francisco javier es una (pesadilla) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-04-05 16:22:00 |
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Jade I’m downstairs! Angie couldn’t help but giggle as she sent the text message, giving a quick look up to see if the cabbie cared (he didn’t) before tucking the device back into her purse. It was still a bit before she expected Lin to fling open the taxi door and she spared herself a moment to crack open her mirror. Makeup in place, hair pulled up to tumble down her back just so, little black dress in place and dancing (or twirling) shoes on, she was ready for a night on the town. To say she was excited to go out was an understatement. Work had been especially brutal that week, meeting after meeting after long email chains into the night that were only repeated the next day. A distraction was definitely in order and she was more than pleased when Lin insisted go. The conversation itself was enough to lift her mood, dancing would shoot it right through the roof. And that wasn’t even beginning to touch her curiosity at his run-ins with Russ. The world kept getting smaller and smaller and she hadn’t expected the two to know each other. Now she really needed to hear all the details. Lin glanced at his phone as it buzzed, humming on the ceramic of the bathroom sink. Camille. He grinned at the message and finished running his fingers through his hair - you know, to get it looking appropriately messy. There was no matching black dress here tonight, despite the earlier comment about Sky Dancers. Instead, the boy had opted for his usual semi-disheveled, yet somehow-polished look - his t-shirt was that thin, beachy-looking cotton that was comfortable as fuck, this time in a shade of toothpaste mint that contrasted nicely with his skin, thank you. He had on tight fitting, dark gray slacks paired with honey leather brogues, and he was lookin’ just fine, a’ight? (Not that he ever looked any other way, lbr.) It had been more than a little while since the boy had actually gone out to a club - Tao with Blake and Aubrey aside, lol - and, honestly, he needed it. It was the weekend, after all, and he was almost - almost - bored of sitting at home. To be quite honest, he’d been doing a lot less video game playing lately and a lot more of that annoying ‘thinking’ thing that plagued humanity so, and, if anything, Lin was ready to be done with that. He wanted to be mindless. Dancing and getting his drink on was just what the doctor ordered. The fact that Angie had actually agreed to go was a great big perk. He liked her. She was maybe a little quiet at first, but she was goofy, definitely geeky, and, much like Lin himself, cute as fuck. What was there not to like? The only thing he could think of was that there was a possibility that she couldn’t dance. But he would wait to see to update that list. Keys in hand and wallet and phone in his pockets, Lin ran out of the condo, taking the stairs two at a time. He pushed himself off the wall and down the last five steps, spilling out into the night time heat a little out of breath. He opened the door to the taxi that he hoped was theirs and slid into the backseat. (Oh, good - it was the right one. Score for Lin.) “Did you bring the hot dogs?” Breathing a little heavily, he grinned over at his companion, taking in her dress and her hair and everything in the blink of an eye. “You’re never going to let me live it down!” As indignant as she tried to sound she couldn’t keep the laughter her from her voice as she slid across the seats to make room for Lin. “And I didn’t even fall on him. Not really. Like, just a little bit but we both maintained upright positions!” She gestured for the cabbie, indicating for Lin to tell the man where to go before she leaned back against the seat cushioned. “You had more interaction than I did, I think.” Not that she really knew the details of that night. “And how does one go from ‘breaking up a uber masculine” out came the finger quotes, “fight in a back alley - super sketchy sounding by the way - to being a poetry manager, whatever that is.” Lin did his job and named the joint, leaning forward in the seat to speak in a low voice to the cabbie, a squat, rather nondescript sort of man who went so far as to wear a newsboy cap in Vegas. (Cool.) Then, he was back, spine resting against the cushion of the backseat. He folded his arms over his chest and glanced over at Angie, eyes following the curl of her fingers as she placed air quotes around “übermasculine.” His lips stretched into another smile and he heaved a short shrug. The car stuttered forward. “If you actually fell off a table and remained standing, I need to know your secret, because, damn. As for myself and Russell or Russand or whatever Russ is short for, it was super sketch. I was actually his poetry manager before breaking up the fight. I think. ...I don’t really remember. But, hey, don’t ask me. I was just trying to do my duty as a good Samaritan. And then I got socked in the stomach and then Russ took the dude down. And then I was trying not to vom everywhere, and then I drove him home. Simple as that.” There was a beat and the sound of the road as it passed underneath the carriage of the cab. Lin’s eyes narrowed on Angie. “What were you doing on a table?” Angie merely shrugged before turning her gaze from the road to peer over at him. "The secret is really not being too drunk." Well, thinking about the state she was in that night, it wasn't exactly the truth. "And finding someone very... sturdy," yes that was the proper adjective for Russ, said with an oh so serious look, completely ignoring the soft lift of her lips, "to land on and keep you both upright." But poetry... Angie shook her hand, not quite following how that even came to play in the first place amidst the grunting and punching. "But hey at least he helped you out. That's very sweet of him." Sweet. Not exactly the word she would've have chosen before but one that stuck after that little story. Her thoughts immediately turned, as did her face, once Lin turned the twenty questions game to her. "...Dancing?" A beat. "It was Mardis Gras. It was a perfectly okay decision to make at the time." ‘Sweet’ wasn’t the word Lin would’ve chosen for Russ either, and his expression, one of pure, unimpressed skepticism said as much to Angie, even as the word left her mouth. He shook his head at her, as solemnly as he could. “Did I mention I drove him home? Because that shit is sweet. I am a kind-hearted motherfucker. That shit is way sweeter than him continuing to take down a dude he was already taking down when the dude tried to take me down, k?” Lin was firm on that fact and he held up a hand, palm facing the girl next to him, just in case she tried to argue about it. Honestly, as much as he appreciated Russ having finished off Captain Falcon and not being hit again, it wasn’t exactly a selfless gesture. Even Lin could recognize that. “...Wait. You were dancing on a table around Mardis Gras and landed on him? What the fuck. How is Vegas like, the size of the town I grew up in. Everyone fucking knows everyone.” The boy shook his head, only pausing to peer out the window for half a second to make sure they were going the right way. Neon lights whipped past in trails of color. They were maybe five minutes out. “And you’re also very sweet,” she conceded, sliding over the backseat to bump a bare shoulder against him. She made a soft, surprised little face as her friend insisted it was better than Russ’ exploits. “Continuing to take down Captain Falcon? No, that’s not impressive at all,” she sighed under her breath, smile belying the oh so serious furrow of her brow. Of course this did nothing to give light as to why he and the man were fighting in the first place but she wasn’t about to give Lin all the cards so easily. She was laughing by the time the cabbie slowed to a stop, the sounds of the club a dull roar while the windows and doors were still closed. “The world is smaller than you think!” One hand gently nudged him toward the door to help them tumble out, the other quickly paid the man before following her friend. “And it wasn’t like I was expecting to talk to him ever again. You know. Just. Thank him for being breaking my landing. Buy him a beer. Go on our merry way. No one actually meets strangers on in person and then online. That’s just nonsense. I mean did you expect to meet him again?” The palm pushed Lin out the door and onto the street, back in the warmth of the night. He smoothed the front of his shirt with his palms and joined the short queue in front of the door of the place as music spilled out the glass doors and shook the cement under their feet. He leaned against the side of the building. It wasn’t swanky and the wait wasn’t long, so he knew they’d be inside in a few minutes. Until then he intended on taking full advantage of how nice the night was. Light polluted the black of the sky, or else, he was sure, stars would freckle the expanse that stretched above them. As it was, it looked like a washed out chalkboard. He sighed and turned his attention back to Angie as she joined him. “I’ll buy you a couple drinks to cover the fare,” he promised with a smile. Of course, Lin never did let go of a thread of conversation. He tugged it back to the forefront. “I’m not saying it wasn’t impressive, miss. I’m just saying it wasn’t what I’d call ‘sweet,’ a’ight, hater? - But that is some serious weird bullshit. This hotel does weird things though. Dude, were you around during the Halloween clusterfuck? I mean, like, what the fuck?” It wasn’t often than Lin actually thought about how fucking freaky and supernatural the hotel was, or how bizarre a fact it was that he would go through a door and become someone else, because whenever he did, it made his head hurt and made all the parts of him that loved science and biological roots really, really, really confused. The boy frowned slightly as they moved up in line. Angie shook her head, her frown momentarily dissipating as she shook her head in confusion “Not Halloween. This has been going on since Halloween?” This meaning fictional counterparts that weren’t so fictional. “I never picked up Simon before. Not since I got here. What kind of weirdness are we talking about. I mean, weirder than...” She almost whispered the Serenity but now they were standing near people, and the loud beat of the music slipping through the door, low tones weren’t really an option. “Than the ship?” The idea of something stranger than being in space made her shoot Lin and incredulous look as they moved up in the line. “But it’s not like everyone you meet is connected to the hotel, right?” ...Right? Wrong. Lin whistled lowly and shook his head at both the look of incredulity and just how much Angie had missed. It was hard to keep straight who'd been around when and for what, but the fact that she missed the whole Halloween debacle put some things into perspective. The boy scratched the back of his head as they neared the door. He fished his own ID out of his wallet, ready to flash it at the doorman, along with a pearly smile. "Let me put it this way, um, we all became one of the Seven Deadly Sins and I was a woman from like, the forties or some shit. I don't even know." Lin shrugged, confusion and concern dropping from his face as he moved in front of the doorman. ID and smile were engaged and he was waved through. Once he was rejoined by Angie, he just shrugged again, pushing the doors of the club open to the beat of music and the warmth of a lot of bodies in a small space. Unthinkingly, he took the girl by the hand and pulled her inside and through the mash of people, only releasing his grip when they drew up to the bar lit by low-hanging lights. "To be honest, like, nine out of ten people I've met in the past like, nine months I've been involved in this hotel business, have been one of us. Not even kidding." The mental image he was painting wasn’t something she was ever prepared for and warring looks of amusement and disbelief crossed her face, melting away once to flash her ID and her grin to the doorman. Moments later she plummeted into the dark club, her disorientation quickly dissipating as Lin grabbed her hand and she followed him to the bar, bumping into him only slightly as they weaved past people. “That’s... crazy.” The words came out in a stuttered sigh, a hint of a laugh on the edges. “Like nuts. I...” Her hands drummed quickly on the bartop as she tried, and failed, to come up with words, ending only with a huff. “I think I’m going to need a drink now that I know what it’s capable of.” Leaning over the bar slightly she flagged one bartender down, ordering a mojito for herself before turning to Lin. “But the people you’ve met, other than me. And Russ. They nice at least? And hopefully staying out of alleys or am I going to expect to meet other like people whenever I walk past one?” Nice. Were the people he’d met nice? Lin didn’t answer for a moment, and instead opted to order his own drink (a double shot of tequila gold, thank you). Once it, and Angie's mojito, were both finally set on the thick wood of the bar with a pair of very satisfying thunks, the boy lifted the little glass in a toast. The drinks met and Lin offered an inappropriately German Prost! before he licked the cinnamon from the crescent of skin between forefinger and thumb, dashed the shot down his throat, and bit into the too-thin slice of orange left for him by the harried bartender. It was only then, after a small shake of the head and a brief closing of the eyes, that he finally spoke again. "It was like nuts. Like, balls nuts. Not kidding," he laughed. The room was close, everyone jammed in next to one another. It was easy to see who was looking at whom in what way, which, to Lin, was always fascinating. He watched the several pairs of eyes that had landed on Angie for a moment, then looked back to her. "As for nice, ...to put it simply, - Jesus fucking Christ, are you kidding me? No. And they fucking love alleys." “Cheers,” Angie offered as she lifted her glass, a faint brow raise at the German before taking hearty pulls from her straw, sighing as she felt the first faint wave of warmth. Her laugh mirrored his, shaking her head as the ridiculous mental images - balls nuts, oh god - kept coming and making her taking more long sips of her drink. “Except for me,” she pointedly reminded him, she being nice and not in a mad love affair with an alley. She tossed him a look before the sound of her empty glass caught her attention. Setting it back on the bar she turned around, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head to the dance. “Well I’ve been meeting people dancing. Granted, it’s only one, but we’re going to pretend you’re the second. Unless you want to be fallen on but I didn’t bring proper shoes for that.” She gestured down, long legs twisting on the tips of her toes daintily before him and the onlookers – for she had noticed them too. More than a couple of people had turned to look in their direction, admiring both him and her and she would have been a liar if she said she didn’t enjoy it. “Another round or are you ready to show everyone your moves?” “Except for you, of course, as you are an alley-hating angel. Duh,” Lin agreed with a grin and a nod, looking away only to try to catch the eye of the bartender for that second round. He brushed the brown remnants of cinnamon from his hand. “And definitely another round.” When he did manage to flag the barkeep down, the boy ordered another double shot of tequila, and paused, eyebrows raised, to let Angie choose her second poison. Then, as they awaited the arrival of their drinks, he leaned against the bar on an elbow and peered out at the room, at the people and at the space between them. He felt pleasantly, thankfully empty of all the confusing emotions that generally enjoyed causing turmoil, whorling in the pit of his stomach and in the black, back reaches of his mind. There was nothing there now. Just the anticipation of dancing and of more alcohol. Lin’s shot arrived. He turned to take it up in his hand after applying the necessary cinnamon, careful not to spill, and smiled at Angie. “‘Kay, this and then we burn this fucker down, et cetera. I’ll even find you someone cute.” Round two was much the same for both of them, a quick order for another mojito that was sipped fast once in her reach. Straw still between her lips she nearly dropped her drink when he suggested wingman-ing for her. “Oh no,” she laughed, shaking her head as she set her glass back on the counter, now a good third of the way gone. “Not tonight. This is just for dancing.” Spinning around she leaned her back against the bar, scanning the room to make sure she was right on her first impressions. Amidst the crowd of girls in skimpy dresses and guys all over them, there were a few unattached people milling about, with none of them looking like they wanted anything from her other than some up close and personal time on the dance floor, or off. Ew. “I mean, you can go and go looking if you want but I’m not really seeing anyone my type. Not a lot of conversationalists, present company excluded. Definitely no dating types.” Angie’s reaction to the suggestion was... curious to Lin, and a small crease appeared between brows, though his smile didn’t drop. She almost dropped her drink. A ‘no’ was a perfectly fine response, but - he thought the lady, perhaps, did protest too much. Whatever. He took the shot. - It was only when she mentioned dating types, that he spluttered a little bit, coughing tequila into his lungs, painfully; though that was stopped up by the insertion of the watery orange slice into his mouth. He shook his head, one palm held up to Angie as he regained his ability to breathe. The boy placed the rind of the orange on the napkin by his elbow on the counter. “Wait,” he coughed again. He wasn’t mocking his friend when he finally spoke. There was only curiosity behind his words. One eyebrow quirked. “So - sorry. You caught me off guard. So you only date? Is that it?” That, in and of itself, was a strange thing in 2013, but Lin wasn’t judging. He just wanted to make sure he was getting this right. She had just reached for her drink when he coughed, concern quickly flashing across her face, only to disappear once he asked his question. “Oh! Yeah. Well…” For a moment there was a bit of embarrassment, chin ducking slightly, blonde hair spilling back over her shoulder. It wasn’t so much the question itself (well, perhaps a bit) but more the place they were having it and the environment they were in. Admitting to being a little old fashioned in the middle of a dance club? Not exactly how she usually ends up telling people. “I mean, dating is a means to an end: find that special someone, right?” Right. She nodded and took a sip of her drink, quickly, so as not to lose her train of thought. “So sure, a little,” one hand slid free of the icy glass, pinching fingers together for emphasis, “flirting isn’t so bad. Lots of fun too. But anything more than that should be going towards dating. And if they’re not really dating material, then aren’t you just wasting your time? Yours and his?” She took another long sip before the sound of the empty glass was barely heard above the music. Setting it back down with one hand she gestured with the other to the dancefloor. “So I’ll go out there and some guy will dance with me and that’s great! But nine times out of ten he’ll get a little too handsy and then he’ll try to convince me to go home with him and either I wouldn’t have ever classified him as my type to begin with, or he is but now he’s being totally skeezy. I mean maybe if I’m lucky we’ll exchange numbers and have dinner but the likelihood of that, here? Pretty low.” Lin had never been good at calculating odds. Probability was a weak spot of his and the uncertainty on his face betrayed that fact as his eyes glanced at the people around himself and Angie as they huddled near the bar. There was a dude nearby, clean-cut, very whitebread American in a starchy sort of Oxford shirt, who seemed pretty keen on the woman in the black dress. Just behind was another man whose attention was also aimed toward both Lin himself and his friend. He frowned a little, idly cleaning the excess cinnamon from his hand with a corner of the square napkin that held the orange peel. He was starting to feel the music seeping through him, washing through his body with the tequila. The bass came up through the floor and went deep into Lin’s bones -- which, as always, was quickly followed by a desire to move to its whims. Once again, he took Angie by the hand. When they were in the middle of the dance floor, he letgo and by then, he was already starting to shake it, which I do not mean literally. Lin was actually totally comfortable with - and good at - dancing. The darkness all around, the closeness of bodies, all of it - it was like having sex. If you moved in ways that felt good to you, you were probably doing it right. The song the boy didn’t know, but nor did he care that he didn’t know. He grinned at Angie and finally he spoke. “I just didn’t take you as so traditional,” he said, leaning in close so she could hear him. “Nothin’ wrong with that. Do you, girl. That just isn’t my thing.” The men trying to catch her attention didn’t get any in return. Angie only had eyes for the dancefloor, and by extension, her dance partner. When they stopped amongst the throngs of moving bodies she didn’t mind getting close. They were friends now and now she had talked about the kinds of boundaries she had, well he wasn’t going to worry about. Any lingering shyness drowned under the music and the two drinks she had. When he spoke near her ear she threw her head back and laughed, the sound barely heard above the heavy beat of dance music. “No, it’s cool. It’s no one’s thing. Believe me! I’m a weirdo.” She moved and swayed like she had spent many weekends dancing her work week away, sticking close Lin instead of bumping into the others around them. “I just want it to be special you know? After this long, it—everything has to be perfect.” The tempo kicked up one notch and she jumped along with the beat, arms raised as she danced merrily along, the dancer behind unintentionally her pushing her forward to Lin and she took the opportunity to lean in and speak. “And you? Thinking of grabbing anywhere here? Should I be bringing my wingwoman game on?” The song transitioned seamlessly into one Lin knew: La Roux, the Chrispy remix of ‘Bulletproof.’ He actually loved this song - remixed and not. It was like, his life. Sometimes. He smiled at the recognition. The tempo was slow in the beginning and the bass deep. He moved with it, and you can bet he didn’t dance like so many sad men did, their arms pinned to their sides, stiff and halting, unsure, with their feet barely picking up off the sticky floor. No. He didn’t do the other masculine option, which was grinding all up ons. Sometimes, maybe, when he was particularly drunk and having fun with someone he knew, but now, no. Lin was always painted in bright shades with no room for the gradient in-between, and dancing was no exception. Especially when he had four shots of tequila sloshing through his veins. His eyes were closed when Angie’s voice fell on his ear and he smiled instantly, popping them open. She could groove too. Not that he had ever doubted such (okay, he had questioned, but not doubted!). Smooth as butta. Except, probably, when she was tumbling off tabletops into the laps of overly muscled men with the facial hair and manners of a Viking. lol. Still good. They were close, but not touching, other than the usual brushing here and there that came with being surrounded by a mass of drunk people who stumbled over their own feet, teetering dangerously on their eight-inch heels every couple minutes. Lin’s eyebrows shot up and an obvious question appeared in his eyes. “This long? For what?” He cocked his head at her before shaking it. His expression went from intrigued to concerned. “Oh, lord, no. That’s the last thing I need. This past week I’ve had two people tell me I need to - in so many words - stop sleeping around so much.” He shrugged, completely comfortable with sharing such information. Sex was sex, right? He pretended to roll his eyes. For what? Angie blinked owlishly in the dim dance light, her steps slowing a moment as she had momentarily forgotten what it was they were discussing. Then her chin ducked, just a touch, and she was thankful the dark that hid the faint heat in her cheeks. “Oh. Um. You know.” Sex, as if her sheepish look could convey the word quietly. “I mean it’s super old fashioned. But hey that’s how it ended up and now it’s a little like a cop out to give it up now, you know?” Probably not but she shrugged and threw herself back into the movements of the beat, hoping he wasn’t going to call her crazy. “But like, that’s my deal. And yours is yours. Do you think you’re sleeping around too much?” It wasn’t at all an accusation, more a concern on his comfort. If Lin didn’t think it was a problem, why should anyone else. Before the next words - before Angie went and called her own predilections ‘old fashioned,’ Lin realized what she was talking about. Her sheepish expression didn’t so much tell him as the sudden quietness of her voice and the tilt of her head, but it helped. He managed to keep the surprise from his face, though it meant his eyes took on a rather blank look. It wasn’t his place to judge the sex other people were - or were not - having, and, honestly, he was behind whatever it was people wanted to do, most of the time, so long as consent was involved. So, yeah, okay, maybe Angie was old fashioned, moreso than her black dress conveyed, but that was cool. While Lin, who everyone always thought was just adorable and innocent, was apparently the predator. Yes, this was all very interesting. “That’s cool, bro,” he said finally with a hapless shrug timed with the music. The boy smiled again, but that immediately fled at her question. Lin bit his bottom lip and continued to dance for a minute. There was a heaviness to the pause that belied the length of the forthcoming answer. “So, you know, both before I dated Aubrey - who is my ex-boyfriend I was with for four years - and now, I’ve always - idk, slept with people. It’s whatever. It’s ranged from the usual meaningless hookups like you were referencing - the sleazy kind - to more recurring arrangements with people I consider friends, right? Like, I feel capable of liking multiple people, and also having sex with people with and without feelings being involved. But -” Lin shook his head and stopped talking. The flashing lights overhead swam a little in his vision and his hair was getting in his face. “I don’t know,” he finished lamely, pulling back from Angie’s ear. He looked at her. “I used to think no, but now I don’t know. Maybe you’re wise to hold off. This shit is confusing as balls - like, you know, nuts balls - and I’m fucking 28.” She scoffed, a disagreeable sigh escaping her lips as she rolled her eyes. “Please. At least you know where to put it.” She held the expression for a beat before a grin tugged at her mouth. “I’m kidding. At least I know that. Thanks, internet.” The song was still rolling on though she knew it was going to end soon, but she refused to let it and their conversation end on such a dour note. Not with him, talking aloud on what sounded like some pretty serious thoughts for someone four drinks deep. “Hey, it’s possible, perfectly okay to. I mean I can’t have sex – theoretically – without the feelings so it’s part of why I don’t. If you can, and that works for you, then that’s great. And if it ever stops working for you,” like it seemed now but she thought best not to push that point, “then you’ll change it up. You’ll figure it out. 28 years young, that’s nothing. And we’re here to forget this week, remember? Just for a little while.” Lin actually knew several places to put it, but he didn’t say that. He just laughed, at that thought, and at Angie’s own self-deprecation. All he did was put a fist up, as if to salute the internet and its greatness, before he got back to dancing, even as the beat of the song slowed and the volume dimmed. Four drinks deep was enough to make someone like Lin tipsy. Very tipsy. He wasn’t drunk, but he was feeling good and bubbly, even with the serious thoughts of how much was too much sex running through his head, because, inebriated or sober, his mind never shut off. It was always working on something, which was part of the reason he felt more than a little crazy most of the time. “You’re right. Fuck that. ...Figuratively.” A grin. “- Okay, come on.” Wrapping his hand around Angie’s, the boy squeezed them through the crowd, back in the direction of the bar. If it was forgetting they were going to do, then he needed more to drink. Lin smiled at his friend once they’d made it through the dense wash of bodies. “When someone drops srs knowledge on me, I buy them a shot. It’s a thing. So this is for you, then I think we’ll be good and ready to get on with that ‘forgetting’ thing.” |