and you look so beautiful when you don't give a damn

[axemeaquestion]

Who: candyasss, axemeaquestion
When: WAY BACKDATED TO September 8th
Where: Rochelle's (now old) apartment
Summary: This is super backdated to back when Nick and Rochelle were fighting. Nick's got some explaining to do, Ro doesn't wanna hear it. HILARITY ENSUES except it doesn't.
Warnings: Possible cursing, allusions to sexual stuff?

Comments

[candyasss]

Nick rushed there as soon as he could. He didn't want to keep Rochelle waiting and get her even more pissed after that ridiculous crap when he tried to contact her at work. But the stubbornness had clearly paid off... well, kind of anyway. He'd gotten his foot in the door and he hoped it stayed that way.

He knew he'd been an ass. That fight had been mostly his fault... okay, maybe entirely his fault and Nick wasn't the type of guy who accepted blame or anything all that easily or well. Took a lot to make him own up to screwing up, but he was doing it.

And he was doing it for Rochelle, so he hoped it counted for something at least.

Nick made it to her place as soon as he possibly could, knocking and waiting to be let in.

[axemeaquestion]

If she had to be fair, Nick could be days late for all Rochelle cared. She had nothing to say to him. She said all she wanted to say during their shouting match those few weeks ago. He lied to her (... to her, anyway, they never really did talk about what they were and there was nothing for Nick to lie about), he was an asshole, she was done playing that game, and she was done with him. The only thing she hadn't said was that she was an idiot for not remembering what she was getting herself into

[candyasss]

And Nick just paused dead in his tracks, staring at her as she stared back a moment. He took in the bandages and the scrapes and almost-- wanted to ask what had happened, but shit. He felt like an idiot, but the words had died on his tongue, just... absolutely died. He thought this'd be easier, but Nick didn't have practice at apologizing and not more than a sorry.

He waited for her to end her call and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "I... uh."

Shit. Where was the smooth talker when he needed him, huh?

"You get yourself into some trouble, Rochelle?" Asked as he eyed the bandages on her, shifted his weight a little bit.

[axemeaquestion]

The mood she had when talking to her co-worker suddenly died as soon as they hung up, and Rochelle decided she was way too sober for this. When she looked back, she only glared at Nick and the question as she made for the fridge.

It was a little island of the kitchen, connected to the living room and only seperated by a change in flooring. Rochelle opened the fridge and pulled out one of those cheap bottles of Hurricane mix. She was saving for that car in those brochures and magazines, so even now whatever alcohol she had still wasn't exactly the fancy expensive shit.

"Mmmhmm," Finally an answer, even if it was curt and brisk "That happens when those big bastards at night flip the van over."

And that was all she felt like explaining about it. After she got herself a glass and headed for the couch again. She flopped on the couch. One hand grabbbed that brochure she was looking at before, the other had her drink.

She didn't look at him.