Isabella Margaret Delallo (bad_ass_babe) wrote in btvsal, @ 2009-12-14 16:47:00 |
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Current mood: | bitchy |
Entry tags: | gwen morrison, isabella delallo, place: la |
First Impressions
Who: Isabella and Gwen
Where: The Basement of Chloe’s Sugar Shack
When: Sunday Afternoon, Dec. 13th
Isabella was in the basement, waiting impatiently, wearing dark blue jeans and a white dress-shirt tucked in at the waist. The sleeves were rolled up and a couple of buttons were open at the top of her shirt. Her dark hair was tied up and back with a few errant curls framing her beautiful but strong face. She looked casual, but sort of tough and work-related as well. She grumbled a little to herself as she checked her watch. She decided that talking to Slayers as well as the Watchers would be the way to go, and as far as she understood, Gwen needed more attention than most. Especially since she couldn’t tell the time, apparently.
This fucking SUCKED. Wesley was Gwen's watcher, and as far as she was concerned? This felt like being sent to the god damned principal's office. Plus, she'd been out drinking with Darlene the night before. And by drinking? We meant the alcoholic equivalent of blowing your fucking brains out. Wearing faded powder blue jeans, sneakers, and a too-small Pikachu t-shirt, Gwen grumbled to herself as she stumbled down the steps to the basement of the Shack, clutching her head comically. "Ow. Fucking steps... why do they have to be here..." she grumbled, to herself rather than to anyone else.
"They’re clearly there to test your walking abilities, Miss Morrison," Isabella said, pursing her lips together. It was clear, straight away, that Gwen was hung over, and that just didn’t fly with the Watcher. She crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled at the blonde.
"Yeah, well, it sure ain't MRS anymore, so..." Gwen grumbled to herself, shaking her head gently. "So what, 'mom', you gonna ground me?"
"I wouldn’t think you’d find this situation funny, Miss Morrison," Isabella replied. Since she’d found a sore spot, she was just going to keep digging in.
"So who the hell are you, anyway? Giles decide he needed someone more obnoxious to push us around?" Gwen leaned against the wall, resting her head against the coolness.
"I suppose that’s one way to put it. My job is to make sure that you stay in line, and that Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is a capable Watcher." She was aware of the situation with Gwen, but that didn’t stop her from saying: "So far I’m not seeing that."
Oh SNAP. That did it. Gwen actually stomped toward the woman, hangover be damned, and got right in her face. "Say any thing you want about me, bitch. I'm used to it. But don't you EVER question Wesley OR his ability. He's the god damned reason I'm still ALIVE. He's the best, most decent human being I know, and one HELL of a watcher. You say one more thing that even SOUNDS like you're dissing him, and I will break. your. fucking. face."
There. That was the emotional response she was looking for. Isabella tried to keep from smirking at the emotional outburst, but it came out anyway. She kept her ground, only moving her arms to her sides should she have to defend herself here (sure, she’d probably still get her arse handed to her, but she liked to think she could give a little back if she had to). "There’s the passion I’m looking for. Not some hung-over mope-y little girl."
"You want passion? Go watch a porn. That's the man who's practically my FATHER you're talking about. So watch your fucking mouth." Gwen? Was NOT amused. "So give me whatever lecture you need to give me and let me be on my way."
Isabella rolled her eyes, "are you always this obtuse? I didn’t mean sexual passion; I meant passion as in rage." She wanted something from that girl that was indicative of future behaviour, and was fully prepared to push all her buttons. "And by ‘let me by on my way’ you mean ‘go back out and keep drinking?’” She guessed.
"Well..." Like she cared anymore what anyone thought about her. "I hadn't decided yet. Drinking, fucking, or crying. Maybe I'll go score some crack. There's a form of self-abuse I haven't tried yet."
Okay, that? Wasn’t what Isabella wanted to hear. She finally moved away from Gwen and pulled the tie from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. "And how long do you plan to keep doing this?"
"Until I'm over it or dead. Whichever comes first. I'm not looking for pity. I'm just tired of hurting. Everyone wants me to 'get over it' like it's a fucking cold or something. But my heart is in a thousand fucking pieces, lady." Gwen spun around and punched the concrete wall, leaving cracks and a visible hole in the shape of her fist. "I'm fucking tired of feeling this way. I wish I could just... make it go away."
"To err is to be human," Isabella replied, wincing a little as Gwen’s fist hit the wall. Not that the girl couldn’t take it… it just looked like it would have hurt. She already learned a lot from this conversation than she cared to, and the fact of it was, it was starting to depress her. "Have you considered … magic? Or…" she eyed the wall, "…hitting more things?"
"Magic? Please. You know as well as I do that using magic for personal gain never ends well." Well, at least we know Gwen can be responsible SOMETIMES, right?
Isabella’s eyebrows shot up, she honestly didn’t expect Gwen to know that… although it wasn’t exactly what she meant, either. She didn’t bother to correct herself, instead going with her other suggestion. "And hitting things?"
"Hitting shit always helps. At least for a few moments." Gwen smirked and held her head again. "Just be glad I only chose to hit the WALL."
"Oh please, like you could hit me." Ye-ah, challenging a Slayer who you spent the last twenty minutes insulting? Probably not a good idea.
"Like you're gonna bait me. I'd love to break your face right now... but Wesley don't need that shit coming back as HIS fault. So instead I'll just tell you to suck my metaphorical dick, and then kindly be on my way." Gwen turned, ready to split.
Isabella’s eyebrows shot up curiously. Well, at least the girl had her priorities sorted. "Alright, then. Mi... Gwen." She crossed her arms and exhaled loudly. "Wait. One more thing."
"What?" The blonde asked, looking ready to hit something... or someone.
Yeah, now there was a dangerous look. "I’m sorry I insulted you, and Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. It was nothing personal. Just a test."
"Great. Hope I passed." Gwen, for all her bravado, still looked simply broken. "For what its worth, if I'd have met you outside of here I'da totally taken you 'round the world."
"And I might have let you," Isabella replied with a faint smile. While Gwen thought she was broken, Isabella still had hope for her. The girl wasn’t as irreparable as she thought... Well, that’s what Isabella thought, anyway.
"Heh. Well. I do like older women." Gwen started out, then paused. "Ok. And younger women. And pretty much ALL women."
Isabella laughed. Who knew they actually have something in common? "Well, what’s not to like?"
"Yeah. Because THIS conversation can POSSIBLY end well." Arching a fine brow, Gwen snickered and turned around, heading for the door. "Have fun pissing off the other girls. Merry friggin' Christmas."
"You too," Isabella murmured. She waited for Gwen to be out of earshot before she started laughing again. Well, wasn’t she... interesting?