Beating Addictions Who: Darlene and Remy Where: Avarice When: Friday, May 21st
So, this was a true test of it, wasn't it? Actually being in a club without drinking beer. Sure, Paige might give her a good smack when she found out, but, after her major freak out of finding out about all weird things supernatural, she needed a night where she apparently WASN'T surrounded by it in some way or another. Still, she drummed her hands lightly on her legs as she sat in a barstool, sipping a coke (UGH) and listening to the music. She just wanted a night away. If only she knew how much supernatural stuff ran around Avarice, huh?
Remy was starting to become a regular at Avarice, believe it or not. The music was good and while some women got a little "fan girl" on him, most of the time he wasn't really bothered by anyone, except to ask for a dance, or a drink. He smiled as he sidled into a seat beside Darlene and ordered himself another Bourbon and Coke. He sipped it thoughtfully and then glanced at the woman to his left, "Good evening, cher," he purred.
"I'm a Darlene, not a Cher," Darlene said, thinking her was referring to the singer and not knowing a BIT of French, Cajun or otherwise. "Good evening to you, too, though." She recognized him, but knew better than to get 'fan girl' with anyone.
He smiled a little then and set his drink down on the counter. Luckily, he was more a social drinker, than anything. "Dear. ... It means dear," he explained, although there wasn't anything patronising to his voice. "I'm Remy," he supplied, since she already gave him her name. "How are you this evening?"
Most patronizing went over Darlene's head, anyway, so it wouldn't of mattered if it had been that way. "Sorry, bro, didn't make it through Spanish in high school, so most foreign stuff goes over my head." She grinned. "Me? Nervous, first time out at a bar since a stint in rehab, but doing OK. You?"
"Spanish," he repeated with a laugh. "French," he corrected. "Rehab... I was in rehab not long ago," he said, before realising that yes, he had alcohol in his hand, "not for this, obviously." He gave her a once-over and decided that she looked healthy for someone coming from an addiction. "How bad did you get?"
"Ah, French, language of love," Darlene said quickly. "Lucky you to speak it. I speak bad English and that's pretty much it." She snorted. "I'd smack your hand if you were drinking after going to rehab for alcohol. That's what I went in for, thus..." She held up her own glass of soda. "Bad enough that I was buying booze instead of food most of the time. Kind of why I put on eight pounds while I was there. They fed me more than I'd really been eating in years."
"Eating seems to agree with you," he replied, putting on just a little charm there. It surprised him when she said 'years', though. That was a long-standing addiction, right there. "What made you start drinking, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Mother was a neglectful bitch, Dad was a carny...I think. I don't know, never met the guy. I figured he was a carny or a roadie, anyway. Same class of person. Anyways...life handed me a shit hand from the deck of cards. Just took a while to realize that drinking the rest of it away wasn't really the way to go." WOW, something almost smart coming from Darlene. The world MUST be coming to an end. "Plus it made me beat people in the head with bottles, which is apparently anti-social behavior."
"I've been told it is," he replied with a cheeky little grin. His addiction had him blitzed and useless, more often than not. There were periods where he couldn't remember what he'd done, or did something he regretted when he 'sobered up'... which wasn't entirely different from Darlene. He imagined the withdrawal would be similar, and that wasn't a nice thing to go through once. He didn't want to go back there again. "What do you plan to do with the rest of your life, then?"
Darlene's own addiction had fueled an already bad anger management problem (which wasn't completely under control since she through a flower pot at a neighbor recently) but drinking made it infinitely worse. "Rest of my life... Not sure yet. Hoping to play music with my band. What about you?"
"The same," he chuckled. "Making amends. Taking time to... enjoy the little things. Maybe looking for a hobby. Exercising more... staying healthy. Seems like a lot, no?" He asked in that same accented voice, before laughing lightly. "What band are you in?"
"Strangely I don't have too much amend making to do," Darlene admitted with a laugh. "Well, maybe I should send bottle boy a gift basket." She grinned. "'Intangible Now'. My band? My band is awesome. You can't have our amazing musicians and not be amazing."
"You're lucky on both accounts there, cher. My band is amazing too, but... I did things that I'm not overly proud of. I hurt my friends. I consider this," he made a point to look around, meaning 'being alive', "my second chance, and I don't plan to ruin it."
"Well we kind of did our drinking together and amazingly our slowing down and stopping together. I kind of lucked up that I didn't turn the nasty side on them." And the fact that she was in love from afar with the idiot lead singer probably had something to do with that. She lifted her glass to him. "Here's to second chances."
"To second chances," he replied, lifting his glass in salute as well. He took a measured sip and set the glass back down on the bench, "Do you think I could have your number at all? I'd like to spend time with you that's... well, that's not in a bar." He hoped he didn't come across as creepy. It was just nice to meet someone that was more or less in the same situation that he was in.
Darlene seemed to think on that for a second before saying, "Sure," and, after asking the bartender for a pen, scribbling her number down on a napkin. Only took her three tries before getting it right and legible. "Sorry, dyslexic," she said, blushing just a tad as she handed it to him. "All this time I thought I was just stupid, but one of the workers in the rehab figured it out." Lucky her.
"Ain't nothing wrong with being dyslexic, cher," he replied warmly before taking the napkin from her. He glanced at it, then folded it neatly and placed it in his breast pocket. "Unfortunately, it's getting close to my bedtime, so I must be going. Is there any specific time I can call you, or are you not fussed?"
"I don't really do mornings but that just means that I'm always up for a late night chat," Darlene told him.
"Ah, a woman after my own heart," he replied with a grin, before standing and then stooping to kiss her cheek. "It was a pleasure talking to you, mon cher. I hope to see you soon."