Percy was, for the most part, uninterested in people that night. He rather preferred the idea of solidarity with his gin, a few stolen notes to pay for a night of drunkenness. The man he'd taken his fill of earlier had only just started to ride a high, probably one that would have killed him if Percy's head was anything to judge by, and as a result his gin sat on the bar alone, more than being drank.
But he could imagine himself drinking it, as if imagining made it real, the effects of liquor sliding through his system seemed to take hold.
That was why, he imagined, that in trying to stand, he leaned too far over and bumped into the fellow next to him. He, of course, didn't seem to take well to that, and in a fit pushed the vampire back, cursing up a storm. In a sober moment, Percy might have taken the piss out of him for it. But instead, the vampire only laughed in a manner that suggested he wasn't really all there at all.
What? Curt could swear up all the storms he wanted to. It had been a long week.
So he didn't respond to well to drunken idiots stumbling all over him. A little hypocritical, considering how often he was one of them, back when there were drugs aplenty backstage. Sometimes, it was amusing, given he was in a good mood. It was just recently - which was really the last five years or so; maybe not so recent - that Curt was figuring out how annoying it could be, being on the receiving end of drugged out people.
Curt shoved the dude off of him. Guy freaking laughed like they were palling around, good ol' days or something like that.
"What are--" Curt started to ask, ducking a little to peer into the guy's face. No way. So he asked for a distraction and a distraction, she doth appear? That was kind of cool. Like God had just taken a minute to go, 'I've been mad at Curt so long, I don't remember what it was about - let's give him a break for a minute'. "No fuckin' way, man, I haven't seen you in the longest time. The hell are you doing here
Eh? Percy looked at the fellow oddly. Did he know him? Peering a little closer, Percy thought about it hard, and still unable to place him only nodded along dumbly. Maybe he did, and in such a stupid state (admittedly, drugs ate at ones brain, but could a dead brain be any worse off than it was?) simply couldn't recall either way.
"Yes," he said with a bit of a British slur. "Been a while, mate." Or at least something to that jovial affect. "I was just leaving. A bit stuffy in here..." He was in a mind for trouble now, anyway. Trouble meant away from places with phones. Cops were not the thing to deal with when one couldn't stand up well.
Malcolm sounded... odd. More British. If that was possible. Maybe he'd spent a lot of time in Europe? Curt had spent long enough in Berlin, then a bit of a stint in Edinburgh, tailing Jack around. Made sense The Flaming Creatures would stop by the continent too. ...Well, not really, but it was the only explanation Curt had right now and he was rolling with it.
"No, yeah, this place is a drag," Curt replied, passively, draining the rest of his drink and grinning a little, almost nostalgically. "What are the odds, man? You and me, some shitty little dump of a club in the middle of nowhere." 'Nowhere' being 'the city' but. Entirely beside the point.
Curt latched onto Percy's - Malcolm's? - shoulder, almost like he was kind of nervous the guy was going to bolt. Wash-up rock stars and all, didn't make for too interesting a conversation. But, hey, Curt missed him. "So, wait, where you goin' after this? Where're you staying?" And could he tag along?
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But he could imagine himself drinking it, as if imagining made it real, the effects of liquor sliding through his system seemed to take hold.
That was why, he imagined, that in trying to stand, he leaned too far over and bumped into the fellow next to him. He, of course, didn't seem to take well to that, and in a fit pushed the vampire back, cursing up a storm. In a sober moment, Percy might have taken the piss out of him for it. But instead, the vampire only laughed in a manner that suggested he wasn't really all there at all.
Which, honestly, probably was quite true.
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So he didn't respond to well to drunken idiots stumbling all over him. A little hypocritical, considering how often he was one of them, back when there were drugs aplenty backstage. Sometimes, it was amusing, given he was in a good mood. It was just recently - which was really the last five years or so; maybe not so recent - that Curt was figuring out how annoying it could be, being on the receiving end of drugged out people.
Curt shoved the dude off of him. Guy freaking laughed like they were palling around, good ol' days or something like that.
"What are--" Curt started to ask, ducking a little to peer into the guy's face. No way. So he asked for a distraction and a distraction, she doth appear? That was kind of cool. Like God had just taken a minute to go, 'I've been mad at Curt so long, I don't remember what it was about - let's give him a break for a minute'. "No fuckin' way, man, I haven't seen you in the longest time. The hell are you doing here
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"Yes," he said with a bit of a British slur. "Been a while, mate." Or at least something to that jovial affect. "I was just leaving. A bit stuffy in here..." He was in a mind for trouble now, anyway. Trouble meant away from places with phones. Cops were not the thing to deal with when one couldn't stand up well.
Reply
"No, yeah, this place is a drag," Curt replied, passively, draining the rest of his drink and grinning a little, almost nostalgically. "What are the odds, man? You and me, some shitty little dump of a club in the middle of nowhere." 'Nowhere' being 'the city' but. Entirely beside the point.
Curt latched onto Percy's - Malcolm's? - shoulder, almost like he was kind of nervous the guy was going to bolt. Wash-up rock stars and all, didn't make for too interesting a conversation. But, hey, Curt missed him. "So, wait, where you goin' after this? Where're you staying?" And could he tag along?
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