Michael Corner (folkdevil) wrote in caged, @ 2013-12-26 19:31:00 |
|
|||
Going home for the holidays was always welcome, even when the year wasn’t as weird as the current one was. It was nice and comforting to be home and Lisa was glad to be surrounded by family, and sleeping in her own bed. It was also a lot easier to do whatever she wanted, as well, which was a definite plus. However, it also meant that people she had got used to seeing and talking to everyday were suddenly farther away than normal. On one level, it was kind of nice to take a break, but she often ended up missing them and wanted to hang out. Lisa, honestly, wasn’t the type of person who spent too much time on her own. She liked being around people and now that Christmas Day had passed, she could invite people over no bother. She’d already told Michael to come over before, thought they’d not specified a day, but she’d got in touch earlier and told him to swing by. She supposed that meant she should have tidied up a bit, shoving the remnants of Christmas Day out of the way -- the stray scrapsinsidespping paper, the empty wine bottles in the kitchen, the opened presents sitting in piles in the living room -- but that wasn’t really the Turpin way. Anyway, she’d doubted Michael cared. Her parents had went to eat and drink with her aunt, so Lisa didn’t feel bad about commandeering the living room, moving glasses and every possible drinks combination onto the coffee table, just in case. She’d told Michael to just floo in, so when the fireplace roared, fire tinged green, she turned and smiled. “I didn’t know what you’d fancy,” she said, in lieu of a greeting, gesturing to the table. “And my motto is be prepared.” Michael had mixed feelings about how to spend the holidays. In some ways, he felt impossibly guilty at the idea of going out at all. With his father gone, he knew his mother wasn’t exactly doing well, but it was also tense and a little awkward at home. And with it being as horrid at school as it was, Michael wanted to have some fun. Now that Christmas was over, he felt a little less guilty about it, at least, especially since Christmas dinner at Susan’s had been really pleasant. So when he headed off to Lisa’s, he put the doubts about leaving the house aside. It would be okay for a bit, at least. “Anything. Everything. That’s pretty prepared though,” Michael replied as he stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off a touch of soot from his jeans. He took a proper look at the table before continuing, “I obviously expect us to drink all of this by the end of the evening.” He didn’t, really. They’d probably die. Raising her eyebrows, Lisa laughed and looked down at the table. Between Christmas booze, her parents fondness for red wine and her brothers constant need to have at least three bottles of spirits it was a pretty impressive table. “I mean, we absolutely could try but then I think we’d probably end up in Mungo’s. I don’t know if that sounds like much fun.” She laughed and moved to sit down, indicating that Michael should as well. “Pick your poison, then tell me how you are,” she said, looking up at him expectantly. “Surprise me,” Michael replied, taking a seat next to Lisa. It wasn’t like there was anything there that he wouldn’t drink, all things considered. “And you’re right, let’s skip Mungo’s tonight. It’s a pretty impressive spread though.” Leaning back, he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m good. Did you have a nice Christmas?” he asked, thinking it would be nicer to hear about Lisa than to try and explain how he really was these days. He wasn’t really good or bad. He was just there in a way, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But that wasn’t happy and today was meant to be happy. Reaching across the table, Lisa’s fingers danced in the air over two bottles for a second before she plucked the vodka up and then cranberry juice. She cut a glance towards Michael and then said, “If you make a crack about how its too girly a drink for you, just remember you’ve only yourself to blame.” She nodded, a quick jerk of her head, and then poured the drinks, passing one to him. She lifted her own glass and sat back, moving so her feet were curled mostly underneath her, fluffy socks peeking out. Smiling as she took a sip of her drink, Lisa said, “I did! It was great. My parents are going to take me on holiday over the summer, isn’t that fab?” Her excitement was evident in her voice and she even bounced a little. Truthfully, the Turpin family didn’t have a lot of money and a holiday was a big luxury: Lisa knew that and was even more appreciative of it. “Did you get nice things? I bet your mam was great to you.” After she said it, Lisa took a sip of her drink, wondering if that was a bit too weird to say but, well, she’d already said it and it wasn’t that of an unusual thing to say. She’d already reminded herself she needed to exercise some tact today. “You insult my manhood, Turpin,” Michael replied before taking the drink in his hand and swallowing a sizable gulp. It probably wouldn’t have been his choice of drink, no, but he didn’t actually mind either. And he wasn’t actually going to turn down vodka, no matter the form. “Do you know where you’re going to go?” he asked, inquiring about the holiday. It sounded like it would be nice, if they could find a place in the world that wasn’t depressing as fuck due to the war. But he didn’t want to say that, since Lisa seemed so excited about it. “And yeah, it was nice. I got a few things, and a couple of things for my birthday that Mum didn’t want to put through the post. Books, mostly. We went to Susan’s for dinner, which was nice. I think Mum appreciated not having to really face Christmas dinner with just the two of us. My brother opted not to come home, so.” “Well, we’re looking at going to Bulgaria! There’s a dragon place there I can go and have a poke around and my dad wants to visit the capital really bad. I think he can pick up some potion ingredients over there that he like, really nerded out about.” Lisa huffed a faint laugh at the memory. “I mean, that’s all dependent on us being able to -- did you know Blaise tried to leave the country for hols and wasn’t allowed? I think they’re banking on things cooling down by the summer, though.” She lifted a shoulder, shrugging, trying to breeze past it like she wasn’t concerned. “What sort of books?” Lisa asked, tilting her head towards Michael. She’d always been a voracious reader and books were guaranteed to pique her interest. At the mention of his brother, Lisa tapped her fingers against the glass. She remembered what Michael had said about his brother and the fact that he hadn’t come home didn’t lend itself to a particularly happy experience. Still. “Sorry about your brother. I could have lent you mine.” Michael hadn’t known about Blaise, but he wasn’t really surprised to hear that people couldn’t leave the country. They were undoubtedly monitoring that really closely. He wasn’t sure if he thought it would cool down by the summer, but perhaps the Ministry would come up with some sort of select travel procedure. It was possible, he figured. “I hope you get to go, at any rate. I think you’d probably really enjoy the dragons. But if anything happens, or even if it doesn’t, I was serious about visiting the reserve here if you’re still interested.” He took a long drink as he tried to decide how he wanted to navigate the topics of his dad and his brother, but it was also Lisa he was talking to. As much as he knew she tried to stay in denial about everything happening, Michael didn’t feel like he really had to censor himself with her the way he might with someone else. “A first edition of one of my Dad’s books. I guess the plan to give it to me on my 18th has been in the cards for a while, so Mum wanted to make sure it would happen. And you shouldn’t really be sorry about my brother. He’s not worth much consideration.” Lisa shifted, turning to look at Michael. A smile spread across her face, starting small and morphing into something brighter. “Thanks, Michael,” she said. “I mean, I would really really love that, it just feels kind of weird to bring it up, you know? But that’d be great. I’d love it.” She paused for a second. “Whoops, I said that already.” She listened to Michael talk about his presents, taking sips of her drink as he did. She knew that his dad was in Azkaban, so his books were probably not exactly carrying any sort of Ministry blessing. She didn’t know if they were banned or not and it felt weird to ask. “That’s a really nice present,” Lisa said instead. “Worth waiting for, it sounds like.” Honestly, that was the easy thing to say because she had no idea how on earth to respond to Michael about his brother. No idea how, but she opened her mouth nonetheless and said, “Well, if he shucks off spending Christmas with you lot I think that’s pretty shitty.” “I think it’s pretty shitty too,” Michael replied before quirking a small smile. It seemed like an absurd thing to smile at, but he’d been refraining from saying much on the topic of his brother all holiday, knowing that it wouldn’t make his mother feel any better, so it was kinda nice to actually say how he felt about it. “Probably because it is pretty shitty. But I bet he didn’t actually have a great Christmas, so at least there’s that. I’m choosing to believe that he probably regretted not coming and now he’s just too stubborn to admit it.” That sounded a bit like his brother, at any rate. “But let’s talk happy things, yeah? Do you have exciting New Years plans?” he asked before downing the rest of his drink and reaching to refill it with more vodka. He skipped the cranberry the second time around. “Not hanging out with you and your mum? He’d be mad not to regret it,” Lisa said, adopting a confident, wise tone. She moved to push her shoulder against Michael’s, briefly, before skipping lightly on to something happier. “Ugh, I don’t even know about New Year,” she said, sighing as if it was the greatest hardship. “Someone should throw a party. I said I might but I want someone else to do it. Have you ever thrown a proper party? It’s so much work.” Every possible word she could add a flourish to, Lisa had and then she sighed again. Really, she didn’t often mind throwing parties but Lisa could occasionally be a little lazy with planning things. “What about you? I mean, you said the lead ups your fave, you have to have plans, right?” “As it stands, I don’t. I keep waiting to hear if someone’s going to have a party but I haven’t heard much. You ought to, regardless of the work involved,” Michael said with a grin. Sure, he didn’t really know all that was involved in throwing a proper party, but he thought it might be fun if Lisa did it. Which meant gentle encouragement, which would only be helped by the alcohol, he figured. So he reached out and refilled Lisa’s glass. Lisa glanced over at Michael and raised an eyebrow. “If you make me throw a party, you have to help me set it up. And also come,” she said, nodding her thanks for refilling the glass. She would have added in a mixer, but Michael hadn’t and she felt like she had to keep pace. The vodka didn’t exactly taste nice and Lisa wrinkled her nose as the liquid burned a path down her throat. “God, you’re just trying to get me drunk.” “That was the point of tonight, wasn’t it?” Michael asked innocently. “You can add something to it. I won’t judge.” Just because he wasn’t particularly partial to cranberry didn’t mean that she had to follow suit. “Of course I’ll come though,” he added and then, after a drink, “and I suppose I could help you set it up too. If you’ll actually do it.” “Oh thank Christ,” Lisa said and reached for the juice, topping her drink up. “I don’t have enough hair on my chest for straight vodka. Do you do that a lot? Haven’t you burned the skin off your throat?” She took a long drink, which was a lot nicer now it wasn’t straight and she made a satisfied noise. “I can have a party. It’ll be mad. We’ll get people to do funny dances and if everyone isn’t pissed and grabbing their best mate for a midnight snog, I’ll cry. That’s what New Years is about, right?” Lisa laughed and took another long drink. “Yeah, but when it burns there’s no question what it is you’re drinking. Less likely to let it all take you by surprise when you feel it going down,” Michael said, shrugging slightly. Admittedly, he didn’t tend to sip vodka; he tended towards other liquors for that, but they were getting drunk and it would do. It was already a nice warm feeling, at the very least. “Definitely what New Years is about. If you’re not making out with someone, you’re not doing it right. The funny dances are a plus.” “What, is what you’re drinking often up in the air?” Lisa asked, adopting a scandalised expression. “Tell me more. What are your scandalous stories that you’re keeping from me!” She leaned forward, widening her eyes in a very typical ‘please give me gossip now’ gesture. “How many funny dances do you know, Michael? And, if I get you drunk enough, will you do some of them?” “You can never really trust Terry and Anthony,” Michael said with a grin, before drinking the rest of his vodka. He didn’t immediately fill it up again, though. “There was one night where they just kept handing me drinks and well. I don’t really remember much but I imagine there were funny dances that night as well. So, the answer to that question is likely a few and probably.” Tilting his head, he studied Lisa for a moment. “But what will you do if I get you drunk enough?” Michael might not have moved to fill his glass up, but Lisa moved to do it instead. She decided to switch it up though, reaching for the rum and then passing it to him. If he wanted a mixer he could help himself, which she trusted he knew. “I would never trust Terry and Anthony with alcohol,” she said, laughing. “Thought that sounds like a hilarious story. I’m going to ask them about it now. Or, well, later but you know what I mean!” Lisa, nearly always chatty anyway, could feel her tongue loosening with the alcohol, more words than she needed to say escaping. She laughed a little, partly at herself and partly at nothing, and poured herself another drink, sipping from it before she settled back into the sofa. “If you get me drunk enough,” she started, imperiously, and then paused. She repeated herself and then shrugged. “I dunno. There isn’t much I’d not do sober that I’d do while drunk. Silly dances are no match for me.” “You should ask them about it. They probably remember far more than I do.” In fact, the majority of that evening was hazy at best and pretty much nonexistent at worst. Which was probably the mark of a good evening, really. Michael skipped the mixer again, opting to take a sip of the rum straight, finding it a bit more palatable than the vodka, at any rate. “So are you saying that you would silly dance right now then?” Lisa studied Michael for a moment and then grinned. “Of course,” she said and scrambled up, heading for the wireless. She turned it on, flipping stations until it wasn’t some newsreader or some soap and swayed a little back and forth to the music. She tried to listen out for the rhythm before she realised it really didn’t matter: silly dances were pretty much based on being absolutely incongruous and bizarre. Laughing a little already, Lisa turned and did the silliest short dance she could possibly think of, which unsurprisingly involved imitating a chicken. She didn’t much care that she looked ridiculous. Really, she wouldn’t have cared anyway, but the alcohol definitely helped with that. “Told you,” she said, dropping down onto the sofa beside Michael and reaching for her drink again. “I rock at silly dances.” Michael should have expected her to get up and start dancing, but somehow he was still surprised when she did. The whole chicken dance was just a plus, and he laughed as he watched her. Still, he was glad when she sat back down instead of trying to make him join in. Lisa may not have a problem with silly dancing, but Michael was definitely not quite drunk enough for it yet. “You do,” Michael agreed with a short applause. “I think you’ll do just fine with the silly dances at New Years.” “Will I beat you at the silly dance competition?” Lisa asked, wonderingly. “That’s the real crux of the matter, though. I’d quite like to beat you. I’ve dedicated myself to it. Hours of training.” She tried to smooth out the amusement from her face and look very sombre and serious. She couldn’t see her face, so she didn’t know how well that had worked, but that didn’t matter much to her. As long as an attempt was made. The attempt didn’t actually work so well, but Michael didn’t say anything about it. The whole conversation was absurd enough that it wasn’t like it was really something to take seriously, no matter what. “But hour of training might not stand a chance against innate talent.” That he assuredly didn’t have, but that was besides the point. “So we’ll have to see how you do against me in the silly dance competition. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if how well I do directly correlates to how much I’ve imbibed.” Speaking of which, it was time to top off his drink and he did, before topping off Lisa’s as well. “Ah, but I also got silly dance lessons for Christmas,” Lisa said and then nodded. “So you know, your innate talent might have nothing on me. Eventually." Trailing off, Lisa wrinkled her nose and looked at Michael. "Do we think that makes it sound like I think you're better than me, at heart or whatever because no, I don't want that." She did, however, want the topped up drink though she could feel the alcohol buzzing through her, warming her insides and making her face flush a little. Taking another drink, Lisa said, “You know. I think I feel pretty drunk. That’s sad, isn’t it?” “Why would it be sad? That’s the point, right?” Michael was starting to feel a bit drunk himself so he wasn’t really surprised that Lisa was. “There’s been a bit of continual drinking here, so it’d be more surprising if you weren’t. That,” he paused so the emphasis was quite thoroughly on the word, “would be the sad thing.” Michael smiled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned a little more thoroughly into the sofa. “But don’t worry, I believe that you believe that you’re better than me at silly dancing no matter what.” Giggling at Michael, Lisa moved so she was sitting a little closer. She had her drink clutched pretty close to her chest and kept taking tiny sips. Realising that that could be seen as odd, Lisa announced, “By the way, I’m only doing this because sometimes I like to pretend that if I take tinier sips I’m drinking a tinier amount of alcohol. And then I’ll not get as drunk! And then I won’t be hungover!” She turned her head to look at him, widening her already pretty wide eyes. “It’s like maaaaaaagic,” she said, wiggling the fingers of one hand as she said it, the end of the word almost swallowed by her own laughter. Michael’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to pull together a skeptical look, but he didn’t quite manage it, breaking out into laughter instead. “I don’t think it works that way!” he pointed out. “You’d be better off just keeping a stash of hangover potion about and drinking some water before you go to bed. Which isn’t soon, by the by, we’re just getting started.” And as if to prove his point, Michael downed the rest of his drink. How, exactly, that was proving his point he wasn’t entirely sure, but it absolutely was. “We’re just getting started?” Lisa repeated, making it a question even though she knew it wasn’t really one. She watched Michael polish off the last of his drink and reached over, plucking it out of his hands and setting it on the table beside hers. She hummed for a second, staring at the collection of booze and reached for the amaretto, splashing some into the glass. “You have to drink this in one,” she told him as she handed the glass back. Then she slammed her drink back, keeping her head tipped back for a moment longer to savour the taste. “Amaretto’s my favourite,” she said, as if confiding a secret. “It was the first one I hit on that I actually properly liked and can drink it straight. Pansy was with me when I found out. We were having a grand time -- it was just over the summer, you know, but it was before the rodeo thing we went to. Why’d I say you know -- I never told you about that. Anyway, we drank a bunch of this stuff one night. It was great. I didn’t do any silly dances then, though. Massive shame.” Setting her glass back down on the tablet, Lisa remained sitting on the floor and staring at the bottles of alcohol. “You can pick one next. It has to come with a story, though. Price of admission to Lisa’s living room.” “I have a hard time imagining Pansy Parkinson doing silly dances at all,” Michael remarked before downing his drink. Or being a decent person at all, he thought but he chose not to voice that. He knew full well that his opinion of Pansy and Lisa’s opinion of Pansy were two rather different things. So instead he contemplated the spread of booze in front of him. As well as what story could accompany any of it. Or at least, a light story. He didn’t much feel like getting ridiculously sentimental. He finally reached out and grabbed the gin, pouring it into their glasses with a bit of tonic to match. “I always did like gin. Tastes like Christmas in a glass. Last year I drank a whole bunch of it and then managed to arrange my entire neighborhood into a mass snowball fight. It was pretty excellent.” “I can tempt anyone into anything,” Lisa said, flipping her hair and adopting a smug expression. Her laughter a second later, loud and bright, melted the expression though and she kept giggling as she took the gin and tonic, taking a sip and holding it in her mouth for a moment. She tried to find what Michael had in the drink. “A mass snowball fight?” she repeated. “That sounds wonderful. I wish I could’ve seen that. Or that people around here would do that. I mean, there’s some kids, but I don’t really want to be the eighteen year old firing snowballs at a bunch of six year old boys. That’d make me look well weird.” She took another sip of the drink then hummed. “I only kinda get the Christmas thing, though. Does your family drink it a lot at Christmas or something?” “Luckily, I managed to convince just about everyone, so the ages ranged from kids of six or seven to adults well into their fifties. It was pretty excellent. I doubt I’ll ever be able to do such a thing again, but it was a pretty awesome day. I don’t know that we drink gin a lot at Christmas, but I have it more often this time of year. I think I just find the whole juniper flavour bit to be kinda reminiscent of the time of year. I don’t know.” Shrugging, Michael took a slower drink of his gin, before smiling. “Oh come on,” Lisa said. “You’re totally the sort of person who can whip people up into a snowball fight frenzy any time you want. I bet you can charm them all out, and they’ll be like, ‘Why, yes, of course Mr Corner (because this is when people will call you that), we’d love to come out in the cold and throw snowballs.’” Lisa had adopted her most Scottish accent to imitate Michael’s future neighbours. “And then you’ll think back on this and feel like a fool for ever doubting that’d happen again. I’m looking out for future you here.” Lisa drank more of the gin, moving back to the sofa and curling into it. Every movement felt both sharp and sluggish, the effect of the alcohol on her apparent. She folded herself up, then stretched out, poking Michael with her foot, mostly by accident. “Now I kinda wish I’d bought you gin for Christmas. You look pretty happy.” “Your accent is terrible,” Michael pointed out with a laugh. “I don’t sound a bit like that and neither do any of my neighbors, I’ll have you know.” He thought about feigning insult, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face the least bit in the process. He was definitely more than starting to feel the effects of the alcohol himself, although he didn’t think it was entirely obvious. Maybe. “I don’t know if it’s just the gin. The company’s pretty good now too,” he said before poking at Lisa’s foot. Lisa beamed at Michael, broad and sloppily happy. “I am pretty great company,” she said, pulling her foot back. “I mean why wouldn’t you be happy with me around?” Still laughing, Lisa wrapped an arm around her waist and said, “You’re pretty good too. I mean, even though you don’t appreciate my fabulous Scottish accent. Which I picked up from you, entirely, by the way.” “I still assert that I don’t sound a bit like that. You don’t hear me trying to mock your accent.” Mostly because he knew better than to think he could properly mimic it. “But even despite that, I guess you’re pretty nice company. I mean. I’m here, after all.” He leaned over so he could knock her a little with his shoulder. Lisa smiled and settled back, attempting to trap Michael’s shoulder behind hers. It was ridiculous and a little childish and she didn’t particularly care, honestly. She laughed a little, saying, “Of course you’re here. I mean, it’s after Christmas, where would you be? With your family?” Pulling a face, Lisa shook her head emphatically. “Nah. Survey says most people would want to get shitfaced with me, right?” “Well look at how well you treat them,” Michael said, nodding towards the drink table. “They should want to get shitfaced with you. You’re doing a pretty good job at that.” He could certainly feel it, at the very least. He looked at where she’d trapped his shoulder for a moment and then shrugged with his other, taking a drink. “I am a fantastic host,” Lisa proclaimed, taking a long drink and emptying her glass. She didn’t move to fill it up immediately, though, letting herself lean back and relax for a moment. It was nice to just sit sometimes, with someone whose company she enjoyed. Lisa felt curiously light, like there wasn’t anything to worry about at the moment. “Want to eat some Christmas dinner leftovers and get more drunk?” |