[ david opens his mouth to say something — he has a place, a few bottles of decent stuff — but he's not quite had enough to drink that his brain can't stop him before he shares that fact. telling evan macmillan about his one little refuge? he's taken a lot of hits to the head recently, but he's not quite that stupid yet. ]
[ he looks down at his drink, shakes his head as another mental image floats to the surface before he can get caught up wondering what the fuck is going through his mind. ]
Imagine you tryin' to smuggle me in like a box of, I dunno. Guns or some shit.
[ it's funny enough to make david shake his head, lightly amused at the mental image. ]
[ drink #3 goes down as easily as the first two. it makes it easier to listen to david jokingly suggest they figure out how to get him back to the macmillan estate. ]
I'd be dead before you.
[ he pauses, stares into his drink with a frown. ]
Or I'd just be dead and your ass'd be in a closet somewhere, waiting for a ransom payment. You'd come out better'n me, probably.
[ david says it with a snort, shaking his head. he's pissed off way too many people to imagine he'd survive long enough for them to ransom him, plus he'd keep pissing them off while he was there too. ]
[ whatever. he waves a hand dismissively, downs a significant amount of beer, and sighs. that's too real, too close to something that could actually happen, too close to the actual sources of their misery. ]
Could always buy a bottle. Go hang out under a bridge like a pair of bums.
[ that's a joke. like either of them could haul their sorry asses to a liquor store right now anyway. ]
[ evan almost argues. his father might hate david, but he'd see the value in a ransom, or a trade, or just a general hostage situation. why start a war so quickly over his own idiot son's actions? but there's other people there who don't have that foresight or self-control. they'd kill david first, even if it got them killed.
stupid idea anyway. evan looks down at the last inch or two of beer in his glass. ]
Get us both killed that way. Someone'll rob us. Don't think we're in great condition to fight that off.
[ or they'll end up at the police station. drunk and disorderly and beat to all hell. no, he's not interested in that right now, either. ]
Got a place about three blocks from here. Not much in it, but.
[ he doesn't think about the same thing david does - that he's letting david in on a secret, a place he hides out in, a place to take back home to raid later. partly because he's lightheaded enough not to realize it, but also because he hasn't used it in three years. it's got nothing valuable in it. just a bed, a kitchen - it was supposed to be an outpost, but they changed tactics. he just never stopped paying the rent. ]
[ david looks like he wants to argue about them getting robbed like his body isn't being held together by spite and he's not halfway to drunk right now, but that moves to surprise when evan mentions his place. ]
[ but the idea appeals more than going home does, which would be real fucking upsetting to consider if he had the mental capacity for it right now. thankfully he doesn't. ]
Yeah, fuck it. Go on then.
[ a joke about how this better not be some ruse to kill him flits through his mind, but after he more or less made evan promise they're gonna beat eachother to death one day, it seems a bit much. he occupies his mouth with finishing the last bit of his beer instead. ]
[ evan follows suit, then stands, tests his balance again, and heads out.
it occurs to him about one block out that this might be a mistake, but he brushes it off. about two blocks in he wonders if he's being followed. surely someone saw them both. and is now seeing them both again, leaving. but when he checks his phone there's still nothing there. he doesn't get a lot of messages because he rarely responds to them, but now it strikes him as suspicious.
but ... whatever. better than fighting in the streets, he'll argue. keeping up appearances. maybe the remnants of the encroaching group will think the alliance was real and long-term, and back off.
the building is old, but it doesn't look like it's about to collapse. at this time of night, there's nobody outside their rooms. he takes the stairs in an attempt to clear his head. it doesn't work.
fortunately his place is still unoccupied. it's stuffy, smells like dust and mildew, but nobody else has been there. he fights a window open as david follows him inside. ]
Think there's something in the kitchen.
[ the fridge is empty, but there's an unopened bottle of gin in an upper cabinet. housewarming gift, someone told him sarcastically. ]
[ david follows him, quiet and almost thoughtful. the night air hitting his face is briefly sobering, makes him wonder what the fuck he's doing, but he looks at evan's back and remembers the promise of liquor and decides to forge ahead. glances back a couple of times because no way did nobody see them leave together, but maybe they just didn't care. ]
[ david follows him up the stairs to the apartment, wrinkles his nose a litte at the smell, but it's brief and david's already moving on. through to the kitchen when evan mentions it, starts looking through the cupboards. ]
[ when he finds the gin, david sets it down on a counter with a quiet noise of triumph like he's just solved a huge mystery and keeps rooting around for any cups or whatever they can use. or they can just pass the bottle back and forth, whatever. ]
[ evan stares out the window into the darkness. was he followed? does it matter? he's on recuperation, waiting for his ribs to heal; would anyone care if he left for a night? his father's not the waiting type. if he was really pissed, he'd have already blown up evan's phone, demanding he get back. maybe he doesn't care. it seems impossible that he doesn't know.
there's no odd shadows nearby. evan lets out a breath, then shuts the window and yanks down the blinds. nobody's going to care about one more lit-up apartment in this place.
he drops himself onto a dusty sofa in the main room connected to the kitchen and grunts as the injuries make themselves known again. ]
[ david grabs the bottle and brings it through, starts to open it but he decides it's evan's place and evan's drink, he can get it started. ]
[ he follows suit, dropping himself in one of the corners of the couch with a sharp hiss and a curse under his breath before he offers the bottle over. ]
[ evan takes the bottle without comment and opens it. the smell isn't as strong as he expected. been here too long, maybe. or not long enough. he doesn't know how aging gin works.
the first swig doesn't burn like it might if he wasn't partly drunk and beat to all hell and back. he offers it over to david after a second, grimacing. ]
[ he has no idea, but david says it confidently, a hint of amusement to his tone as he takes the bottle. david doesn't mind it so much in a cocktail or with a mixer, but on its own? not his favourite. ]
[ as is evidenced by the way he wrinkles his nose when it hits his tongue. he doesn't get much of the burn he'd expect from liquor, but he sure gets the taste he knows is uniquely gin's. ]
Shit tastes like some old bird sprayed perfume in your mouth.
[ that doesn't stop him taking a second sip before he passes the bottle back though. ]
[ david's about right, so why are they both still drinking it, he wonders? ]
Bet whatever asshole gave it to me is real pissed I never complained about it.
[ it just burns. even the beer wasn't as bad. he shoves the bottle back, feeling more drunk than he knows he should be right now, especially given how little he's actually had. ]
[ he sinks into the corner of the couch a little, warm and comfortable thanks to the alcohol in his system, which is probably why he doesn't take any real issue with what evan says. just scoffs and waves a hand dismissively before he hands it back. ]
[ evan takes the bottle begrudgingly and scowls at david. he looks too comfortable, here in evan's own fucking apartment. the anger bubbles up, but doesn't quite break the surface of alcohol, pain, and exhaustion. ]
Yeah, right. Whatever'll get you into the next club or party or ... wherever the fuck else you go.
[ he tries to sneer, but it doesn't quite work out. he takes another drink instead. ]
[ he snorts, can't argue with that, and shrugs a shoulder. ]
And if it works, I'd say they're good gifts.
[ he grins around the lip of the bottle, knowing he's being just a bit of a shit, but what's he gonna do? give evan a list of all the times he was actually deeply thoughtful or whatever? fuck that. he passes the bottle back. ]
[ david's grin makes bubbles of anger form and pop on the surface of the alcohol haze. ]
All you do is throw money at whatever's in your way. Get whatever the fuck you want. Whoever the fuck you want. Gotta wonder how many real friends you got.
[ spoken by a man who has zero real friends, but evan justifies it as he doesn't want real friends. ]
[ it works for what he needs it for; company when he's bored or lonely, a distraction, insulation against peoples' expectations. nobody expects him to be as smart or capable as he is when all they see is the man who's always either partying or fighting. ]
[ not that that means a thing where it matters, evidently. ]
Yeah? How's being a miserable bastard workin' out for you?
Better than dealin' with fake fucks all day every day.
[ evan glares at david, the alcohol making him just reckless enough to keep talking, no matter how much he might regret it later. ]
Just as fake as you. All that shit ain't real. It ain't you. The only time I think I ever saw who the hell you were was when you were trying to kill me.
[ the gin is disgusting. why does he keep drinking it. ]
[ david clenches his jaw, annoyed by the accusation, but the anger doesn't manage to take hold. not how it would if he was sober. whatever, so he's fake now. he's here in this empty apartment drinking rank gin with someone who'd kill him in a second if he could, and now he's a fake fuck. this is exhausting. ]
It's not fake, it just isn't serious. In't lookin' to any of them for friendship, just... [ he gestures to nothing in particular. ] Fun. Somethin' to take the edge off.
[ except he probably does know, but his mouth is moving and his brain isn't quite able to catch up. ]
All that goddamned partying you do?
[ this is unfair. he knows it. he knows it now, now that they've ... commiserated over their very similar shitty lives. his expression darkens and he glares at the floor where the dust is almost visibly accumulated. ]
[ david sits up straight, glaring at evan, halfway ready to get up and leave. he should've gone home instead of coming out here so evan could give him shit over what he does in his limited free time. so what if david likes to drink and party and-- and have a pretty girl on his arm? who's he hurting? ]
[ ... himself, maybe. when he wakes up hungover and looks at the woman asleep next to him, wonders how long he can keep this shit up for, but that's not anybody else's business, least of all evan fucking macmillan. ]
Why's it matter so much to you if I buy some bird a pretty trinket or go out on the lash? You think that's all I do? Fuck you.
As opposed to walkin' around, lookin' moody like you?
[ shit, at least he enjoys some of the benefits of having money, unlike evan who walks around like it's a noose around his neck and he's just waiting for someone to push him off the platform. ]
[ he can't understand why it bugs evan so much either. if anything it should be a good thing, right? if he cares so much about reputation. least he looks better than david. ]
[ he's moody. he won't admit it, though. somewhat less roughly, he runs his hands up across his scalp, where his hair is short enough that the bruises might just be visible if he looked really closely. ]
You look like a joke. Some kid. And we're supposed to be equals, kinda. Remember?
[ david reaches for the bottle where evan set it down, letting his denial of being moody slide, (though david did roll his eyes,) an amused look in his eyes now he's got an idea of why this bugs evan like it does. ]
So you're pissed 'cause you think I'm makin you look bad.
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hardlydead) wrote2024-05-20 10:36 pm
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[ he looks down at his drink, shakes his head as another mental image floats to the surface before he can get caught up wondering what the fuck is going through his mind. ]
Imagine you tryin' to smuggle me in like a box of, I dunno. Guns or some shit.
[ it's funny enough to make david shake his head, lightly amused at the mental image. ]
It'd be a shitshow.
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I'd be dead before you.
[ he pauses, stares into his drink with a frown. ]
Or I'd just be dead and your ass'd be in a closet somewhere, waiting for a ransom payment. You'd come out better'n me, probably.
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[ david says it with a snort, shaking his head. he's pissed off way too many people to imagine he'd survive long enough for them to ransom him, plus he'd keep pissing them off while he was there too. ]
[ whatever. he waves a hand dismissively, downs a significant amount of beer, and sighs. that's too real, too close to something that could actually happen, too close to the actual sources of their misery. ]
Could always buy a bottle. Go hang out under a bridge like a pair of bums.
[ that's a joke. like either of them could haul their sorry asses to a liquor store right now anyway. ]
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stupid idea anyway. evan looks down at the last inch or two of beer in his glass. ]
Get us both killed that way. Someone'll rob us. Don't think we're in great condition to fight that off.
[ or they'll end up at the police station. drunk and disorderly and beat to all hell. no, he's not interested in that right now, either. ]
Got a place about three blocks from here. Not much in it, but.
[ he doesn't think about the same thing david does - that he's letting david in on a secret, a place he hides out in, a place to take back home to raid later. partly because he's lightheaded enough not to realize it, but also because he hasn't used it in three years. it's got nothing valuable in it. just a bed, a kitchen - it was supposed to be an outpost, but they changed tactics. he just never stopped paying the rent. ]
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[ but the idea appeals more than going home does, which would be real fucking upsetting to consider if he had the mental capacity for it right now. thankfully he doesn't.
]
Yeah, fuck it. Go on then.
[ a joke about how this better not be some ruse to kill him flits through his mind, but after he more or less made evan promise they're gonna beat eachother to death one day, it seems a bit much. he occupies his mouth with finishing the last bit of his beer instead. ]
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it occurs to him about one block out that this might be a mistake, but he brushes it off. about two blocks in he wonders if he's being followed. surely someone saw them both. and is now seeing them both again, leaving. but when he checks his phone there's still nothing there. he doesn't get a lot of messages because he rarely responds to them, but now it strikes him as suspicious.
but ... whatever. better than fighting in the streets, he'll argue. keeping up appearances. maybe the remnants of the encroaching group will think the alliance was real and long-term, and back off.
the building is old, but it doesn't look like it's about to collapse. at this time of night, there's nobody outside their rooms. he takes the stairs in an attempt to clear his head. it doesn't work.
fortunately his place is still unoccupied. it's stuffy, smells like dust and mildew, but nobody else has been there. he fights a window open as david follows him inside. ]
Think there's something in the kitchen.
[ the fridge is empty, but there's an unopened bottle of gin in an upper cabinet. housewarming gift, someone told him sarcastically. ]
no subject
[ david follows him up the stairs to the apartment, wrinkles his nose a litte at the smell, but it's brief and david's already moving on. through to the kitchen when evan mentions it, starts looking through the cupboards. ]
[ when he finds the gin, david sets it down on a counter with a quiet noise of triumph like he's just solved a huge mystery and keeps rooting around for any cups or whatever they can use. or they can just pass the bottle back and forth, whatever. ]
no subject
there's no odd shadows nearby. evan lets out a breath, then shuts the window and yanks down the blinds. nobody's going to care about one more lit-up apartment in this place.
he drops himself onto a dusty sofa in the main room connected to the kitchen and grunts as the injuries make themselves known again. ]
Just bring the bottle. Didn't keep much here.
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[ he follows suit, dropping himself in one of the corners of the couch with a sharp hiss and a curse under his breath before he offers the bottle over. ]
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the first swig doesn't burn like it might if he wasn't partly drunk and beat to all hell and back. he offers it over to david after a second, grimacing. ]
Dogshit.
[ but not necessarily worse than the beer. ]
Wonder if that was intentional.
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[ he has no idea, but david says it confidently, a hint of amusement to his tone as he takes the bottle. david doesn't mind it so much in a cocktail or with a mixer, but on its own? not his favourite. ]
[ as is evidenced by the way he wrinkles his nose when it hits his tongue. he doesn't get much of the burn he'd expect from liquor, but he sure gets the taste he knows is uniquely gin's. ]
Shit tastes like some old bird sprayed perfume in your mouth.
[ that doesn't stop him taking a second sip before he passes the bottle back though. ]
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Bet whatever asshole gave it to me is real pissed I never complained about it.
[ it just burns. even the beer wasn't as bad. he shoves the bottle back, feeling more drunk than he knows he should be right now, especially given how little he's actually had. ]
Same kind of shit you'd do. Giving shitty gifts.
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[ he sinks into the corner of the couch a little, warm and comfortable thanks to the alcohol in his system, which is probably why he doesn't take any real issue with what evan says. just scoffs and waves a hand dismissively before he hands it back. ]
I give great gifts.
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Yeah, right. Whatever'll get you into the next club or party or ... wherever the fuck else you go.
[ he tries to sneer, but it doesn't quite work out. he takes another drink instead. ]
Get whatever girl you want outta her dress.
[ he shoves the bottle back. ]
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And if it works, I'd say they're good gifts.
[ he grins around the lip of the bottle, knowing he's being just a bit of a shit, but what's he gonna do? give evan a list of all the times he was actually deeply thoughtful or whatever? fuck that. he passes the bottle back. ]
I mean, they liked 'em.
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[ david's grin makes bubbles of anger form and pop on the surface of the alcohol haze. ]
All you do is throw money at whatever's in your way. Get whatever the fuck you want. Whoever the fuck you want. Gotta wonder how many real friends you got.
[ spoken by a man who has zero real friends, but evan justifies it as he doesn't want real friends. ]
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[ not that that means a thing where it matters, evidently. ]
Yeah? How's being a miserable bastard workin' out for you?
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[ evan glares at david, the alcohol making him just reckless enough to keep talking, no matter how much he might regret it later. ]
Just as fake as you. All that shit ain't real. It ain't you. The only time I think I ever saw who the hell you were was when you were trying to kill me.
[ the gin is disgusting. why does he keep drinking it. ]
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It's not fake, it just isn't serious. In't lookin' to any of them for friendship, just... [ he gestures to nothing in particular. ] Fun. Somethin' to take the edge off.
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[ except he probably does know, but his mouth is moving and his brain isn't quite able to catch up. ]
All that goddamned partying you do?
[ this is unfair. he knows it. he knows it now, now that they've ... commiserated over their very similar shitty lives. his expression darkens and he glares at the floor where the dust is almost visibly accumulated. ]
Dunno when the fuck you get anything else done.
no subject
[ david sits up straight, glaring at evan, halfway ready to get up and leave. he should've gone home instead of coming out here so evan could give him shit over what he does in his limited free time. so what if david likes to drink and party and-- and have a pretty girl on his arm? who's he hurting? ]
[ ... himself, maybe. when he wakes up hungover and looks at the woman asleep next to him, wonders how long he can keep this shit up for, but that's not anybody else's business, least of all evan fucking macmillan. ]
Why's it matter so much to you if I buy some bird a pretty trinket or go out on the lash? You think that's all I do? Fuck you.
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[ party. show off. fight. and what does evan do? fight. stand around and look dangerous. fight some more.
he sets down the gin and rubs his face with his hands, which isn't a good idea thanks to all the bruises and other sundry damage. ]
Wastin' your time. Reputation. Everything. You look like some rick prick spending daddy's money because you can't make your own.
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[ shit, at least he enjoys some of the benefits of having money, unlike evan who walks around like it's a noose around his neck and he's just waiting for someone to push him off the platform. ]
[ he can't understand why it bugs evan so much either. if anything it should be a good thing, right? if he cares so much about reputation. least he looks better than david. ]
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[ he's moody. he won't admit it, though. somewhat less roughly, he runs his hands up across his scalp, where his hair is short enough that the bruises might just be visible if he looked really closely. ]
You look like a joke. Some kid. And we're supposed to be equals, kinda. Remember?
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[ david reaches for the bottle where evan set it down, letting his denial of being moody slide, (though david did roll his eyes,) an amused look in his eyes now he's got an idea of why this bugs evan like it does. ]
So you're pissed 'cause you think I'm makin you look bad.
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