(Untitled)

[i_love_squats]

Who: Zack Fair i_love_squats and Heine Rammsteiner stray_gunner, Open
When: Today
Where: Foxhole
Format: Paragraph
What: Zack’s drinking and confused, while Heine’s pointing and laughing. Yeaaaah. Something.
Warnings: Probably not, but it all depends on how much Zack is allowed to drink.

Comments

[stray_gunner]

It wasn't the first time he'd woken up with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up with blood on the floor either.

It was, however, the first time he'd opened his eyes and saw a poster of a shirtless man on the wall.

You could say that the ensuing gunfire was a defensive reflex.

Heine sighed and scuffed the heel of his boot on the ground, flaking off more dried blood. There was definitely something wrong when the sight of copious amounts of leftover gore didn't bother him, he decided, staring down at the mess.

D'you think it's yours? The dog's question was rhetorical - they both knew that it could be no one else's. Heine sniffed(not to smell it or to check the scent - he hoped) and left, walking through Dismas with very little incident and reaching the Foxhole in less than half an hour

[i_love_squats]

Zack had his own share of inconsistencies: blood on his gloves, up his arms, but he had little reason to think it was human. After all, who would he hurt? And no one had been reported missing that he knew, and his posts were

[stray_gunner]

He snorted quietly and leaned his chin on his palms, eyes half-closed in exhaustion. The dreams had increased in frequency after he'd woken up - apparently ten days after his last memories of Anatole ended - in that room in Dismas, walls painted with blood and the smell of gunsmoke thick in the air.

They were familiar things, he realized. He wasn't sure if he liked the thought.

He noticed Zack's apparently instinctual reaction and raised an eyebrow, though he stayed silent in favor of wrapping his fingers absently around the glass.

Too quiet, it hissed. Not enough fun, not enough blood. Heine pushed it away (down down down into darkness) and replied darkly, "I don't even know."

Brushing away a few strands of hair, Heine stared at the opposite wall for a few seconds before turning to Zack. "The blood was mine. I think." He went silent again for a moment before continuing. "I wouldn't know, in any case."

He downed some of the beer and added, "You look worried." Accompanying that was an irritated scowl, as usual.

[i_love_squats]

Heine was a good person to have a drink with when the opposing person was in a certain mood: no nonsense bullshit with a need to relax. In Zack's current state of mind, he could appreciate Heine's attitude, could relish in those customary scowls and to-the-point words. Bluntness. Can you dig it

[stray_gunner]

"Ha, yeah." Heine wrinkled his nose for a moment before shrugging it off. "I don't think it was an animal. There would be a dead body there, for one thing... or maybe it got away. In Dismas."

He considered the idea for a moment. "Yeah, no."

"Probably human, then. Or mostly." Fingers pulling absently at the silver rings in his ears, Heine leaned back precariously far to stare at the ceiling. "Definitely no one normal. Not with that much blood from me."

Apparently completely comfortable with discussing what kind of person might be able to smash his skull and get away with it, Heine ran his fingers absently along the rim of the glass.

"I don't like much in the first place," he pointed out after a pause. "So it doesn't matter whether you want to tell me or not."

[i_love_squats]

No animal. Not human, or at least, not completely human. It was narrowing the prospective list down, and he started to make a series of mental notes. Yazoo would've been at the top of the list if he wasn't still gone; after all, he had a history of shooting Heine, right? But it was just another loophole in the ever-confusing story

[stray_gunner]

"What a stunning description." Heine rolled his eyes and let the chair drop back onto the ground, the front two legs landing with a very loud thump. With no concern about the possibility that he might have bothered somebody, he leaned on his elbow again and glanced at Zack in silence

[i_love_squats]

Zack flinched at the sound of the chair legs landing; it sounded explosive to him, too loud, like gunshots. Blue eyes snatched over to Heine, studied him for a moment, then realized that he didn't even notice. Why would he? He clearly wasn't the type to care over something so trivial. Besides, the folks around them noticed enough for both of them, shooting devils glares

[stray_gunner]

"Not everything can be stopped," Heine pointed out with a 'tsk.'

You don't deserve any credit, though - and you even agree with me, see? Come on, master, let's just get away and go underground and hunt some more and kill some more and feel more blood on your hands.

He realized belatedly that he'd actually let the dog complete his sentences, which wasn't a good thing. Heine shrugged and put down his glass, resolving to ignore it as well as he could. Hopefully.

"Why would you feel bad for him? If there isn't any chance to save him, then..." Heine gripped the edge of the table tightly for an instant. "...then it doesn't matter."

You'd just get rid of him and be done with it, right, kid? Ah, there it was again - but Heine managed to block out most of its whispers this time.

With a quiet sigh, Heine kicked the leg of Zack's chair. "Look. If that's what you're feeling bad about, then -- it's useless." He knew he sounded like an uncaring jerk, but he couldn't help it, not with how close to home this was hitting.

[i_love_squats]

"Won't know unless you try." The ever optimist to Heine's pessimism. What a pair they made, enough to make him roll his eyes, to tap his fingers against the wood of the tabletop. "But I'm not comfortable with just letting this go. We've gotta do something."

Because if someone else was hurt, he wasn't sure how well he could take it. These things, they weren't supposed to be happening; he was supposed to be able to protect his friends, keep them safe. If they didn't catch this psycho--

"Wonder why they attacked you, anyway," he muttered. Oh, wait, no he didn't, not with Heine's attitude; that probably said enough without speaking a word. Snickering, he cast him a sidelong glance, shook his head, and took another drink of beer. "Probably your chaaarming personality."

Then, it doesn't matter. Except it did. It mattered a lot, and he wasn't sure he could really explain it for the other to understand it

[stray_gunner]

"Doesn't being so cheerful all the time make you tired sometimes?" Heine shot back, rolling his eyes. "You can do something. I don't care." Because you never care about anything except for me and her --

-- and fuck, there it went again.

"I can't help but attract attention where ever I go," Heine answered, perfectly straightfaced. "It's a talent."

He sat silently as Zack went on, fingers twitching reflexively at the emphasis -- because it was too close, too similar to how he (there it was) spoke of her.

Mother.

Zack didn't explain who he was referring to, but he knew. After those days he had been young again (he didn't want to be), he'd heard the recording of Yazoo and flinched.

"No one can tell." Heine shrugged, content to lean on the table and toy with his now empty glass. "So that's that."

[i_love_squats]

"It's not 'cheery'; it's just being positive. Doesn't being so negative depress you?" Because, as much as Heine acted like he didn't feel anything, Zack liked to believe it was just a facade, a mask, something to put folks off. After all, no one could get that...dispassionate, could they?

"I'll do something." Just...leave it to me. "Funny, I have that talent, too. Must come with having a big mouth." And yes, he gave Heine a Look. He'd earned it.

Another beer found it's way in front of him, and for a long time, he just stared at it. He was outpacing Heine (though, he was clueless of the fact that it doesn't really matter in the end), so he slid his full glass to him before ordering another for himself. If he was going to end up drunk, he didn't want to be the only one making an ass out of himself, and maybe Heine would forget what he said. Hopefully.

"Yeah, but--then it means I'll never give up." He shook his head, the black bangs waving, his eyes on his hands. "I'll keep trying to save him, even if there's nothing there to save."

[stray_gunner]

"No, because it's called being normal. At least for me." He shrugged indifferently and absently folded the edge of his jacket collar again and again, fingers brushing against the white bandages around his neck. "Whatever. Have fun."

He took the beer that Zack pushed at him with a raised eyebrow and no other comment. The effects of the first drink were long gone, and Heine figured that it would take several shots of much stronger alcohol to have any longer effect - the one time he'd come here with Jay had reaffirmed that.

Briefly, he wondered if Zack knew that he was basically incapable of becoming intoxicated. Then he decided it might be funny and stopped thinking about it.

He frowned a little as Zack went on. "There's no point, then," he muttered, but he got the feeling that Zack wouldn't listen to him in this case. "...You're going to get killed this way."

[i_love_squats]

"Normal? Would it kill you once to smile?" Zack's fingers touched the corner of his own mouth (he wouldn't dare to put them close to Heine's in fear of losing them) and pulled up, a pantomime of a smile before dropping them. "You couldn't care less if anyone in this city was hurt, huh?" And that was a chilling thought, one he hoped he was wrong about. C'mon, Heine. Prove him wrong. Prove him wrong

[stray_gunner]

Heine shrugged and managed a half-amused snort at Zack's pantomime. "...It would depend," he answered after a moment, looking unusually thoughtful. That only lasted a moment, though,

He watched with a tiny smirk as Zack kept on drinking. Oh, he knew he was supposed to say something by now (be a responsible friend, and all that), but he was bored enough to want amusement.

Which meant letting Zack drink as much as he wanted.

"Uh-huh." That's what they all say, the dog told him cheerfully. Until I get to them, ahaha -

Heine blinked at the question, eyebrow raised in skepticism. "I guess," he answered vaguely. "I know you do," he added quickly, trying to avoid more questions.

[i_love_squats]

Vague answers, vague answers, vague answers. Couldn't anyone just tell him something blunt, honest, and straight for once? Still, watching Heine look thoughtful piqued his curiosity, leaving him to cock his head to the side and blink slowly. His words were half quiet when he asked the inevitable question, "What would it depend on?"

And don't worry, Heine, when Zack eventually finds out what you're doing, he'll get you back. Somehow. Promise.

But for now, he took another drink, set the glass down, then rethought it and took another. The words were getting easier to spill, slipping out of his grasp before he could grab them, certain letters carrying certain slurs, but it didn't sound so bad to him. Not really, not when he was feeling that good, warm sensation through his body. If he stood up, he wondered how much worse it'd be.

"So...what won't you give up on?" he asked, finishing his latest beer. "Or who?"