Why is it that every bloody watcher I've met has at one point rebelled but me?
Obviously I've done something very wrong. Then again, father would've eviscerated me if the word rebellious would've even past my lips. He would have. Literally. I know that now, that cyborg I shot was the spitting image of him. In every way.
Bleary eyed I look at the bottle before my eyes flick up at Dian. "Really?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "I thought you were zupozed to tell the truth or some-something. Huh. No offense, but I'm not the-the kissing type no more."
Sighing, I shook my head and reached for the bottle. "Stupid game anyway. Jush like truth or dare, I've nothing to hide in either case and it zounds like you sp-spilled the beans too." A healthy swig gets taken from the new bottle, making me groan as the bitter taste goes down my throat.
"Eh, I was no Ripper. Just some mindless sex in my twenties, really." I took a swig and blinked. Good and strong, that stuff.
I squinted at the empty bottle. "Dunno. Too many things involving bottles to remember what's bloody what. And I can't blame on the kishin'. Ends in bloody heartbreak one way or another. Even the non-romantic stuff seems t' do that."
I nodded. "Is stupid, yes. Things kids and teenagers do. Ohhhh, teenagers. Headaches, most of 'em."
"Mindless sex huh? Hmmm, that's where I mustht've gone wrong." Nodding at that, I gingerly touch my cheek, thinking I'll probably not going to get any mindless sex looking like this. Then again, the time for mindless sex is so very over for me.
I'll just be mindless.
"Sick of games," I mutter, remembering the game Angel played just before we took out the Senior Partners. If indeed we even took them out. Oh I’m getting more morose then usual, and that in company. That cannot be good, before I know it what I’m thinking will be out of my mouth. Really time to go home now.
"Gamesh are stupid. And-and so are teenagers and kids. Nothing but t-trouble. Connor was a kid, gave me nothing but trouble and all I did!" I start, raising my voice as well as my finger, "wash trying to save him and-and Angel. The Council of Wankers is welcome to those Shlayers." Holding up my bottle, I clink it against her, "more power to t-them. Bloody serves them right eh?"
"Mmm. Can't say I like most games. Liked sparring, if that could be called a game. Darts, too. But that's about it. But drinking games can be all right." I took another swig and ran a hand through my hair. Been years since I'd done any of those.
He clinked his bottle against mine and I nodded. "They can barely handle one Slayer, rather apparently can't handle two...and now they've got them popping up willy-nilly all over the bloody globe. 'S not gonna go well, I'm thinkin'."
Faith would be fine, though. She was Faith, after all. My girl. I rubbed my face; I really, really needed to stop thinking of her as mine. She wasn't mine, she was her own, and she wasn't even my Slayer anymore. Suck it up, Dian.
"Sparring ishent a game," I tell her with a shrug. Ow. "'S what my father always told me. Pay attention boy!" I say with an eerily good imitation of my father. "It's not a bloody game!" Waggling my finger, I blink at the blurred digit flying past and quickly lower my hand.
It's amusing to find another ex-watcher who torougly agrees with me where the Council is concerned. "I'm thinking the same," I agree, "in way over their heads. Poor Rupers... well, no. I take that back. He killed my girlfriend, he doesn't get to be poor Rupes."
Yes, definitely time to go home. My eye tick over toward the rest of the pub and notice it's as good as empty. Woops. "I think we sho-should head to our respective abodes," I slur, taking several tries to get up. "Cause the chap behind the bar is giving us the glare-o-doom."
Finally getting up, I sway dangerously before taking hold of one of the wooden beams over my head. "Woops," I giggle, "When did we leave the harbor? Anyway, Miss Dian. Thank you so much for this l-lovely evening of sharing doom and-and gloom and general depression."
Giving her a salute, I nearly topple over but manage to hold onto the nice, sturdy wooden beam. "Itsh been my pleasure. Can I drop you off somewhere?"
"Mm. Probably would depend on how one's sparring partner viewed it. Must say I do not envy his position at all." I blinked when he said that Rupert had killed his girlfriend. Given what little I knew of things in the world at the moment, I took it to mean that he'd somehow gotten her killed.
I glanced at the bartender when he said that. The man was, indeed, glaring. "Bloody scary eyebrows he's got, too," I said. I watched him sway and for a moment wondered if I should brace myself to catch him. He righted himself and I decided I'd only fall down with him.
"My pleasure as well. I was goin' t' get a cab t' take me back t' the Menagerie of Teenage Girls, actually. Don't suppose you'd want to go that far. Probably a bit out of the way of...wherever you're stashed at the moment."
"Oh *god* no," I gasp, blinking at the blurred figure in front of me. "I've had my f-fill of gaggles of teenaged girls back in Hunnysale-Sunnydale. Good lord, how can-can you stand it?"
I'm baffled. I think if I were to stay between that menagerie I'd go mad. Well, even more then I already seem to be at any case. I may end up hurting one of them in a... actually, they'll probably end up hurting. No thank you, I've had my fill of Slayers for the rest of my bloody life.
However long that'll be this time.
"I'm staying at a...oh..." Opening the door for her, we stagger into the crips, cold night making me pull my coat around me a bit tighter. Hmmm, maybe it'll snow after all. "Shhh, I'm shtaying at a sek-suk-secret location." Nodding seriously, I glance up and down the street in search of a taxi for her.
"I t-think I'll walk back. Ish not that far, Miss Dian. Getting some f-fresh air is good I've been told." And then sneak back in, hope Faith hasn't come back to glare at me for being drunk. Again. "Don't seem to be ma-many taxi's around huh?"
"Mostly I stay in my room," I answered truthfully. I really was more suited to small groups; had been all my life, except when large groups were utterly anonymous things like pubs or clubs. And my clubbing days were long past.
A secret place, hm? "I see. I shan't tell anyone I ran into you, then. Not that I've really talked to more than two people there anyway."
I glanced around for a bloody cab and, as he pointed out, there didn't seem to be a single one in sight. "Stupid drivers," I muttered. "Looks like I might be walkin' back as well. Though this time I don't think I'll climb the bloody gate. Too cold and I think the guards know I'm around now, anyway."
I still couldn't help but wonder who else was back from the dead? Anyone I'd known? But if that were the case, wouldn't Faith have told me? Unless she didn't know how, or was asked not to. She might have mentioned it to Miss Ramsey here in shock. Or maybe she just didn't have time. So...who else was back? Angel? Spike? Gunn? Cordy maybe? Illyria...
Christ, I need a drink. I think I'm due for my third bottle for the evening soon.
"Sleep," I slurred, "Ish oper-orrer-overrated," I nodded, quite possibly far to many times. "Because the moment you close your eyes?" I whispered, "They'll be there, clutching and clawing and trying to pull you in." Sometimes I wonder if I actually had left Hell at all when I woke up.
"The name's Weshely, by the-the way. Wyndam-Pryce is my bastard of a father. We jusht happen to be scar-sharing the same last name. Un-f-fortunatly. I could knock you uncinc-unkwinc- out, but if our good friends Johnny and Jack aren't helping...well..."
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I sighed. "Should have brought a bottle with me...got a lot stashed under my bed in a duffle bag. But the one good thing about not doing it is I get to spend the Council's money for another one." I bought another bottle and returned to the table. "Want me t' get you one, too, Wesley? Make the wankers pay for it, eh?"
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"Ramsey?" I wrinkled my nose at that with a bit of distaste. "Ramsey's a lad's name," I pointed out, watching my finger for a moment before pulling it back quickly. "Dian's nicer, Dian." Nodding far to long at that, I glared at my bottle. Which was empty. Buggeration. How was that possible?
"Huh?" Running that over in my head, a slow smile spread over my face. Let the Council of Wankes pay for the dead? That's was funny, it was so funny it actually made me laugh for a moment. Which...hurt. Cradling my head but still smiling, I shook my head at her. "I like you, Dian. Let's get us an-another bottle and toast on the Wankers for their guneri-genror- generosity."
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I bought him another bottle, and an extra for each of us in case we ran out again before we decided to leave. I handed him the bottle and raised my in toast. "To the Council. May they never run out of money, so we can keep spending it things they'd rather we didn't."
Gloominess aside, this was rather nice. And he wasn't so bad, really. Lot more interesting to talk than I'd have thought.
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Spirit. How double. We were spirits in a way, who were in high spirits, drinking spirits.
Snorting at my own lame joke, I took a swig from the bottle and sighed contently when the amber liquid burned down my throat. "That's the good stuff," I murmured. "You w-wouldn't believe the sk-shit they had the nerve to call Alecohol in the States." A shudder ran through me when I recalled Gunn's beer, though a sad smile soon followed it.
"Sometimes I miss it," I admitted, slumping down in my seat. "My...friends." Alright, I'm getting to comfortable around her, time to head back to the safe-house very soon.
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"Mmm. Must be hard. Never really had that many friends, myself. Mostly just associates. No one I'd miss terribly who didn't die long before I did, and they were in England anyway." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I should probably get a cab while I could still walk to it relatively well. I took a long swig and thumped the bottle down on the table.
Go back and crawl off to my room and drink till I passed out. Good idea as always. "'S nice," I said again, "Havin' someone t' drink with."
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"Once you get friends, you'll end up loosing them and then... poof! You're turning into a morose drunk who bemun-rewon- bemoans being alive constanterly." Oh. Wait. That's me. Now that's just funny. Another snort gets out at those words and it quickly turns into a giggle. Great. I'm so drunk I'm giggling, it's been a long time since that's happened.
"Yes," I agree, "S nice. Even if you make me giggle. You-you're a bad girl, Dian," I mutter, spinning the empty bottle on the table and grinning when it points at her. "Oh, looks l-like you'se it. How does zhis game go again?"
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Then I did snort. "Should have known me when I was younger. Bit wild for a while, y'know, def'nitely a bad girl." I blinked and looked down at the bottle. "Mm. Looks like I am."
I scratched my head for a moment, thinking. "If I remember this...think it means we hafta kiss or somethin'."
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Obviously I've done something very wrong. Then again, father would've eviscerated me if the word rebellious would've even past my lips. He would have. Literally. I know that now, that cyborg I shot was the spitting image of him. In every way.
Bleary eyed I look at the bottle before my eyes flick up at Dian. "Really?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "I thought you were zupozed to tell the truth or some-something. Huh. No offense, but I'm not the-the kissing type no more."
Sighing, I shook my head and reached for the bottle. "Stupid game anyway. Jush like truth or dare, I've nothing to hide in either case and it zounds like you sp-spilled the beans too." A healthy swig gets taken from the new bottle, making me groan as the bitter taste goes down my throat.
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I squinted at the empty bottle. "Dunno. Too many things involving bottles to remember what's bloody what. And I can't blame on the kishin'. Ends in bloody heartbreak one way or another. Even the non-romantic stuff seems t' do that."
I nodded. "Is stupid, yes. Things kids and teenagers do. Ohhhh, teenagers. Headaches, most of 'em."
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I'll just be mindless.
"Sick of games," I mutter, remembering the game Angel played just before we took out the Senior Partners. If indeed we even took them out. Oh I’m getting more morose then usual, and that in company. That cannot be good, before I know it what I’m thinking will be out of my mouth. Really time to go home now.
"Gamesh are stupid. And-and so are teenagers and kids. Nothing but t-trouble. Connor was a kid, gave me nothing but trouble and all I did!" I start, raising my voice as well as my finger, "wash trying to save him and-and Angel. The Council of Wankers is welcome to those Shlayers." Holding up my bottle, I clink it against her, "more power to t-them. Bloody serves them right eh?"
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He clinked his bottle against mine and I nodded. "They can barely handle one Slayer, rather apparently can't handle two...and now they've got them popping up willy-nilly all over the bloody globe. 'S not gonna go well, I'm thinkin'."
Faith would be fine, though. She was Faith, after all. My girl. I rubbed my face; I really, really needed to stop thinking of her as mine. She wasn't mine, she was her own, and she wasn't even my Slayer anymore. Suck it up, Dian.
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It's amusing to find another ex-watcher who torougly agrees with me where the Council is concerned. "I'm thinking the same," I agree, "in way over their heads. Poor Rupers... well, no. I take that back. He killed my girlfriend, he doesn't get to be poor Rupes."
Yes, definitely time to go home. My eye tick over toward the rest of the pub and notice it's as good as empty. Woops. "I think we sho-should head to our respective abodes," I slur, taking several tries to get up. "Cause the chap behind the bar is giving us the glare-o-doom."
Finally getting up, I sway dangerously before taking hold of one of the wooden beams over my head. "Woops," I giggle, "When did we leave the harbor? Anyway, Miss Dian. Thank you so much for this l-lovely evening of sharing doom and-and gloom and general depression."
Giving her a salute, I nearly topple over but manage to hold onto the nice, sturdy wooden beam. "Itsh been my pleasure. Can I drop you off somewhere?"
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I glanced at the bartender when he said that. The man was, indeed, glaring. "Bloody scary eyebrows he's got, too," I said. I watched him sway and for a moment wondered if I should brace myself to catch him. He righted himself and I decided I'd only fall down with him.
"My pleasure as well. I was goin' t' get a cab t' take me back t' the Menagerie of Teenage Girls, actually. Don't suppose you'd want to go that far. Probably a bit out of the way of...wherever you're stashed at the moment."
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I'm baffled. I think if I were to stay between that menagerie I'd go mad. Well, even more then I already seem to be at any case. I may end up hurting one of them in a... actually, they'll probably end up hurting. No thank you, I've had my fill of Slayers for the rest of my bloody life.
However long that'll be this time.
"I'm staying at a...oh..." Opening the door for her, we stagger into the crips, cold night making me pull my coat around me a bit tighter. Hmmm, maybe it'll snow after all. "Shhh, I'm shtaying at a sek-suk-secret location." Nodding seriously, I glance up and down the street in search of a taxi for her.
"I t-think I'll walk back. Ish not that far, Miss Dian. Getting some f-fresh air is good I've been told." And then sneak back in, hope Faith hasn't come back to glare at me for being drunk. Again. "Don't seem to be ma-many taxi's around huh?"
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A secret place, hm? "I see. I shan't tell anyone I ran into you, then. Not that I've really talked to more than two people there anyway."
I glanced around for a bloody cab and, as he pointed out, there didn't seem to be a single one in sight. "Stupid drivers," I muttered. "Looks like I might be walkin' back as well. Though this time I don't think I'll climb the bloody gate. Too cold and I think the guards know I'm around now, anyway."
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