Somehow all you ever need's, never really quite enough you know

[glass_beddau]

[Down at the Red Lantern, up on the third floor]
[Too late for patience]

"Perhaps I know him before than you do, Ms Beddau," and I can feel myself take slow cold umbrage to that; after all he had wrong, after all I have seen, to say that. "And no, I will not be sick again.""That's good," flat words, but not cold; I think I am too tired to put in

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[oscar_merton]

"Does it help you to say the same of me?" I'm too tired to really force the laugh and it's a choked snort that comes out instead. Thankfully, I am also too tired to really care. "Of course it does. How does one fuck a murderer without being good at lying to themselves?"

I want something to drink but I will be damned if I ask her now. "But, no, I am sure you are right. He is not a feral dog to roam the streets, but only misunderstood. I will be fine."

[glass_beddau]

"Of course it does. How does one fuck a murderer without being good at lying to themselves?" and the room shrugs, there's a hitch and a blip and I blink to refocus.

"Well," I say, and it is not the first thing I think of saying, because the first is monstrous cruel and I am a little shocked to even think it--Oya would be disgusted with me, that's what crosses my mind, "you tell me how one commits murder without lying to themselves, if you're such a paragon of hard truths and insights. Maybe we can swap notes, see if there's a point of commonality."

"But, no, I am sure you are right. He is not a feral dog to roam the streets, but only misunderstood. I will be fine."

"You sound," dry again, "like his old employer. I didn't much like her either." I shake my head in disgust, rest my forehead on the heels of my hands. "He is not a dog, and I do not misunderstand him. Can't speak for you." Or if you'll be fine.

[oscar_merton]

His former employer? I have to think for a moment, through the painful exhaustion and the drunkenness leading to hangover. "Ah, you mean the Oriental whore." Hmph. "I am certain we have nothing in common."

I wish she would leave. That would be too much like a blessing, would it not? And life has proven that God has no interest in me. "So you do not misunderstand him, and yet here you are," I say, closing my eyes and wishing the bed didn't spin as soon as I do. "I will never understand women like you. Or at least I hope I never do." Blinded by some base compulsions and I tell myself that I should be thankful, to not understand, but the lie catches for once and I have trouble forcing it down.

"You cannot lie to yourself and take a life," I say after a long moment. "It is too honest an act." After, perhaps, there will be rationalization, lies to keep the hands from shaking. But not during. No, not during.

[glass_beddau]

"Ah, you mean the Oriental whore."

"Pimp," I correct.

"I am certain we have nothing in common."

"You're certain of a lot of things," I say, looking around the room and deciding that it actually won't make things worse if I tap ash onto the floor. Run my foot over it and it ghosts into just another smear, a little paler than some. "Why didn't you kill him, that first night? When you found him at Lee's?"

"So you do not misunderstand him, and yet here you are," he says. "I will never understand women like you. Or at least I hope I never do."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," smiling a little. "You're young, not stupid. You've got time to figure it out. Besides, me being here..." I trail off, shrugging. "He's here for me. I'm not here for him." For what it's worth.

[dorian_excolo]

"What the fuck? It's a fucking kid, Dorian!"

I walk into the room just after Maria and she's already turned around to face me, with her hands on her hips. "You got a kid cuffed to my bed?"

Blink. "Yes. And he's staying there." I look at Glass, standing by the bed, and I want this over with, I wish we were home. "You all right?" I ask her, before Maria moves past me and starts digging through the closet.

[glass_beddau]

"Don't touch me," and I stop, pull back and step back--down the length of the bed, not away from it--and sorry is just starting to beat okay out of my mouth when I hear the door, turn halfway towards it.

First thought; she's not a threat and I don't like her. If she was, Dorian wouldn't let her come in first, not when I was in here. (Well. Except he would for the Madam, I suppose; but this is different. It is.) I can feel my mouth pull down at the corners, but she turns her back to me to argue with him and I try and get it under control. Christ, Beddau, keep a lid on it--a little self-control, would you?

"You alright?" and I nod.

"'m fine," and take a step towards him; want to take another two or three, lean into him, and I don't. Soon. Look back to Oscar, glance at the woman digging through the closet, and curiousity wins out. "What're you looking for?"

[dorian_excolo]

I look between them, Glass and Oscar, and there's something there that I could never find a name for, so I don't bother trying. I don't remember Maria until Glass asks what she's looking for and there's a laugh from the closet.

"Patience." Maria stands up, lights a joint -- hidden in the closet I imagine -- and sits on the edge of the bed. I take a step forward but Oscar... Oscar doesn't move. "What's this, his nanny?"

"No. She's with me."

There's some look then, that Maria gives Glass, and again I'm left just waiting. I don't have to wait long, because Maria's off the bed and a bag slides across the floor from underneath to land at my feet.

"That's yours. I ain't a storage locker and I ain't no fucking babysitter either."I look at the bag. I hope nothing's broken. I'll be annoyed if something is and I've had a hard enough night as it is. "I didn't ask, did I? Now get out." She wants to say something, even I can see that, but she doesn't. The door slams behind her

[glass_beddau]

"No. She's with me." And I smile when the woman looks at me. Technically. She heaves a bag out from under the bed, and slams out. Lovely.

"Glass? Could I talk to Oscar a moment?"

"Sure," softly, and this time I do step up to him, lean up and kiss him quick and light, corner of his mouth. "I brought a spare sweater for him, in the bag--" his bag that he brought, obviously, not his bag that the woman hauled out in a sulk-- "I'll get it after?"

Step outside and close the door, and offer the woman an apologetic shrug. Don't bother to hide the fact that I'm leaning against it as much as I can without sacrificing balance, one ear close to the surface.

"Sorry for the trouble," I say, quietly enough. Which is probably the least problematic true thing I could say. Beats the hell out of why the hell're you looking at me like that?

[dorian_excolo]

She seems so far away, even before she steps back. I look at her.

"Jesus Christ! It's freezing out here!" Maria's heels echo across the back alley as she comes around the car. The sweater is in my bag. I hand it over, along with the keys to the handcuffs.

"You coming back?" Her hand is cold on my arm.

"I said I was."

"Yeah, you said that last week too."

"Be careful," I tell her after closing the trunk. "He tried to gut the last person I left him with." There's the sound of heels on the pavement again, a door slamming, and the alley is empty.

I walk around to unlock Glass's door. Once she's inside, and the door is locked behind her, I go to my side and get in. The engine starts and... I sigh. "It's been a very long night." I put the car in gear and pull away from the club. "And--" Hmm... "Do you want to talk?" Are you all right? But I already asked that, before. Maybe it's the wrong question.

[glass_beddau]

"No," I say tiredly. Although that doesn't really matter; and I am not so literal as some. It's easier in the car, with the sweep and fall of the streetlights giving me something to look at. The phrase I wouldn't touch her with someone else's dick bubbles through my mind, and really, that's exactly the problem... "How many people are you fucking, Dorian? Me, her, I guess you stopped with Constantine now... How many?"

[dorian_excolo]

"No," she says and so I drive, forgoing the highway in favor the smaller crisscrossing back streets that lead toward the pizza place. The food there is good, and it will be quiet this time of night, though I'm thinking of asking if she would rather take the pizza back to her apartment rather than eat there--

"How many people are you fucking, Dorian?" The question is unexpected. I keep driving. "Me, her, I guess you stopped with Constantine now... How many?" I keep driving and it's good that we're talking, that means I can figure out what's wrong and I can fix it

[glass_beddau]

"She laughed at me when I said she was someone you used to have sex with." Basically. I mean, there was not technically cacchination, but she laughed at me because I trusted you on that. Assumed. Believed.

"What is this, Dorian?" My head's starting to feel stuffy, and I lean forward, elbows on the dash and heels of my hands pressing against my eyes. It helps, a little, holds back the stinging. "I don't screw around with other people, I don't hook up, I don't date, you know I don't, you'd hate it if I did. Why do you?" I'm clogging up, probably technically tearing up, I can hear it in my voice. I know it's not a trade, I know things aren't meant to be fair, but come on, everything I'm trying to do, to learn and to put up with and to go through, and can't I even get that?