Open Log--Ongoing

[prodigal_axe]

Who: Open Log (have separate threads if you want)
Where: The Northern Lights Bar
When: Lave evening-early morning
Rating: PG-13-R as the night wears on.
Summary: Halloween Party! The Northern Lights opens for its night of spooky décor, copious food, good, hard drinks and musical performance. However, the lighthearted intentions are overshadowed by

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[johnnygarland]

Johnny was just sitting in his own world. The band's songs drifted through his mind, in one ear and out the other, and it sounded like they were close to being done. Not that it really mattered to the blond. His attention was focused on his glass of gin. He knew drinking too much would probably make him feel like crap tomorrow, but tomorrow Grace would be back. Just for now, in the meantime--

when she was dead because he'd relaxed too much and gotten careless--

He took a gulp of the drink, ignoring the bitterness. Right now, he just needed to blot everything out.

[panofbread]

Of course Pan, after the fit she'd thrown, had shown up to the party, even after things started happening that took the fun out of being spiteful. Like most people, she'd heard about what had happened - even though she didn't know many, or really, any of the details...

She wasn't sure of herself. She didn't know what to say, or do, or how - or really, even if she was wanted. And that was forgetting the language barrier. But then again... when had she ever hesitated? Right! Never! So - so...

So... she slowly approached the spot Johnny was sitting at, rehearsing what she wanted to say. It wasn't much but she didn't exactly speak much English... "Hello," she said, nervous, like she was reciting a lesson, painfully aware of how strong her accent must be. "How - are... you?"

[johnnygarland]

Johnny looked to the side, slightly surprised by hearing Pan's voice in English. His first thought was that she couldn't have any idea what had happened with a question like that, but then he noticed her nervous expression. She'd heard.

"Getting better," he lied, trying a smile. "She'll be at the hospital tomorrow."

[panofbread]

Pan didn't understand the whole sentence, but she know hospital, and she knew what she'd heard around the network. And she could see Johnny, too, and that was enough of a giveaway. He was drinking, too, ugh.

She bit her lip, and took a moment to think up the word in English: "Sorry."

...HE IS JUST NOT GOOD WITH SOCIALIZING TODAY.

[johnnygarland]

The apology made him look away for a few seconds, fidgeting with the remains of his mummy costume.

"It's okay. Really." He thought, trying to think of something he could say that she'd be sure to understand. "...Happy Halloween."

After this year, he doubted he'd ever look forward to the holiday again.

PAN JUST FEELS BAD D:

[panofbread]

Halloween. Okay, she knew that word, too. But still.

Communicator tag wasn't a good way to talk. It was, but it wasn't. And she didn't feel like digging hers out in a place like this. But she didn't know what to say - even if she had known how to say it. But she wanted to say something, even if it was just ego. A need to feel important... to somehow, magically, be the one to fix everything.

Of course, there was nothing. "Thing I may - do," she hazarded, looking up at the ceiling as she spoke, as if there was a dictionary painted onto the plaster. "To you...?" - Is there anything I can do for you?

[johnnygarland]

Maybe it was just a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol, but he wasn't sure what exactly Pan meant. Something she could do...she'd probably be better off in the middle of the party instead of having an awkward conversation with him. So he pointed out to the thick of the crowd. "Party." Simple, direct--hopefully she'd understand. He wasn't about to use his communicator; in this state there was no way he could type with one hand accurately enough for the device to translate.

[panofbread]

She had the feeling that her (limited) English skills were at their absolute limit, and that something had been lost in translation just now. When he pointed at the crowd, she looked at them, trying to see who specifically he was trying to show to her. No one stood out. After a few awkward seconds, Pan decided he was probably trying to get rid of her. Well, not quite yet.

There was still one more offer she wanted to try and make. Luckily, these words were ones she used often anyway. "Fight?" she hazarded. "Punch - I may to... villain?"

[johnnygarland]

This time he understood what she meant, and the idea made him queasy. He knew Pan had said she was a capable fighter, and she very well could be, but...

He reached through the toilet paper "bandages" that were still wrapped around his frame, inside his jacket, and brought out his dagger. "Villain used blade," he said, indicating the length of the dagger. "Probably a sword." His hands moved apart to show a longer length. "Move too slow and..." Well, his left hand was a pretty good example of what happened when flesh met blade. It was healing well, but there was a long gash forming a scar.

[panofbread]

She watched, her expression serious, as he explained, this time also able to understand. But she didn't know how to explain that she knew, that she'd already heard about the sword, that... "Help to," she said slowly. Pointed at herself. "Strong," she added, but that wasn't the right word. "Can do. This one... help. Way."

Even she knew she wasn't making any sense. Pan's face screwed up in frustration. "To do help," she said, trying again. This didn't sound right, either. She sighed, annoyed, and then spoke in rapid Japanese. "You're about the only person I know here who isn't always yelling at me or - that I fight with a lot, or - I know you have a lot of friends, but I'm not that great at making them, I guess, and I can't help much with being, you know, comforting or nice but I know how to fight, and..."

Pan stomped her foot. "One thing able I can help."

[johnnygarland]

The Japanese confused him--he didn't know if she was repeating something she'd already said or saying something new--but he understood how desperate she was to get her point across. That fighting Grace's murderer was the only thing she could do for him.

"Later," he said. "When I can help." When he didn't feel like he was going to fall apart any second. "Don't die." His eyes were blinking fast now, holding back more tears, and he only said, "It's always the nice people who die," before taking another gulp of his drink.

[panofbread]

She wasn't totally insensitive. She knew 'help' and she knew 'die,' and she knew body language, and she knew - this was it. This was the limit. It was easy for her to make things worse - or louder - and tact wasn't her strong point, but she knew that this was the extent of - whatever it was.

Nodded. "Okay." Another word she knew. Shuffled in place, awkward and nervous. Couldn't remember any words for time or days. Didn't know anything - "Sorry," she said again, slowly. Pointed over to the tables of food. "I'm there... want me. Okay?"

Sorry, Johnny. Even if she was fluent, Pan didn't think there was anything else she could do or say.

[johnnygarland]

He nodded and turned away as she went over to the feast. Maybe later he'd know what to say, but right now, he was just at a loss for words.

[theforceoncrack]

"Hey."

Jackie appeared in the seat next to him. Faux Jesus understood guilt all too well.

He put an arm around his friend.

[johnnygarland]

The touch surprised Johnny, and he stiffened for a second before realizing who it was and relaxing. Jackie reminded him a little of Lenny--not that he'd tell either man that--and it was nice having someone that felt a little bit like home.

"Hey," he answered. "This stuff really does taste like garbage straight."

Not that that was keeping him from drinking at a steady rate.

[theforceoncrack]

"It always does. I hate it," he said, grinned, and poured himself a glass.

It was hard to know what to say. Strange to be on the other side.

"I'll...go with you tomorrow."