IV: [Location: Hyperion] You spin me right round, baby, right round.
Wesley is drinking. It's not something he does very often and usually he exhibits quite a bit more self-restraint. Right now, though, he's going to town. He's hatched himself a bottle of Glenn Morgan single malt and is partaking rather generously
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Might wanna slow down there, English.
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"No, I believe want to do nothing of the sort. Shouldn't you be saying 'Bottoms up'?"
He takes a swig from the bottle in defiance.
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[ a long gap goes here, where faith considers just turning off her tablet and letting this-- whatever this is-- end here. but as much as she's bitter, as much as she wants wes to remember he came to her when they needed to contain angelus, to remember that he cut her open just as much as she ever did him, she's also aware what went down the other day (no matter how satisfying it was to see godric get him tossed out on his ass was) was fucked up, just a little. ]
Like you told me, Wes. None of 'em are real.
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Wesley chuckles mirthlessly.
"Do you see her? Winifred? I know she's not real. But knowing what's to come...Life isn't very fair. The sooner we both accept that, the better off we both will be."
He salutes her with the bottle.
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[ this isn't the wes she knows. it's not the man she tortured-- quiet, still soft around the edges, but he spat in her face instead of begging and even if that 'it brings out the mother in me' crap was mostly for show, a little part of her was impressed even while she wanted to make him hurt more-- and it's not the hardass who busted her out of jail, pressed every button she had just to make sure the gears still turned like they used to. this wes is sloppy, unfocused, and it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her stomach clench and go sour. ]
You ever think about being one of those motivational speakers, Wes? Could make some major bank, packing a feel good message like that.
[ under the flippancy, her tone is stretched tight, uncertain. ]
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He shakes his head and smiles ruefully. Then makes himself look at the monitor again, even though he can't see her face.
"Well, clearly I did so brilliantly with you. I ought to make millions."
His arms wave about for a moment, but then his expression grows somber again.
"Faith. I never meant...I was trying to help. In my own way." He snorts at himself. "Oh my goodness, I'm just blurting out things. Very bad form, that."
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Think I like you better shitfaced, Wes.
[ what she actually means is 'thank you' and 'so that was a pretty fucked up scene today' and 'i'm sorry i sprung that on you and let the vampire i'm fucking toss you on your ass' but faith has never been good at saying the words that actually align with what she's feeling. ]
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He lifts the whiskey bottle to his lips.
"If my father could see me now, he'd be appalled. A Watcher would never shirk his duty. Would never over-indulge and render himself incapable of battle readiness. Just one more black mark against me. As if it matters anymore."
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[ the comment about wesley's father makes faith pause, consider her words carefully for once. whatever, she's not suddenly all weepy just because wes has a daddy never loved me sob story, too. he's just not going to thank her once he sobers up if she takes advantage of this one. there are lines even faith lehane doesn't want to cross. ]
No offense or anything, but I'm pretty sure your old man never had to deal with this crap.
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He perches himself up on the counter. A very un-Wesley-like thing to do. Then decides it might be long enough for him to lie back down comfortably on. He tries it experimentally, folding his hands across his chest, fingers laced. How much of this Faith can see is anyone's guess.
"I wonder if this is what it feels like to be in a coffin."
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[ give her a second to watch this with warring horror and amusement ]
Guessing no. Seriously, pretty sure you've had enough.
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"What makes you--?" Whatever he had planned to say is lost in a surprised yelp as Wesley manages to completely roll off of the counter onto the hotel floor.
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[ look, she's not laughing outright okay. ]
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"I'm alright by the way. Thanks very much for asking."
Slowly he climbs to his feet and attempts to dust himself down.
"Perhaps I ought to slow down a bit." It's annoying to admit it, especially since Faith isn't exactly the poster child for moderating one's behaviour.
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Dude, you fell off a damn counter, not a cliff. Stiff upper lip it, Wes.
[ and she is just rolling her eyes on this end. ]
Pretty sure I said that already.
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That didn't sound the least bit pompous or pathetic. He straightens collar and then decides he's actually rather hot, and did something happen to the thermostat. He loosens his tie and undoes the top button.
"Yes, well. You sound in better spirits, at least."
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