Who. Charlie and Samantha. What. The two meet again, this time on purpose When. TBA Where. Somewhere with-in the Haunted house, Charlie's room Status. Incomplete
A masochist, she knew what it meant but how it applied to her she wasn’t sure, so why had he said it? She didn’t think of herself as someone that enjoyed pain, torture or being degraded – she could see his point on her possibly wanting to be submissive but that was merely because he looked at himself as someone that could cause someone to submit to him. She didn’t know yet if she could or would. He was so intriguing and somehow found his way into her mind. She had thought about him several times since their first encounter and she had to admit, she was more than just a little fascinated by him. She cared, without knowing him; she cared for him and his well-being. She didn’t like the idea that he was in that house alone more often than not. She could tell that he loved what he did, but that didn’t mean he always wanted to be alone in the dark, did it?
She had dressed up a little, just a little though. She was worried how it would look if she made her way to his place of business; his home… dressed the way he had requested. She made sure to dress a little sexy though; for the first time in her life, she didn’t mind. Tight dark blue jeans, riding low on her hips with a black lace corset showing off the features others often thought she lacked. She dressed a certain way on most days, baggier shirts that made her slim frame seem as if there were nothing too it, but this outfit would assure anyone that there was. Her chest wasn’t large like many of the other women, but it was a nice full B cup, she had hips and an ass, she had never felt a need to show it off though, until now that was. She grabbed a jean jacket to cover herself up a bit, just in case. She could hear that noises beneath her feet, crunching sawdust and gravel. She loved the smells, it reminded her of home. She missed her horses and the country made her remember, she smiled, it was nice to be free and not afraid of who she was. She may not know it yet, but she knew she was closer than ever to finding it out. It took about five minutes to get from her trailer to the haunted house, there were no marks as they had all gone home and just a lone janitor could be seen sweeping up the ramps of the attractions. She made her way in, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. Now, where was he?
The moment she came in the door he knew it; he was in one of the little dioramas, adjusting an animatronic mummy that would pop out of its sarcophagus on a hydraulic timer when it was working properly. He had just shut it off to let it rest for the night; in the morning he'd see if one of the handymen could come poke it with a screwdriver or whatever it was that they did. Its timing circuitry was a bit off. "I'm in here," he said, his voice low; without the soundtrack blaring or the sounds of shrieks, sounds carried perfectly well in here.
She smiled as she heard him and walked in his direction, it was warm in there but it was nice, not an exhausted heat like some of the other attractions. She licked over her lips, a habit she was not yet aware she had, and quietly pushed her way through a hanging door. Her eyes still adjusting to the dim lights, she was finally able to make out figures and detail, in a few moments her vision would have adjusted perfectly and she’d be able to see his face. “Hey, whatcha workin’ on?” she was standing in the hallway leading to where he was, about ten to twelve feet from where he stood.
"This stupid thing isn't popping up when it's supposed to," he said, stepping down off the platform and under the glow of a red bulb. "It has a motion detector but I think the sensor's off. Someone'll fix it tomorrow probably." He squinted in the darkness. "Can't see shit in here."
She couldn't help but smile, he was absolutely adorable. "Think they'd mind if I took a look, you wouldn't tell on me, would you?" She made sure to put the right inflection on certain words, he knew he wouldn't see her raised eyebrow or smirk that laid upon her face, so how else could she make sure he knew she was being playful? She slowly walked over to it and crouched down; she knew just by looking at it that all of the wiring would be in the base. Her father was quite handy and right out of HS, just a few months before she ran away she attempted to get an apprenticeship with an electrical company. They hired her instantly and she's never loved a job quite as much, unfortunately there were too many grabby hands and men that couldn't handle the fact that a woman was better at their job than they were. That was when she knew she couldn't stay in her town, couldn't stay where she wanted too.
"What, like you actually know how to fix it?" he asked with a little scoff, but he didn't sound all that surprised. Most broads had more going on than met the eye, and it wouldn't shock him overly much if she had some great hidden talent for fixing things. He folded his arms over his bare chest, tilted his head to the side. "Be my guest, it don't belong to me."
She lifted a flap in the bottom and it was quite obvious that this wasn't the first time this had happened, there was a small screwdriver that laid in the casing (which she wouldn't need) and a set of matches, which would come in handy. "Yeah, well, for a brief moment in time I was a first year Industrial Electrician." She sighed a little and let out a small huff as she reached down, feeling for anything that might be loose-- aha! She grabbed at the few hanging wires and felt the ends; they had been stripped but were no longer capped. She wouldn't need the matches either, not that she figured out what was wrong. Three wires, one was taped at the end, she it wasn't being used, the other two had frayed pieces of copper that she twisted back into place, and after putting both pieces together and twisting them back in place as well she reached back in to find the wire connector cap. Once she had found it, she twisted it on and closed the flap, pushing herself up off of her knees and placing a hand on the mummy. "Should be fixed. The sensor's wires had been unwired, the cap fell off." She shrugged a little and then, another smile. She forgot how much she enjoyed fixing things.
He watched while feigning boredom, not an easy feat when the cute girl in front of you was fixing an electrical problem with her bare hands and a bit of ingenuity. It made him raise the skin where there would've been eyebrows if he didn't shave them off, and his head cocked like a dog figuring out a math problem. "Serious, you fixed it just now?" he asked, unable to keep that slight bit of surprise out of his tone. "That's pretty badass. You don't look like an electrician, is this like that chick in Flashdance being a welder?"
She nodded a little with a small 'mmhmm', "Yeah, it should be good to go, might not hold up forever, but it'll be fine for at least a few weeks." Fact was, as soon as it was bumped in to it had the capability of popping off again, how many bumps would it take? That was the question. "I am pretty badass, aren't I?" She smirked and a small laugh escaped her lips and then her face scrunched a little as she continued, "I don't know about the Flashdance similarity though, I haven't seen it."
"Chick flick," he said dismissively, shrugged broad shoulders. "You aren't what I'd expect, that's for sure." He began to walk without further ado, heading deeper into the bowels of the haunted house. In the attraction there was a hidden door built into a wall, and inside they stored props, costumes and other such things. Inside was a soft pallet of blankets and a mini-fridge, a drum kit, and a few other personal odds and ends. He switched on the light, which was dim enough not to hurt his eyes but bright enough that she'd be comfortable, and dropped down on the bedding Indian-style.
She followed behind him instinctively, not missing a beat. 'What did you expect?" She said, more than just a little curious to the answer. Her eyes appreciated the increase in light, though again she worried for his. She looked around, still standing and smiled at the sight of his home. A drum kit, her eyes lit up and she quickly went and sat next to him, hiding her excitement. guitar and drums were her favorite, though she played about fourteen different instruments, at least, that she had attempted that is. She looked at him, waiting for the answer.
"I don't know," he muttered. "A dumb blonde with a nice ass. You seem sweet and all, but there isn't a lot of edge to you. I'm used to rougher chicks. Little angels don't tend to keep their halos long around me." He turned his head away; she was really warm next to him and her presence made him slightly uneasy. Did she want to fuck, dressed like that? She'd never done it before and he wasn't sure what to do.
"I'm far from dumb but I do have a great ass." Did she? She hadn't actually noticed but sure appreciated his sentiment on the subject of her heiny. "Who said I was an angel, and how do you know I don't have any edge? I'll have you know, my being a virgin has nothing to do with the way I think." She wasn't a virgin by choice; she was a virgin by design, by default. She didn't know if she wanted to have sex with him or not, but she liked his company and the way she felt around him. Did that mean she had to fuck him, or he wouldn't want to hang out with her anymore? "I like heavy metal, I've been too more concerts than I can count, crowd surfing is like... flying. I eat like a pig and while I only just learned how to drink while here at the carnival, I hear I do it well." She raised her head a little, as if to say 'take that!' and couldn't keep the smirk off her face, totally negating the 'take that' gesture all together.
"Because you just seem innocent as fuck," he said with a shrug. "I don't know. Sorry." He knew that he didn't like being judged off the bat, although it was sort of inevitable given his appearance, and he was a little abashed that he'd tried to do it to this girl who he really didn't even know. Granted, he tended to lump all women into the categories of 'fuck her' or 'non-fuckable', but that was a whole nother matter entirely. "How's stripping going?"
Her jaw dropped a little and she reached over to give him a little shove. "Stripping is my life." She laughed a little and shook her head along with it, "Well, I'm innocent in a lot of ways but it's just because of how I was raised and I guess I never chose to do anything about it when I left home. It was really hard, and I haven't had too many opportunities to just, be me." Her face changed from the silly expression she once had to a more relaxed and inquisitive one. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, go for it," he said, flopping onto his back and uncrossing those long legs, folding his hands beneath his head as a makeshift pillow to elevate him enough to see her if he wanted to. His chest rose and fell with his breaths; warm, alive, definitely not undead like so many of the things here despite what his tattoos wanted to make it look like.
She turned a little, her knees just inches from the side of his ribcage, still sitting cross legged. "Were you born with your tattoos, or did they appear?" Her hand, gliding across her own forearm as she felt the skin, untouched, unmarked. Her head cocked slightly as she watched him, he really was beautiful. She wondered if he knew it.
"I sat in a tattoo shop and got them done," he said, furrowing his forehead a little and wrinkling his nose. "You serious? You think I was born like this? My mom was a fucking flake, she probably would've drowned me or something."
"I just, I didn't know." Her lips pursed a little at the thought of offending him. "I didn't mean anything by it." Her hands fumbled a little and grabbed at the bottom of her jeans, fiddling with the hemline. She felt bad; to think of your mother that way had to take a lot... a lot of hurt and pain and built up resentment. "I think they're beautiful, if it matters."
He was about to say something else but closed his mouth, hesitated. "Yeah? Why?" he asked honestly, a little surprised. He got a lot of comments about his ink, and even a few girls who fucked him to get back at their daddies, but no one called his work 'beautiful'. It was grotesque and intricate, the kind of thing that people usually regretted after the novelty wore off. Not him, though.
"They're perfect, I can tell that a lot of thought and care went in to creating them and they make you incredibly unique." She also hesitated a moment, she looked to his face, his cheekbones, his eyes, everything was accented perfectly and the tattoo's seemed to bring out his features that much more. "I can see the green in your eyes, the curves of your jawline and the heart you have in the pieces you wear. How can it be anything but beautiful?"
He stared at her with his bleary eyes for a few beats, unsure if she was fucking with him or not; girls never said these kinds of things in sincerity, and he doubted she would've said them unprovoked or without some kind of agenda. It made him a little uneasy, to be honest, because he had no idea how to respond. "Oh. Thanks," he finally decided to mutter, flushing a little and turning his head.
"No needed" she quickly replied, she felt a little uneasy about it herself. Here was this man, huge in every aspect of the word, she was sure, lying on the floor in front of her; in a haunted house, and she was telling him that he was beautiful? She felt like an idiot, she always spoke without thinking first, reacted without much thought. She cringed and adjusted her body, her knees now brought to her chest as she held them with her arms, relaxing just at the wrists where her hands had clasped together to hold herself together with ease. She wasn't sure what else to say, now that she seemed to have made it a little awkward.
The silence stretched for a few minutes and then he said in that quiet, purring voice, "So what were you like back home?" He didn't talk about his own home life much, though it wasn't like his mother was abusive or his home anything but normal. Sure his dad had bailed but whose hadn't these days? It was just a small town, too small for someone like him he felt. Too cramped. Too conservative.
Her eyebrows rose a bit at the question and she tried to think of how to explain it. She shifted her body once again, this time lying down with him, on her side facing her body toward his but with about a foot and a half of space between them. Her head propping up on her hand. "I guess it was normal?" She shrugged and sighed a little, her gaze shifting from him to the place on the bedding that her fingers were currently circling about. "My family isn't like me, they're dark haired and tan easily, they have girth and don't know how to take a joke. They don't like playing games or playful banter. I don't really think they even liked me..." She said softly at the end, though she felt it was true. "We lived in a really small town and so someone like me stuck out like a sore thumb, I was teased and in order to fit in I had to dumb down and act the part. I left as soon as I could." It was much worse that she lead on, but who was she to complain? Her eyes grew sad and without her knowledge and probably unknowingly to him as well, what with his sight and all, her eyes turned from a light pale blue to a vibrant green. "What about you?" She hesitated to ask, but did anyway.
"So you really were adopted, or were you just the black sheep?" he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and turning his head slowly to study her profile in silhouette. "My mom was some groupie stoner chick back in the 70s and 80s... I don't know what her deal is. She's a waitress now. We kind of went our own ways when I hit puberty," he snickered. "I mean I still slept there but whatever. I quit being her son a long time before that."
She shrugged again "I really don't know, I always felt like I was adopted and they always denied it, so I guess that would make me a black sheep, yeah?" She saw him, saw him watching her and so she continued to stare down, her fingers wriggling and prancing around the fabric, bunching it and then smoothing it back down. "So, when was the last time you saw her?" She had to look at him now, she was very interested. She hadn't seen her own family since she was 18. She would send them random post cards every now and again, with a few pictures of herself but never with anything distinctive in the background. She knew they would try to find her and she didn't want that. She was miserable there and though she had been equally as miserable on the road; alone, at least she was free.
"Ain't seen her since I was about... eh, probably two years ago, when she came to post my bail," he said with a shrug, not lifting his shoulders from the blankets he was nestled on. "She puts on this big show for the cops like she's heartbroken, but she definitely wasn't. Soon as I was out she told me to pack my shit and get lost."
"I'm sorry..." She mustered, quietly and as sincerely as she was able. The thought of just, throwing him away... throwing anyone away, especially your own child. She couldn't imagine. She had a lot of things happen to her in her life and as much as she felt like her parents didn't like her, they never showed it in action. "How old were you when you got your first tattoo, and which one was it?"
"First one at fifteen, and it was this one," he said, touching the biohazard symbol on his chest, dead-center. "Kept going after that. My friend Lee was an artist, you know, a lot of graffiti and shit, and he wanted to learn to do tattoos. I didn't give a shit, so I let him go for it."
"Did he do all of them?" Her eyebrows rose again and she leaned forward just the slightest, her neck stretching so that she could get a closer look without moving her body. "He does great work, I'd always wanted a tattoo, even had two drawn up at one point but, I had to leave that town fast, wasn't able to get them done."
"He's done most of them. He died," he said quietly, without much remorse in his voice; he sounded more matter-of-fact than sad. "Then his brother Rick picked up where Lee left off." He ran his hand over his stomach. "There's an artist here on the grounds, working here."
She nodded "Yeah, I saw that..." her bottom lip slipped into her mouth ever so slightly and she bit on to it for a few seconds.”What's your favorite thing to eat? I mean, if you could pick anything in the world, and entire meal, and have it made just for you... what would it be?" She smiled a little, pulling back and not staring so hard at his stomach anymore.
"Anything in the world? Uh. Really rare steak. Like the rarer the better," he said, furrowing his forehead again. "I hate vegetables and shit... not much of a sweet tooth either. But I never turn down a good steak, or a burger if they'll leave it red."
"Yeah, steak is good. I haven't eaten it that rare, but I like my meat pink. I don't eat meat often but when I do, it's usually steak or ham." She stopped for a moment, wondering what a raw burger would taste like. Probably really iron-y. "So, you mean you wouldn't even attempt to cook the burger, just throw some ground beef together with some egg and bread crumbs, slap it on a bun and give it to you? You're a dream!" She laughed, how easy would that be, cooking him meals without having to cook them at all.
"No, I mean, I like it hot... if it's cold it's fucking gross," he said with a shake of his head, and then he looked at her more curiously. "Why're you askin' anyway? Are you cooking me dinner?" he asked sarcastically, snickering at the idea and leaning his head back.
"Would you let me cook you dinner?" She posed, this time not taking her eyes off him.
He turned his head slowly, his palms cradling the back of his smooth skull. "If you want to feed me? Sure. If you're trying to hit on me?"
She smiled pretty big at the idea, she didn't think she was hitting on him, then again, she'd never really hit on anyone so, maybe she was. "No, I just like to cook, I was actually thinking of asking for a job replacement, instead of working in the burlesque tent." She shied away a little "I just, don't want to ruffle any feathers so I haven't asked yet. Arkady seems nice enough but, I don't want to have to leave here by insulting someone. You know?"
"I don't think he's that type," he said with a headshake, scrunched up his nose. "Just tell him you want out. What's wrong, you're over shaking your tits for tips?" He arched his brows dryly. "I would've thought you girls make a boatload of cash in there."
"I'm not here for the money and I don't mind it all that much, to be honest, it's fun and a great workout, I just feel like I'm wasting my talents there." She retreated a little, she felt stupid, he was right... what was she complaining about? She had a job, she was really good at it and she had a place to stay and call home. "You're right though, I really shouldn’t complain."
"It ain't complaining, if you're unhappy with your little spot in life then you're unhappy with it. What do you want me to say?" he asked, tipping his head back and baring his inked throat. "I like what I'm doing, so I don't wanna move. If you don't, ask for a transfer. I'm sure they'll set something up."
She shrugged a little; she hadn't really expected him to say anything. "I don't know, I'm just finding my way around this place and figuring it out. I've just been thinking about moving, that's all." She played with her lips again, rolling a little to the side so that she was now laying on her stomach her feet in the air and crossed just above her butt. Her folded her arms on the blankets in front of her and laid her chin upon them, maybe she was too sensitive. She hadn't really thought about it before, then again, a place like this could probably make anyone feel that way from time to time.
"Don't they have the big scary bouncers in there to keep you safe?" he asked in a slightly mocking tone, but his expression was earnest enough through the tattoos. "Surely you're not worried about some lame-ass dudes with boners trying to grab on you. I'd kick their ass anyway."
She looked at him, and though she was happy on the inside that he'd stated he'd come to her defense, her face didn't show it, instead, yes, she was worried about it. It'd happened often enough in the past and already twice since she'd been at the carnival. Can't stop everyone from being everywhere. She had to walk home sometime. "They don't walk me home..." She shook her head, not sure he really wanted her to get into it, or that she wanted too. It was a huge reason she was who she was. "Anyway, thanks, and they're not nearly scary as you." She attempted to joke, flashing a fake smile.
"So what, you need someone to walk you home? I bet one of them would if you asked," he said casually. "There's all kinds of people around here who can kick some stupid-guy ass. You shouldn't be all shy and shit if you think you're seriously in danger. Although honestly, if you're that freaked out about a guy touching you I'm not sure why you think I'm a safe bet."
She looked at him for a moment and pushed up so that she was sitting on her knees. "I don't need anyone to take care of me, I've done it well enough on my own for six years. I can handle it." She looked away, bringing down her voice, which had been more intense just then than it had been in a long time. She took a deep breath and continued. "Just because I can take care of myself doesn't mean I should have to always worry about it, and I didn't say I was worried, you assumed." She looked down at her knees, her fingers scratching at the denim. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to lash out."
"First rule of having a spine is not saying you're sorry for standing up for yourself," he told her, smirking a little and relaxing into the pillow of his hands. "I was just saying that you could find a lot tamer guys here, ones who probably don't think about what you're like in bed. Lots of fags around here."
She smirked back, thankful for the humor. "I get that, and it's not entirely about that. It's not just marks you know, people that work here assume that because I shake my ass for a living now, that that's who I am all the time. I've been invited to hang out with a few people and their requests always sound something like 'come on over and don't bring your pants' or they ask me how I like it." She sat back down again, in the first position she had started in, Indian-style right next to him. "And I'm not sorry... fuck you." She smirked and laughed just a little.
"Well, that was definitely the angle I was working too, but you were kind of being a bitch," he said with a shake of his head and a faint grin. "You went all cold-fish on me when I implied sticking it to you. I didn't push it because there's plenty of cute girls here, I'm not hurting. But none of them have come over to play yet."
Her eyes widened, and there it was. She was just another cute girl that he wanted to bone, what an asshole. "I wasn't being a bitch; I just wasn't being a slut. I wouldn't sleep with someone I didn't know; I didn't mean to offend you. I know you're not hurting, girls talk, especially in the burlesque tent. I know you could get it pretty much whenever you wanted." She watched him, she didn't want to say anything else, she didn't want to come across as an even bigger bitch, and she didn't want to fight. "If you are expecting someone to come play, I can go." She said, motioning with her head toward the door. Who was she to cramp his style?
"You're not offending me, Jesus. I just said I want to bone you, why are you apologizing?" he asked in an edged voice, his eyes peering at her in the dim light. "I don't get you, Sam. Seriously. I'm sitting here talking to you. I haven't taken my goddamned jeans off yet. So relax. I ain't going to bite you."
"I'm sorry..." She stopped, shaking her head; she did it again didn't she? Shit. "I mean, okay. I just don't want to be cramping your style if you're expecting someone else over, that's all I meant. You mentioned that they hadn't come over to play yet, and to me 'yet' insinuated that eventually they will." She slumped a little, hunching her back. "I know you won't bite me." She did feel safe, it was weird.
"No one is on their way. Eventually, sure. Not right now," he said with a roll of his eyes as he relaxed back into the sheets. "So you're cherry. Hm. Ever had a boyfriend?" he asked, arching his brows at her curiously.
She licked just the corner of her mouth as she shook her head "No." It was all she could say. She wondered what it was like, to be that relaxed with sex. So relaxed that complete strangers were welcome to stay with you whenever they pretty much wanted. To her, intimacy was a big deal, or at least, she thought it would be.
"Never? What about dates, shit like that?" he asked, fumbling in the covers until he found his softpack of Marlboros, opening them and pulling out a cigarette and a book of matches. He struck one alight, took a drag off his cigarette. "Why? You're hot."
She shook her head no again. "No, my parents were pretty strict and very religious, so, I wasn't allowed to date until I was 16 and by then everyone made up their minds about me and what I was." It was sort of hard to talk about but she was putting on a brave face. "I haven't had the opportunities really, never stuck around anywhere long enough to meet anyone. When I did get attention from a man, it was always negative." She shrugged her shoulders about it, not really sure what else to say. "Oh, and thanks... I don't know that I'm 'hot' but, thank you."
"And what were you?" he asked curiously, rising up on one elbow, exhaling smoke into the air to form a diaphanous gray cloud above their heads. "When the other kids decided you were different, what did they think you were? What'd they say?"
She looked down again at her fidgeting hands. "Witch, harlot, skank, whore... devil." She said softly, she could still hear it too. Her parents asked her time and time again if she wanted to be homeschooled but she knew it wouldn't matter and she wanted an education. It's why she had to try to blend in and pretend she wasn't different when she clearly was. "I've had grown women accuse me of things I've never done, peers call me a 'fuckin tease' because of the way clothes fit my body, my talents made me a witch, a devil." She hated her life back then.
"And now you're here, and you're not a witch-bitch-slut-whore anymore," he said with a smirk. "You're a brujah, for sure, but not a real witch. You have to learn to harness that hate and fear that people direct at you. Catch it in your hands and throw it right back in their face."
She watched him, he was sweet and not nearly as intimidating as he lead on, or, maybe he was - but not with her. He had a funny way of getting to the point, but the intention there; was kind. "Why are you so great?" She stammered out, "I mean, you say all the right things and you're just; nice." She had heard he could be brutal and crude and he hadn't really been that way with her. Maybe he was put off by her, did she make him uncomfortable?
"I'm not great, you're just delusional," he muttered, tapping ash from his cigarette and closing his eyes for a moment. "There's a reason I don't have a lot of friends, man. I'm not this fluffy, cuddly fuckin' person. Don't build me up in your head or whatever to where I'm a nice guy. You'll be severely fuckin' disappointed when reality knocks."
He took another long drag, exhaled smoke.
She shrugged her shoulders coyly and smirked, "We'll see," and with that she moved back around so that she was laying flat on her stomach, this time her toes were hanging every so slightly off the bed, her uppper body propped up on her elbows which were aligned with his chest, so she could see his face a little better. "I think there comes a time in life where everyone has to be disappointing, and it's something I am personally quite used too." Her lips pursed a little in thought before continuing "Besides, It's not like I'm going to fall in love with you and expect the world, you know?" She flashed him a cheesy grin, her eyes slightly closed.
It seemed like he was pretty self conscience and as a defense mechanism he was going to push her away if she was too nice, maybe humor was more fitting for this conversation.
"Kinda selling yourself short, aren't you?" he asked, pursing his own tattooed lips for a moment before he shook his head. "You know, not like I'm a goddamn life coach or something, but you really need to figure out which way's up and go that way. You're here now and people obviously wanted you here or they would've said no, you couldn't join up. So why not just get comfortable and stay awhile, and stop considering yourself a failure or whatever?"
She tilted her head toward him rather than away, and furrowed her brows a touch "I'm not sure I understand what you mean..." She was a little confused at the statement, when had she sold her self short? She hadn't even realized she had, furthermore; why was he talking about her leaving and having to go 'up'? "What do you mean by go up? And does it look like I'm leaving Tats?"
"Tats? Really? Do I call you Toots?" he asked, arching his brow-ridge at her and shaking his head. "You said you're used to being disappointed." He folded his arms. "It's a losing game, babe. Don't allow people to disappoint you."
She laughed a little, she should have expected as much. "Well, what would you have me call you, if not Tats?" She reitereated the eyebrow raise, partly mocking him, shaking her head too. "You said you'd disappoint me, I was trying to explain that you won't, and if you did, I just meant to say that it would be okay, and that it's happened before."
"My name's Charlie but I don't like it that much," he said with a shrug. "I guess just whatever. I mean, I know when you're fuckin' talkin' to me or not." He looked over at her with a little roll of his shoulders and forced a tiny smirk. "So don't let me disappoint you, princess."
She watched him for a moment, probably more intimately than he'd ever really been watched. Studied his face, the corners of his mouth and the way it curved just the slightest when he smirked. Her voice softened and shook her head "I won't." She watched him a little more and a smile crept upon her face, "Tats it is." Her nose scrunched in the cutest way.
"You're not calling me Tats, bitch," he said, pointing a finger at her, but he wasn't entirely serious. "Seriously. That's demeaning, I don't call you Tits. Tits for Tats," he snickered, shaking his head.
She laughed as well, pointing a finger right back him, "You can't call me tits, I don't have any... you on the other hand..." her finger swirled in the air just above his stomach, pointing to all of the different tatttoos. She didn't think it was demeaning and she certainly hadn't meant it that way. She thought they were beautiful. She wouldn't use it anymore though, since if offended him. "I won't call you Tat's anymore though, from now on, you'll be my Onion." She smiled at him, her onion. Daawww. "Get it?"
"...If you're making a fucking Shrek reference we're done here," he told her solemnly, scrunching up his black-tattooed nose, rolling those eyes in the dim lighting. "Sugar, listen. I'm not gonna answer to any of that cutesy shit. Just say what you mean." He smirked, then leaned over and trailed his finger up her forearm.
She thought for a moment, how clever, she hadn't even thought of Shrek. "Actually, I hadn't thought of Shrek. I was talking about how if you work with an Onion properly, it won't make you cry... but hey, no more cutesy shit, I promise." She looked to his hand and swallowed a little, he really was sweet. Not at all like he had seemed to want people to view him, she wondered if he'd been hurt before.
He relaxed back into the blankets, closing his darkened eyes for a moment. "So if you end up just aching to get laid, you come and find me, and I'll be nice to you," he told her lazily, a grin on his lips. He had a pretty smile, very serene and lovely on his ghoulish face. "What gets you going?"
She was caught off guard and wasn't sure what to say. How was she to knwo waht got her going, if she'd never gotten there before? "I, I don't know." She said a little perturbed. "I mean, I wouldn't know." Coyly she smirked at him "but I'll be sure to let you know." She wondered if he really would be nice to her.
"What? Like, you don't touch yourself?" he asked, rolling over to see her better, disbelief on his inked face. "Seriously? You don't make yourself feel good when you're by yourself?"
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head and had she been chewing on anything at that particular moment in time, she would have certainly choked. To death. "Uh, no." Her head shook. "I was taught that it was something that wasn't to be done, and while I don't practice the faith anymore, I guess it just never crossed my mind as something I could do, you know?"
"You should try it tonight and let me know how it goes," he said mischievously, a hint of a grin on his lips. "I want a full play by play when you figure out how it goes." He smiled wider, flashing his teeth.
She laughed a little and rolled to her side, facing him. "Maybe, if I do it, I might just keep it aaallllll to myself." She joked, knowing full well she wouldn't be doing that any time soon, if ever. She didn't know how and was, to be honest, a little worried about how awkward it might make her feel. Plus, she hated her body.
He shook his head, closing his eyes. "You're insane. Seriously, it's one of the best things in the world, take my word for it. Freaking best thing next to having someone to participate with you."
She smiled at him, thought he couldn't see, and just watched for a moment before replying. "okay."
Tobias, Sioux, Riley, Angel, Anastasia, Arkady, It, Charlie 9:44 pm He left his hands laced across his belly and smiled at the ceiling without bothering to open his eyes. "Who's your favorite band?"
"Tupelo Honey, with out a doubt. Yours?" Her chin rested on her hands which rested on the bed.
"Misfits," he murmured without turning his head even a little. "Your turn."
"What's your favorite color, remembering that black, white and grey are tecnnically shades." She smirked.
"Dark blue," he said after a beat. "I fucking hate red though. It's like my least favorite color."
"why's that?"
"I dunno, I just seriously dislike it," he said with a shrug. "Always have. Where do you most wanna see?"
Her lips scrunched to the side as she thought, that was a great question. "Oh, that's hard, I've never left the states, so if I could go anywhere I think my first trip would be somewhere like Bali or Bora Bora." She flipped over onto her back and put her hands behind her head, bending her knees, her feet still touching the bed while her knees did not. "Favorite movie?"
"This place's supposed to go everywhere," he said absently. "Must be some great places out here, right? Places we haven't fuckin' dreamt of." He killed his cigarette, left it in the ashtray beside him. "I don't watch a lot of movies. I like Natural Born Killers though."
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm excited, I have wanted to travel but always was too nervous to do it, I feel safe here though." She looked to him, wondering if he caught it, and then looked away just as quick. "Good movie."
"Who else here do you like, besides me?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Can't be just me, you're the kind of little fluffbunny that goes around talking to strangers. I can tell."
She laughed a quiet laugh while shaking her head, looking at the ceiling. "I've met my roommate, I don't know her all that well though. I have met some co-workers but none well enough to call them my bee-eff-eff's and I have met a few others but it was all so random and for just moments in time. Did you just call me a fluffbunny?" Her eyebrows raised and she turned her head to him, an odd and puzzled look on her face.