(Untitled)
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.
( Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you )
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.
( Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you )
"C'mon, you're not that bad. At least, not to people other than yourself." Because, as far as Zack knew, Heine mostly took out his frustrations on his own body, not on the populace. "Give yourself a little credit."
Fingers curled around the Forge and he tugged it back, putting it into his pocket. Fine. Heine might not follow up, but Zack sure would. Mental notes were placed to talk to both Elena and Priscilla and see if they had any insight to it, or if they would dispatch handlers to deal with the situation. Why let it get out of control? Why risk anymore residents?
"Yeah, but you can't be too sure. What if it does happen again and we could've stopped it?"
Zack matched Heine, swallow for swallow, his eyes on him, watching, staring. The dream? It seemed so long ago, didn't it? The dark hair shook as he ordered another drink, his third and he was hitting them back hard, fast. He could feel it in his fingers, in the warmth there, in the way they tingled, and the looseness in his tongue.
"Nah. It's about saving the city." He sipped off his new beer before looking back at him. "Yazoo. He... he was as brainwashed as everyone who drank the water. Why...I should've tried to harder to save him. It's not his fault he's a nutjob; he was never given a fighting chance."
He was quiet, eyes on the white, foaming head of alcohol. "I guess I feel bad for him."
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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.
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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.
"Because it could've been anyone here. It could've happened to anyone. It could've been you or me, Angeal or Tseng, and I don't--I wouldn't have stopped trying to save my friends, and I know that my friends wouldn't have stopped trying to save me.
"But I gave up on him, and I think way too easily. I know what he did, to me, to innocent people here, but what if it wasn't him talking? What if it was her talking?" Mother. The bitch from the skies.
He finished his third beer, set the empty aside, and looked back to Heine. "Back home, I sat back while someone I cared about drove himself further down into Crazy Town. I still regret not doing something sooner, especially with the way things ended up. I know not everyone can be saved, but--
"--I can't tell when it's truly over, you know?"
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-- 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."
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"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."
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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."
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And Zack was painfully ignorant on Heine's own lack of drunkenness, oblivious that the poor guy couldn't ever loosen up (no wonder he was so grouchy all the time). Instead, he started nursing his next one, the cotton starting to worm its way into his head. Slowly, sure, but he could feel it, that numbness, that looseness.
He liked it.
Zack smiled without the use of his fingers, before looking out the window. "I won't die," he murmured. "I'll get maimed, sure, but I don't die. There's only one place I can die, and it ain't here."
Eyes flickered back to Heine, a sudden snap even as he didn't turn his head. "Is there anything you won't give up on?"
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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.
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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?"
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Maybe, if Zack actually remembers what happened... Heine wasn't going to bet on that.
"People. Things." Master of clarity, he was not.
Heine watched Zack down most of his beer. He couldn't remember when he was supposed to stop him - was it after five drinks, or eight? ...well, Zack could handle himself. He hoped.
"Why are you asking?" he shot back, frowning slightly.
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The day they started relying on Anatole to make sense was the day it wouldn't out of sheer spite.
"'Sides, all life is important. Equal. No one 'serves to die."
And there, he didn't even know he was slurring. Eight beers would probably be the optimum limit; after all, a guy with his size, his strength, his mako could easily handle eight, if one didn't think of the hangover the next day. Someone was going to have to tiptoe through the house tomorrow.
"Ever think of givin' a straight answer?" he said with a smirk, raising his hand for the next drink on deck. "And can't a friend have phili--deep conversations with another friend? Shiva."
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Thinking about her again? You're a lost child without Mother, you pathetic little miser, and then it went back to snarling in the corner when he ignored it. Time out, he mused, and almost smirked.
"...yeah, you keep thinking that," Heine muttered, rubbing his forehead.
He noted the increasing incoherency and glanced at the new beer on the counter. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop him now. Maybe.
"Yes, but then I decided it was stupid," he replied easily. "Tch." And there - a slight flicker of something (a memory?) at that word, friend. He frowned.
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Of course he could, and the thought made Zack pout. Normally, he could have kept the pout hidden, locked behind some mask, or back behind the raised glass filled with amber. What a shame it was that he wasn't exactly "normal" right now.
"It's an important subject," he muttered. "Most important one."
His eyes narrowed sullenly, the newest empty glass pushed away down the table, traded quickly for another. "I will," he snarked, the limit of his wit spent and drowned in beer. "And you can't stop me."
See? He told him. It was all about standing ground, and Zack was fully planted, ready to go. It was going to take more than Heine to change his mind. Heine and his... his... Heine attitude. Yeah.
"They're good...for the people you're talking to," he said (slurred), and took another swallow. "You're lucky it'll take more than... than your grrr-ness to get rid of me."
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"Whatever you say," Heine agreed easily, sliding his empty glass across the counter and ordering another one, seeing as if he wanted Zack to keep drinking (which he did), he should probably at least keep up with him. Not that it would make any difference in the long run, but...
"'Grr-ness,'" he repeated with a grunt. "You're starting to get disoriented, aren't you?" Heine asked curiously. He wasn't sure, having no experience to draw on. He was mostly certain that when someone was unconscious, then he should probably stop them, but otherwise... he was pretty lost.
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He didn't know why. He was perfectly fine, just a little hot (Aren't I always, ladies?). Maybe flushed. But how was that funny?
"Glad to see you're coming to your senses and agreein' with me." He smiled, a little more sure of himself, before working on his beer again. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure how many ivories he had on him. And he had to piss. Hell. Bathroom was far.
"Dis-orie--" The scowl (pout) was back. "Are you askin' me if I'm drunk? 'Cause I'm not." Or, at least, he thought he wasn't, which could be fairly dangerous if he didn't have someone next to him that he could (kinda) trust. And hey, Heine was drinking, so that's a good sign. Means they were on even ground. Mmmhm.
"Sooo, we don't get to talk a lot. Tell me somethin' interesting. Somethin' you never told anyone 'fore."
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But he didn't. Heine couldn't remember why he might feel so uneasy, or why he had woken up in that room in Dismas with blood on the walls and viscera on the floor. Quality interior decoration, the dog had called it.
He rubbed his neck a little at the memory, and shrugged. "I wouldn't know," he muttered. "I don't usually deal with people who get drunk."
Mostly because they were afraid enough to realize that getting intoxicated around him was a very bad idea. He wondered vaguely why Zack, of all people, was doing this.
"Something I've never told anyone before?" Heine stared at him for a while, and then shrugged. It wouldn't hurt much, he supposed - Zack was definitely drunk now, he decided, and hopefully he wouldn't remember by morning.
He finally smirked and leaned on the table, toying with his empty glass. "I've never gotten sloshed before."
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