The Graveyard: Friday Night
It's another night and another walk through the graveyard. Once again Mel is there looking for monsters that don't exist but this time she has someone new with her to keep company.
"So. Ever do this kind of thing before?"
After leaving Peter, Isabel had been a little too awake to think about going back to her room. Running into Mel and deciding to go on patrol was a good way to get out and not think for a bit.
"No, I haven't," Isabel replied. "We don't have much of a monster problem in Roswell. Well unless you count the evil aliens or the FBI."
"Aliens?" Mel asked. "Like the giant kind in big rubber suits I see on TV? Those would actually be kind of awesome to fight!"
"Nah, they look perfectly human till they start to dry out and shed skin," Isabel explained. "It would be a hell of a lot easier if they were rubber suit looking."
"What about the FBI? What kind of aliens are those?"
"They're not," she said, peering around the extremely quiet graveyard. "They're perfectly human alien hunters. They'd like nothing more then to see us locked up as someone's lab rat."
"Ah gotcha. Bad guys," Mel said with a nod as she idly swung her scythe a little bit. "So I can beat those guys up if they show, right?"
Isabel made a face. "I'm not going to stop you. Even though Pierce is dead, the others are just as bad. I still can't believe they haven't found out about this place."
"Well some people have found where I live. So... yeah. Not exactly a secret. Who's Pierce?" Mel asked.
"He was the head of the FBI Special Unit. He tried to disect my brother when he got hold of him," she said bitterly. "Because he was such a big threat. Then Pierce shot another friend of ours and before Michael finally killed him." Isabel remembered how torn up Michael had been about that, but she wasn't going to shed any tears of his loss. "We were able to get a shapeshifter to take his place. That got the FBI off our back at least."
"Isn't that Cooper fella at the police department part of the FBI?" Mel asked. "Should we go into town and rough him up?"
"I don't know him. Which is probably stupid of me," Isabel replied. "False sense of security, I guess. But if he hasn't been doing anything suspicious, it's probably best not to attract attention."
"Man," Mel whined. " I never get to beat up anybody."
"Maybe we'll have a slightly larger invasion one of these days?" she offered. "Somehow last week's invasion just didn't rate that high on the beat people up meter."
"Plus they were originally cute. And Fuzzy. Makes it harder to rough 'em up when they are that way."
"True. Although the long nasty claws they wound up with got me over the aww cute factor pretty quickly," Isabel pointed out. "But we do need something to come by for serious butt kicking. I've got issues to work out." She shook her head and laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd prefer butt kicking to retail therapy."
"Retail therapy?" Mel asked. "I never tried that. Stealing therapy I've done but never retail. So what issues do you need to work out?"
"Retail therapy is the better choice when you don't want to worry about getting busted. Of course it helps if the credit card is funded. Which mine is, within reason, but still. Shopping just doesn't seem to have the same release anymore." Isabel kicked at a rock and shrugged. "Life in general mostly."
"Life generally can be good or bad," Mel pointed out. "The other day someone told me you can either dwell on it and ruin your day or just rut it all to hell and just make the best of it."
Then she tilted her head at Isabel giving her a careful look. "Granted it was Rikku who said it. I don't know what kind of toy you're dealing with at the moment."
Isabel nodded. "No, she's right. There's stuff you can't change and moping about it not going to do anything except make you and the people around you miserable. So pass the sunscreen and lets all go rafting on the river denial."
"We're not talking about that river in Egypt, are we?" Mel asked. "Sorry. Someone told me that once and I just want to make sure we aren't making historical metaphors or something."
"Sort of but not really," Isabel laughed. "It's a play on words. The Nile, De-Nial. I'm not sure if it's a metaphor or just a bad pun."
"I say go with both and enjoy our lack of ignorance when it comes to jokes and grammar," Mel snickered. "And then later we can fight off the reality of our lives with ice cream."
"Promise me hot fudge and I'll love you forever," Isabel replied. "Can I ask what reality you're fighting off?"
"Standard slayer angst," Mel replied. "Vague and cryptic destiny coupled with a vampire brother, a possibly dead sister, lost friends and a home timeline I can communicate with. Plus all I have is caramel topping. Would that just make us BFF's?"
"Gah! I can see why you'd need the ice cream. Destinies suck." Isabel flashed her a grin. "Caramel might get you to second base. Chocolate's required for anything beyond that."
"Should I tell Steve-Peter that or does he need to find out on his own?" Mel joked.
Isabel facepalmed. "We're not like that! Honestly! He's a friend! Why won't anyone believe me?"
"Well what if he offered you hot fudge?" Mel said with a smirk.
It was nice to tease someone else about their not-boyfriend.
"I might be persuaded to have some," she admitted slowly. "But let's not rush things okay?"
"You'd be surprised what can happen when you're not thinking," Mel said with a slight smirk. "Or if your drunk and stumble into the wrong cabin cubicle. Not that it ever happened to me."
"Please, I know all about not thinking. Thinking is safer, trust me." Because if she didn't think that chance meeting on the beach a few weeks ago would have ended a lot differently. "I can't drink. A single drop of booze gets me plastered. And that's just not a good thing."
"So are we thinking or not thinking? And rut it now I want to drink," Mel huffed. "So you can't drink any sack? Well I guess that eliminates hangovers. Ever take a drop just for fun?"
"Personally? I'm thinking. Which means that sadly, I don't have quite as much fun as I could have," Isabel shrugged. "But that's just me." She shook her head, smiling at the memory. "I've been drunk exactly twice. The first time was an accident. My coke and my Jack's bourbon and coke got switched. I wound up hugging people and telling them how much I loved them. Then I made a huge pass at Jack. I was ready to die the next morning. Not from the hangover, but from sheer embarrassment."
"Could have been worse. Jack could have accepted," Mel said with a little grin. "I'm sticking to the not thinking. It's worked well for me. Too much thinking and I'll lose sight of the important things."
"It would have been much, much worse if he did," she nodded, thinking of how Jack said the Time Agency had twisted things. "But he didn't and that's what matters." Isabel turned her head to study Mel. "So who are you not thinking about?"
"My brother. My sister. My friends who aren't with me anymore," Mel said echoing what she said before. "What I'm supposed to do, what I haven't done."
Then there's a wry grin.
"Zuko."
Isabel could relate to that way more then she wanted to admit. But since they were both supposed to be floating on the river denial, she focused on what made Mel smile. "Zuko? Oh...so it's like that?"
"Now... no fair asking me questions about things I don't wanna be thinking about," Mel said, but still grinning.
"Don't think? Just do?" she laughed. "And let the rest of us live vicariously through you?"
"I don't think people want my life. Even vicariously," Mel laughed. "Unless they like complications."
"Some people are crazy like that?" Isabel replied. "Simple is too easy for them."
"I'd like a simple life. Just not the one where those two skinny girls wander around talking about how things are hot," Mel joked.
"Oh please, anything but the skanky bimbos," she said, horrified. "I think they share a single brain cell between them."
"I want to tie them down and force feed them," Mel grumbled. "And then we can shove them in front of a television and make them watch C-SPAN."
Granted Mel wasn't exactly sure what C-SPAN was but it looked really boring and therefore educational.
"I'm not sure they'd understand all the big words," Isabel snicker. "I mean Sen-a-tor is much harder to say then Pra-da."
"Speaking of feeding? At what point do you call it quits and go back for junk food? Like maybe a pint of Hagen Daaz Carmel Sutra that just happens to be hidden in a common room fridge?"
"You just said the magic words, Evans" Mel said putting her scythe away. "And I'll track down the hot fudge."
"I've been saving it for a special occasion. Declaring the island monster free for another night sounds about right to me."
And so the teenage alien and slayer headed back to the dorm where ice cream was imbibed, further life issues were discussed and plans were made to make Paris Hilton intelligent.
Okay, that last bit was wishful thinking but plans were made anyway.
[ooc: Preplayed with the fabulous izzyalienqueen. Not so much for the interaction as it is for the establishy. OOC comments are welcomed and cherished as always.]
"So. Ever do this kind of thing before?"
After leaving Peter, Isabel had been a little too awake to think about going back to her room. Running into Mel and deciding to go on patrol was a good way to get out and not think for a bit.
"No, I haven't," Isabel replied. "We don't have much of a monster problem in Roswell. Well unless you count the evil aliens or the FBI."
"Aliens?" Mel asked. "Like the giant kind in big rubber suits I see on TV? Those would actually be kind of awesome to fight!"
"Nah, they look perfectly human till they start to dry out and shed skin," Isabel explained. "It would be a hell of a lot easier if they were rubber suit looking."
"What about the FBI? What kind of aliens are those?"
"They're not," she said, peering around the extremely quiet graveyard. "They're perfectly human alien hunters. They'd like nothing more then to see us locked up as someone's lab rat."
"Ah gotcha. Bad guys," Mel said with a nod as she idly swung her scythe a little bit. "So I can beat those guys up if they show, right?"
Isabel made a face. "I'm not going to stop you. Even though Pierce is dead, the others are just as bad. I still can't believe they haven't found out about this place."
"Well some people have found where I live. So... yeah. Not exactly a secret. Who's Pierce?" Mel asked.
"He was the head of the FBI Special Unit. He tried to disect my brother when he got hold of him," she said bitterly. "Because he was such a big threat. Then Pierce shot another friend of ours and before Michael finally killed him." Isabel remembered how torn up Michael had been about that, but she wasn't going to shed any tears of his loss. "We were able to get a shapeshifter to take his place. That got the FBI off our back at least."
"Isn't that Cooper fella at the police department part of the FBI?" Mel asked. "Should we go into town and rough him up?"
"I don't know him. Which is probably stupid of me," Isabel replied. "False sense of security, I guess. But if he hasn't been doing anything suspicious, it's probably best not to attract attention."
"Man," Mel whined. " I never get to beat up anybody."
"Maybe we'll have a slightly larger invasion one of these days?" she offered. "Somehow last week's invasion just didn't rate that high on the beat people up meter."
"Plus they were originally cute. And Fuzzy. Makes it harder to rough 'em up when they are that way."
"True. Although the long nasty claws they wound up with got me over the aww cute factor pretty quickly," Isabel pointed out. "But we do need something to come by for serious butt kicking. I've got issues to work out." She shook her head and laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd prefer butt kicking to retail therapy."
"Retail therapy?" Mel asked. "I never tried that. Stealing therapy I've done but never retail. So what issues do you need to work out?"
"Retail therapy is the better choice when you don't want to worry about getting busted. Of course it helps if the credit card is funded. Which mine is, within reason, but still. Shopping just doesn't seem to have the same release anymore." Isabel kicked at a rock and shrugged. "Life in general mostly."
"Life generally can be good or bad," Mel pointed out. "The other day someone told me you can either dwell on it and ruin your day or just rut it all to hell and just make the best of it."
Then she tilted her head at Isabel giving her a careful look. "Granted it was Rikku who said it. I don't know what kind of toy you're dealing with at the moment."
Isabel nodded. "No, she's right. There's stuff you can't change and moping about it not going to do anything except make you and the people around you miserable. So pass the sunscreen and lets all go rafting on the river denial."
"We're not talking about that river in Egypt, are we?" Mel asked. "Sorry. Someone told me that once and I just want to make sure we aren't making historical metaphors or something."
"Sort of but not really," Isabel laughed. "It's a play on words. The Nile, De-Nial. I'm not sure if it's a metaphor or just a bad pun."
"I say go with both and enjoy our lack of ignorance when it comes to jokes and grammar," Mel snickered. "And then later we can fight off the reality of our lives with ice cream."
"Promise me hot fudge and I'll love you forever," Isabel replied. "Can I ask what reality you're fighting off?"
"Standard slayer angst," Mel replied. "Vague and cryptic destiny coupled with a vampire brother, a possibly dead sister, lost friends and a home timeline I can communicate with. Plus all I have is caramel topping. Would that just make us BFF's?"
"Gah! I can see why you'd need the ice cream. Destinies suck." Isabel flashed her a grin. "Caramel might get you to second base. Chocolate's required for anything beyond that."
"Should I tell Steve-Peter that or does he need to find out on his own?" Mel joked.
Isabel facepalmed. "We're not like that! Honestly! He's a friend! Why won't anyone believe me?"
"Well what if he offered you hot fudge?" Mel said with a smirk.
It was nice to tease someone else about their not-boyfriend.
"I might be persuaded to have some," she admitted slowly. "But let's not rush things okay?"
"You'd be surprised what can happen when you're not thinking," Mel said with a slight smirk. "Or if your drunk and stumble into the wrong cabin cubicle. Not that it ever happened to me."
"Please, I know all about not thinking. Thinking is safer, trust me." Because if she didn't think that chance meeting on the beach a few weeks ago would have ended a lot differently. "I can't drink. A single drop of booze gets me plastered. And that's just not a good thing."
"So are we thinking or not thinking? And rut it now I want to drink," Mel huffed. "So you can't drink any sack? Well I guess that eliminates hangovers. Ever take a drop just for fun?"
"Personally? I'm thinking. Which means that sadly, I don't have quite as much fun as I could have," Isabel shrugged. "But that's just me." She shook her head, smiling at the memory. "I've been drunk exactly twice. The first time was an accident. My coke and my Jack's bourbon and coke got switched. I wound up hugging people and telling them how much I loved them. Then I made a huge pass at Jack. I was ready to die the next morning. Not from the hangover, but from sheer embarrassment."
"Could have been worse. Jack could have accepted," Mel said with a little grin. "I'm sticking to the not thinking. It's worked well for me. Too much thinking and I'll lose sight of the important things."
"It would have been much, much worse if he did," she nodded, thinking of how Jack said the Time Agency had twisted things. "But he didn't and that's what matters." Isabel turned her head to study Mel. "So who are you not thinking about?"
"My brother. My sister. My friends who aren't with me anymore," Mel said echoing what she said before. "What I'm supposed to do, what I haven't done."
Then there's a wry grin.
"Zuko."
Isabel could relate to that way more then she wanted to admit. But since they were both supposed to be floating on the river denial, she focused on what made Mel smile. "Zuko? Oh...so it's like that?"
"Now... no fair asking me questions about things I don't wanna be thinking about," Mel said, but still grinning.
"Don't think? Just do?" she laughed. "And let the rest of us live vicariously through you?"
"I don't think people want my life. Even vicariously," Mel laughed. "Unless they like complications."
"Some people are crazy like that?" Isabel replied. "Simple is too easy for them."
"I'd like a simple life. Just not the one where those two skinny girls wander around talking about how things are hot," Mel joked.
"Oh please, anything but the skanky bimbos," she said, horrified. "I think they share a single brain cell between them."
"I want to tie them down and force feed them," Mel grumbled. "And then we can shove them in front of a television and make them watch C-SPAN."
Granted Mel wasn't exactly sure what C-SPAN was but it looked really boring and therefore educational.
"I'm not sure they'd understand all the big words," Isabel snicker. "I mean Sen-a-tor is much harder to say then Pra-da."
"Speaking of feeding? At what point do you call it quits and go back for junk food? Like maybe a pint of Hagen Daaz Carmel Sutra that just happens to be hidden in a common room fridge?"
"You just said the magic words, Evans" Mel said putting her scythe away. "And I'll track down the hot fudge."
"I've been saving it for a special occasion. Declaring the island monster free for another night sounds about right to me."
And so the teenage alien and slayer headed back to the dorm where ice cream was imbibed, further life issues were discussed and plans were made to make Paris Hilton intelligent.
Okay, that last bit was wishful thinking but plans were made anyway.
[ooc: Preplayed with the fabulous izzyalienqueen. Not so much for the interaction as it is for the establishy. OOC comments are welcomed and cherished as always.]