For Sweetheart

[got_your_tongue]

Doll's in the bar, doing her level best to take up an entire booth for herself.


(She went a few rounds with Donny--turned the tables on him this time--and worked a couple sentences. She thinks she's got the weirdness worked out of her system. She thinks.)


She's nursing a glass of bourbon, making liberal refills from the bottle on the table. There may also be some humming.

Comments

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

A whole booth? Tsk! There are other people who might want to use some of it, y'know.

Like, say, the contractor sliding onto the opposite bench and stealing the bottle.

[got_your_tongue]

Pouty faaaaace.

"You," Doll says with all the careful enunciation of the drunk, "are stealing."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

She takes a swallow.

"Only a little! Besides, turnabout is fair play."

She blows a kiss and slides the bottle back over.

[got_your_tongue]

"True."

She smiles; it's a little tilted to one side, but...so is she.

"What've you been up to, hm?"

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"The usual. Work. Re-cataloging my library when I got bored because I'm that lame. You?" She eyes the bottle. "Is there an occasion?"

[got_your_tongue]

"Working. Visited Donny."


Driiiiiink.


"And I met this girl."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"Here? Downside?"

Sweets would hardly blame Doll for wanting someone in her own time.

[got_your_tongue]

"Here."


She contemplates hurling her glass on the floor, just to hear the sound.




"Her name was Nita."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"Y--"

She's gone pale.

"Oh my God."

[got_your_tongue]

Doll slides the bottle back across the table.

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

After a minute, Sweetheart reaches out and takes a long drink.

A very long drink.



Finally, she puts the bottle down with a considerably sloshier clunk and asks, with slight cheer, "And how was she?"

[got_your_tongue]

Doll laughs, a short bark that's more startled than amused.

"She was doing pretty well."

(alive alive alive)

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"How old was I--"


Another drink.

"She."

[got_your_tongue]

She looks down into her glass like it has the answer.

"Late twenties? I think."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"Did -- she have a scar down her back? Neck to tailbone, about?"

[got_your_tongue]

"Can't say that I saw."

There's that mix of surprised and amused again. It fades.

"...although she did mention celling Jasmine. And--"

(something to remember her by)

"--yeah. Think she might have."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"Oh, Jesus."

She grabs for the bottle.

[got_your_tongue]

Doll empties her glass.

She is giving very strong consideration to bashing her head against the back of the booth until she passes out.

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

Okay, now she's done with the bottle.

"Sorry."

[got_your_tongue]

"Don't be."

(not for this)

She refills her glass to just beneath the rim and takes a careful sip.

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

She scrubs her hands over her face.

"Fuck. I -- I don't know what to say."

[got_your_tongue]

"And I don't...



Look, just to get everything on the table, I kissed her and I think I freaked her out but I apologized and I left and there are times I really hate this place."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

She lets out a laugh. "Oh, don't worry about that. I dealt with weirder than being kissed by a woman. Oh, God."

She grabs for the bottle, discovers it has a couple swallows left at best, and flags down a waitrat.

"I'm sorry, if I don't get really drunk really fast I'm going to start thinking about dying."

[got_your_tongue]

"No, no, go ahead."

Doll hides her face in her glass for a moment.



"You--She asked. What that was like for me."

[notveryfearful.livejournal.com]

"What, dying?"

The waitrat returns with a bottle of whiskey. Sweetheart fumbles a little getting it open, but succeeds eventually.