"Well," I said, staring foggily up at the volleyball net with a strangely foreign, evil little ball in my hands. "It seemed like a good idea at the time
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"Where you goin', dressed up so nice?" I smirk, and I've gotta admit, I almost walked right on past her, dismissed as stranger 'til I hear the monotone grumble of her voice.
There's my fuckin' lighter. As soon as she's lit up, I snatch it out of her hand and slip it back into my pocket, arm wrapped around her collar bones in a loose choke-hold and grinning down at her over her shoulder.
"Ow, Jesus, youuuuuuu..." and I truly did mean to finish mumbling that sentence around the joint, but by the time my brain caught up to my mouth I was already laughing and coughing out smoke and pinching it away from my face so I didn't burn my nose off.
"You're heavy, get off," I tried to nudge his grip loose.
I looked down at myself. At my legs (which, happily enough, weren't as disgustingly skinny as they used to be), at my stomach (oh, Jesus, what the fuck), at the bikini top (way too much of nothing exceptionally exciting showing, thank you very much) and then at the shortened ends of my hair, this little bob thing cut just above my shoulders.
"Yeah... I don't recognize my either," I blinked and then shivered some, looking a little bit freaked out. "I've finally gone and done it. I'm completely apeshit," I half-scowled, half-grinned, half just stared dazedly -- yes, I know, too many halves there, shut up -- and then burst out laughing.
The world was upside down, and inside out. Javert had passed a sleepless night in the little wooden church, praying for answers which never came. Dawn had found him on the coast, walking the sand, leaving footprints which he could, perhaps, follow back. In the heat, he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, waistcoat, but no coat, and, still, he sweated.
There was a girl on her back in the sand, smoking.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," he said, making to skirt around her. It seemed to him that nobody here spoken French.
I sort of scrambled up and snatched up the volleyball ball, hugging it to my chest as I took another long drag because, you know, it might have been in the way or something.
And he looked like a complete fucking psycho, all dressed up with nowhere to go, and French to boot. I mean, old freaking French. We're talking beret and baguette and striped shirt mime kind of French. But they say insanity loves company, so naturally I decided to make friendly conversation.
The girl scrambled to pick up her ball, and Javert watched, puzzled. Perhaps he had inadvertently interrupted a game he had neither noted, nor understood. He bristled, momentarily, and then he reminded himself that that was not his role. No longer the Inspector.
"I am...sorry to disturb your game, Mademoiselle. Forgive me."
"My what?" And still, all I could think was, Tee-hee, French people. Ridiculous, I know. "Never mind, what are you doing out here looking like that? Um..." I trailed off because the waistcoat was doing hilarious things in my head.
I wondered if there was a pocket watch in there somewhere. "You could get heat stroke, you know. You probably don't want to do that, mate."
Oh wait, English people said "mate." What did French people say? Maitre?
Not being one to just sit around letting the day escape from him, Zack had been exploring the island, revising places Cloud had shown him on the Grand Tour. He had originally thought the Compound was the furtherest place from the Dojo. Today, however, he went the opposite direction down the path and found himself on what most definitely had to be the furthest place from the Dojo. The beach looked identical, only this one had a volleyball net. And a girl. A nearly naked girl who... was smoking something?
"You shouldn't smoke, you know," he said in his best authoritative SOLDIER 1st Class voice. "It's bad for your health."
Part of me meant to tell him off while another part of me insisted on laughing, but what came out something a mixture of the two. "Listen, pal, I'll tell you what's bad for your health -- " I waved the joint dismissively at him and then sort of just... stopped.
And stared. Openly, actually. Okay, maybe it was more like leering, but I sure as hell didn't mean for it to be. "... hey there."
"Heya," he replied. "Sorry if I startled you." He could only assume that was why she was looking at him that way. In this case, it wasn't because he was too thick to see the open leering. He was just preoccupied with the smoking. Not to mention, the whole Aeris thing.
"So...uh...you gonna put that out?" he gestured to the still lit joint.
The T-1000 was about to pass by the girl without saying a word - she wasn't drowning, naked or in possession of interesting weaponry, which made her of no particular interest to him - but the smell stopped him. It wasn't as bad as the Commander's cigars, but it was close.
He turned sharply, nose wrinkled, looking for the source of the sensory disruption.
"What's that?" he tilted his head at the cigarette... thing.
I blinked and waved away a huge cloud of smoke to see better, squinting at the guy, and then all of a sudden letting my chin drop forward.
Because oh my God, what the fuck. I'm not all that big on mindless action bullshit, but that face, and especially that expression, was kind of memorable. I mean, just a bit. "Nunya. Who are you?" I countered, just to make sure.
He squinted right back, as a natural anti-smoke reaction. "Austin. The T-1000." And clearly she recognized him, but maybe she could use a clarification, "Yes, the killer robot from the movie." Just this once, he managed not to mention Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was liberating.
He attempted to stifle a cough, with little success. Why were humans so intent on poisoning themselves?
Austin? O-kay. T-1000? A little closer, I guess, just because it sounded futuristic technowhatever. And then ah, yes. There we go.
Huh. As far as killer robots went, this one seemed strangely blasé. That thought alone made me snicker some, clearly tickled silly by something or another. "Uh. It's a powerful vitamin supplement that should only ever be smoked," I drawled. "Chock full of aloe vera and whatsits. Anti-oxidants. Sure you don't want some?"
Comments 116
There's my fuckin' lighter. As soon as she's lit up, I snatch it out of her hand and slip it back into my pocket, arm wrapped around her collar bones in a loose choke-hold and grinning down at her over her shoulder.
Reply
"You're heavy, get off," I tried to nudge his grip loose.
Reply
"Look at you, I almost didn't recognize you." Grinning, I reach up and flick the little bow at the back of her neck, just to be obnoxious.
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"Yeah... I don't recognize my either," I blinked and then shivered some, looking a little bit freaked out. "I've finally gone and done it. I'm completely apeshit," I half-scowled, half-grinned, half just stared dazedly -- yes, I know, too many halves there, shut up -- and then burst out laughing.
Reply
There was a girl on her back in the sand, smoking.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," he said, making to skirt around her. It seemed to him that nobody here spoken French.
Reply
And he looked like a complete fucking psycho, all dressed up with nowhere to go, and French to boot. I mean, old freaking French. We're talking beret and baguette and striped shirt mime kind of French. But they say insanity loves company, so naturally I decided to make friendly conversation.
"Sup."
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"I am...sorry to disturb your game, Mademoiselle. Forgive me."
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I wondered if there was a pocket watch in there somewhere. "You could get heat stroke, you know. You probably don't want to do that, mate."
Oh wait, English people said "mate." What did French people say? Maitre?
Reply
"You shouldn't smoke, you know," he said in his best authoritative SOLDIER 1st Class voice. "It's bad for your health."
Reply
And stared. Openly, actually. Okay, maybe it was more like leering, but I sure as hell didn't mean for it to be. "... hey there."
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"So...uh...you gonna put that out?" he gestured to the still lit joint.
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Well, fuck that. Uptight much? "My health is relative," I grinned dazedly at him. On the island my health was fairly all right. Off the island? N/A.
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He turned sharply, nose wrinkled, looking for the source of the sensory disruption.
"What's that?" he tilted his head at the cigarette... thing.
Reply
Because oh my God, what the fuck. I'm not all that big on mindless action bullshit, but that face, and especially that expression, was kind of memorable. I mean, just a bit. "Nunya. Who are you?" I countered, just to make sure.
Reply
He attempted to stifle a cough, with little success. Why were humans so intent on poisoning themselves?
"What's a nunya?"
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Huh. As far as killer robots went, this one seemed strangely blasé. That thought alone made me snicker some, clearly tickled silly by something or another. "Uh. It's a powerful vitamin supplement that should only ever be smoked," I drawled. "Chock full of aloe vera and whatsits. Anti-oxidants. Sure you don't want some?"
Reply
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