Who:
boundbytreason and
drinkthebleachWhen: Jan 20th-24th
Where: The Tower Apartments
Summary: A cloaked magic woman and a drummer with a substance abuse problem are stuck together in a snowstorm for days on end. It's like a sitcom, or a social experiment gone horribly wrong (though seriously, is there a difference between the two?)
Warnings: Probably nothing except for adult
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Well, it is next to the baseball diamond. [ As she strode across the room, her robes dispelled with a faint, violet glister, leaving her dress visible. ] And...if I did that, I'd be taking up room that someone else could have had.
[ Her apartment was like any other one, but given recent circumstances, it was exceptionally pristine. Yet, all at once, it was also incredibly barren. Save for a table with a few chairs and a couch, she had no other decorations. Even her bookshelf held only unremarkable titles, such as one detailing the history of Siren's Port. ]
But it's cozy, isn't it? [ She spoke with a soft, wry chuckle. It actually didn't quite fit to her liking, but it wasn't like it was important. It was a place to rest her feet and receive guests. It served its purpose sufficiently well. ]
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He turns around in time to watch her cloak literally dissolve from her body in a purple haze. That would've freaked him out if he hadn't seen her cast spells before--he just blinks a couple times. Apart from the impromptu magic show though, Caster's apartment was quite mundane, bearing no signature mark that he would've tied to her or her presumed lifestyle.
Or maybe he just expected to see a spell book or something lying around. But the place doesn't look bad. He doesn't have to lie about that when she asks.] S' all right. Helluva lot bigger than the place I've got now.
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[ Now that she thought about it, she never actually had a chance to ask. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she was halfway across the room. She gauged his expression, but she also kept an eye on his position. She had disabled the trap that she set on the threshold when he entered, but whenever he moved away from the door, she would activate it once more. ]
[ After all, it never hurt to play it safe in a city like Siren's Port. ]
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Oh, that must be nice, meeting someone from your home.
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[That comment was all he wanted to say about his brief cohabitation with Toki unless further prodded, and he was preoccupied by an aimless migration around Caster's living room. He runs his hand along her bookshelf, rocking a few of the books forward just to poke them back into place with his index finger.] ...You live alone?
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That's right. [ It may have seemed odd that she had a two bedroom apartment, but as usual, she had her reasons. ] Does that come as a surprise?
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[Then Pickles seems to contradict this observation by coming into the kitchen and leaning on the counter behind Caster, watching her reach around for the cocoa.]
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None taken. You would be correct. [ She spoke offhandedly as she strode to the other side of the kitchen. ] So, where were you headed?
[ Extending her free hand, she pulling open the door to another cupboard, revealing a stock of wine flutes, mugs, and glasses. ]
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Home. [His shoulders arch towards his ears in an offhanded shrug.] Or I might've stopped by a bar on the way. I dunno. S' the kind of weather for gettin' plastered beyond belief.
[Though the discrepancy between getting drunk during a snowstorm and getting drunk during any other part of Pickles's day was not very clear.]
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Is it? [ Her fingers moved to open the door to another cupboard, her eyes briefly combing the shelves for the sugar. ] I much rather spend a winter evening with a warm cup of tea.
[ Recalling how he reacted over the NetVice to Loki's New Years trick, amusement briefly curled upwards at the corner of Caster's mouth. ]
So, exactly how much can you drink?
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But he still ran into her in AGI's part of the city. That was kind of surprising. And weird.
Pickles runs his fingers over the counter top that he was leaning against; then curls his hand into a fist and drums his knuckles against the surface a few times before tossing a questioning look at the back of her head.]
What? You want me to give you a number?
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Is it even possible to put a number on it? [ She asked, with a remark clearly meant as tongue-in-cheek. ]
[ The drawer rumbled softly, followed by the gentle clatter of utensils as she pulled it open. Selecting one of the teaspoons, the fluorescent lights reflected softly off the pristine, silver surface as she lifted it out. ]
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I mean, s'not always how many drinks yer havin' as much as how much alcohol's in 'em anyway, sometimes. Some drinks can mess you up fast. An' sometimes you can't taste the booze so you drink twice as much. [He flicks invisible dirt off the counter.] ...But I've had a hundred percent in my body before, to answer yer question. That's probably the norm for me--or somewhere 'round that ballpark, I dunno.
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