Taisce Moore is a knight with a shining M4. (taisce) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-07-05 21:17:00
WHO: Taisce and O'Brien WHAT: FIREWORKS!!!! WHEN: 4th of July; Before the Zimmerman's light fireworks, after the party is in full force. WHERE: O'Brien's favorite guard tower. RATING: Low. STATUS: Complete!
Taisce had never been much of a party goer, so planning a party was almost out of character for her. But she would admit that she had a pretty good time. It wasn't often she talked music with anyone. And it wasn't like she was very social aside from O'Brien, Rae, and sometimes Ellie. She made a mental note that she should talk to Ellie more.
She carried with her a plate of random goodies from the party. She'd grabbed a little bit of everything, save for cookies as there were none there. It would be a sad day. Eventually she'd have to see about baking some specifically for O'Brien.
The sun was starting to set as she made her way up the stairs. She stopped midway to gaze at the amber-violet sky, shading her eyes with her free hand. She absolutely loved sunset, it was such a beautiful time of day.
After a moment of soaking it all in, she continued her trek up the stairs. She decided to forego knocking, and opened the door to make her way inside.
"So they didn't have any cookies. But I've got other goodies!" O’Brien wasn’t much of a partygoer, either. He never had been. Oh, sure, he’d gone to the ones back at Madison Square Garden because he didn’t have anyone to call a friend when he’d first arrived back in New York City, and he was trying to be sociable. And then there was Leah. He went to a party or two because Leah was going to be there. She didn’t like parties and neither did he. It made sense that he figured maybe they could bond over it. He got a smile or two out of her from those parties, and hey... he didn’t really regret it. Even the night she decked him.
But he was pretty much done with going to parties. All he would have done would be what he had done at every other party he’d gone to in his life: eat all the free food while being an awkward wallflower. And he wasn’t exactly trying to impress anyone anymore, so he didn’t mind giving the other guards the night off to go to the party. Really. Work was his first love. Being Sing Sing’s head of security was as close to it as he was going to get, these days, so he didn’t mind.
And yeah, he had somehow managed to talk Taisce into stopping by to maybe, possibly watch the fireworks with him, and at the very least, bring him a cookie-- or even a cupcake. Nevermind the fact that Eloise had already been her sneaky self, and left him a cupcake, some candy, and some spiked punch. Some seriously spiked punch-- that did not mix well with the Bourbon and the painkiller he’d already had for the evening.
Regardless, what he hadn’t expected was the door to just open, without anyone even knocking! Before Taisce even started to say anything, O’Brien had quickly got up from his seat, drawn his Glock, and aimed it at the person making their way into the top of the tower. Sue him. They didn’t knock. He had every right to take precaution. Taisce would have to forgive him for aiming his gun at her. “Ooookay, note to self. Knock first,” she had frozen in the doorway as soon as she saw the gun. She probably resembled a deer caught in the headlights for that moment. He wouldn’t actually shoot her would he? She wouldn’t admit it, but for a moment, she would have sworn she’d just had a heart attack.
“No shooting me! I’m on your side! I’m not undead,” she waited for him to lower his gun before she made her way the rest of the way in. “Or the Rookie.”
She raised the plate a bit, and motioned toward him. “Hungry? Or should I put this somewhere for later?” O'Brien frowned when he realized it was Taisce making her way through the door. Really! She should have knocked. And no.. he wouldn't actually shoot her-- so long as he knew it was her! But she couldn't go around sneaking up on people like that!
Lowering the gun, he rolled his eyes a bit, "yeah, yeah.. I know you're not the Rookie. Clearly. I'd much rather be stuck on a farm with no one but you, instead of the fucking Rookie. Maybe knock next time?" His brows furrowed, "Please?" He paused, hesitating a moment before nodding to her, "Sorry. I uh.." He looked around before stuffing his Glock back into it's holster. "Sorry for almost shooting you." If only Taisce knew. He had a history of drawing his weapon in stressful or uneasy situations. He'd actually been required to see a shrink because of it. Funny story, really. Sort of...
"Nah.. Maybe," he shrugged, "Yeah. I'll take a cookie or something," He should probably eat something, yeah. His head was spinning juuuust a bit. He wasn't sure if it was the Bourbon, the painkiller, the punch, or the combination of all three. He was pretty sure something was in the punch.
"Did you have any of the punch?" "I will definitely knock, or text first, or something," she nodded as she set the plate down on the desk. She then made her way back over to O'Brien, and patted him on the shoulder, smiling a bit. "I understand reaction. Really I do. Coming in unannounced was stupid, I should have been thinking. I guess my lucky side is showing through again."
She motioned to the desk. "I guess Rae didn't make any cookies. But there's some veggies and things. And cupcakes, I snagged cupcakes. They aren't half bad!"
Her brows furrowed a bit when he asked if she'd had any punch. She thought back on the course of the evening up to that point, her gaze wandering a bit as she did so. "No, I didn't. Why? Is it horrible?"
She'd spent most of the time at the party watching other people and talking to Marcus about music. She'd munched on some veggies from the table here and there, but never actually got herself a glass of punch. He nodded, "thank you.." When Taisce came over to give him that pat on the shoulder, yeah--okay, maybe she knocked him off balance a little. Maybe sitting down would be best.
Chuckling, in attempts to cover it up a bit, he turned to sit down on the desk, reaching for a cupcake, once Taisce set the plate down, "No cookies, huh?" Bringing the cupcake up to take a bite out of the top, before he started peeling the paper cup off of it, he shook his head and gave a bit of a shrug.
"Not so much that it's horrible," he began, mouth full of cupcake, "I just think," he took a moment to chew the bite of cupcake and swallow, "you know," he shrugged, "it might be drugged is all. Someone trying to roofie someone, maybe. Or the whole party.." Or maybe he was just drunk? Who knew? He hadn't talked to anyone else who'd had the punch.
He paused after a brief thought, "actually.. you know.. I thought Eloise brought me the punch and a cupcake earlier.." He looked up at Taisce, "what if it was someone else?" He narrowed his eyes, thinking as he gave a look back over toward the empty cup, "Maybe someone's trying to off me." What? it was plausible. Taisce watched as he moved to sit down, crossing her arms and choosing to stay standing for the time being. "Nope, no cookies. I'll have to owe you some." She shuffled her feet a bit, and looked down for a moment, before focusing her attention back to him.
Her eyebrows furrowed again. "Drugged?" Hm. She hadn't seen anyone near the food table that looked suspicious. But she also hadn't focused all her attention on it either. It was a party, and she was being sociable.
Her lips pursed a bit and her eyebrows retained the furrow as he looked up at her, questioning the innocence of a cupcake and punch. "Well, if Ellie told you she was bringing you some, then the assumption would be that it was her that brought it." She shifted her weight. "If the punch was spiked, it might have been before I even showed up. So she wouldn't even have known."
She shook her head, red curls brushing her shoulders as she did so. "I don't think anyone is trying to off you. I'm pretty sure it was just a prank. We do have some pranksters in our midst, after all."
Concern crossed her face now and she moved closer to the chair. "You alright?" Not knowing what was in the punch for sure was definite cause for worry. But she'd wait and judge things better depending on the way he responded to her question. He nodded, "I'll keep that in mind.. and cash it in when you least suspect it: you owe me cookies. Not just a cookie, but cookies." His eyes moved back to focus on her shuffling feet. Reaching up to push his fingers back through his hair, he lifted his attention back up to Taisce with a nod, "Yeah. Drugged. Roofied. Whatever you want to call it," dropping his hand back down to help get the paper cup off the cupcake the rest of the way, his focus went back to it.
He scrunched up his nose, "Maybe. Hopefully. And Eloise wouldn't bring me punch if she knew it was spiked." He rolled his eyes at Taisce's comment about the pranksters, "and tell me about it. They're getting on my last fucking nerve. Between them and The Rookie," He made a growling sound and shook his head. They made him GRRRR.
"And, you don't know. I'm sure there's a handful around here that'd like to see me go. Or at least see me under the influence of a date rape drug," the bastards.
He had just stuffed the rest of the cupcake into his mouth with Taisce asked if he was alright, and he cut his eyes back over toward her. Clearly he was okay. He wasn't dying or anything. At least he didn't think so. He was okay enough to chow down on a cupcake, so...
He nodded a bit, crumpling up the paper cup with one hand and pointing up with the other, and making a 'spinning' gesture around the room, "Just feel a little drunk," He continued to chew. Wait, he should rephrase that, "well.. Not drunk-- okay, maybe drunk, but fall-down drunk and dizzy. you know," finally he swallowed the rest of the cupcake, and was no longer talking to poor Taisce with his mouth full of cake of the cup variety.
"Like um.." Brows furrowed, "well, okay. It's like this, I had some Bourbon. And I took a painkiller.. I was perfectly fine, and then I drank the punch, and things just started spinning." But before Taisce could say anything, he held up his hands to be sure to keep her calm, "But... it's okay. I'm okay. It was only a little bit of punch. I think it's probably accomplished what was intended.. and everything's just peachy now." He was just going to be sure and stay sitting down. At least for the time being.
And to change the subject, yes, that was exactly what he was doing, "What about you," he gestured to her, "how are you? How was your party? Still going strong?" And as a side thought, He pointed to her, "this has nothing to do with anything, but I like your hair." There. He said it. "It looks extra fancy today. And pretty." Fancy? What the hell kind of verb was that? He didn't say fancy. Or pretty... Okay, maybe pretty.. but whatever.
Really. He needed to stop talking. He was starting to ramble and sound crazy again. "Keep in mind that I will either have to find some cookies, or make some cookies," she laughed. Granted she'd probably recruit help from someone that could actually bake. Taisce was great if it came in a box and was microwaveable. Or an MRE. MREs were easy. Actual from scratch recipes? Yeah, not so much. She would have been a terrible housewife in that regard. Mac and cheese for dinner every night? Yeah.
"I'd say just ignore them, but it's really not that easy, is it? Oh the joys of being head of security." She moved now to pull out the other chair and sit. She wasn't overly worried about him since he assured her he was, in fact, okay.
"Do they still have date rape drugs around? Wow." She thought on it a moment before nodding a bit and answering her own question. "I guess it's plausible. Harder drugs still exist after all. Though why anyone would want to be tweaking with zombies around the corner baffles me." She was certain that druggies were still around. Anything was possible.
She absentmindedly tapped her foot a bit, not audibly, but noticeably. "It was alright. I've never planned a party before. But people actually showed, so I'm happy about that," she paused. "Made another acquaintance," she was hesitant to use the word friend because Marcus and her had really only small talked. Like one normally does at a party. "When I left to come hang out, they were getting stuff ready to shoot off fireworks. So that when it's dark enough they could go right into setting them off."
Craning her head to look out the window, she added, "Which should be about a half hour or so? Maybe an hour?"
Taisce laughed at O'Brien's compliment. It was a compliment, and she knew it. "Thanks, O'Brien, but it's not extra fancy. Or at least I didn't aim for it to be that way." The laugh faded to a smile. "I like your eyes," she added, motioning toward him with a bit of a nod. O'Brien smirked a little, reaching up to rub at his arm out of a bit of a nervous habit, "cookies are always better when they're made just for you," he shrugged. That's the way he felt about it anyway.
And hey. If all Taisce ever made was Mac and cheese? o'Brien would be okay with that. He happened to love mac and cheese. In fact, it was one of the foods he missed most.
"Eh," he canted his head to the side with consideration and then gave another shrug. "For shits and giggles?" He nodded toward her, after she'd settled in the chair, "if I fall down or something, just prop me back up, and I should be good to go." His eyes eventually wandered down to her tapping foot, and then cut back up toward her, a small smile returning to his lips, "I'm sure you're great party planner, then. Getting people to show up is half of it, right?" He gestured toward her, "and hey... whatever the case, it made you happy. So... That's great."
He nodded, "another acquaintance, huh? They were nice, then?" Good. They'd better be. "And they're setting off fireworks? Really? I thought that was just a thought or something. Are they sure it's not going to attract the fucking zombies?" He shook his head, bringing a hand back up to push through his hair again. If all the fucking walkers, crawlers, droolers, and creepers in fucking Ossining migrated toward the prison after tonight's light show, he was going to be pissed.
O'Brien let his gaze follow hers to the window, "sun'll be down in about half an hour, I think." He blinked at her laugh, "What?" Her hair was pretty. "Well... fancy or not.. I still like it." He did.
"Hm," he glanced down when she mentioned that she liked his eyes. He tried not to smile. It wasn't easy. He kinda smiled anyway. Oh well. "Thanks..." He nodded, hesitating a moment before lifting them back up to find hers, "Thank you." O'Brien gave Taisce a nod, "they're my dad's." He tried to keep a straight face again-- still not working. He couldn't help but smirk. "They are," she missed her mother's baking. Her mother made the best chocolate cake Taisce had ever tasted. Alas, for Taisce, the knack for cooking and baking went to her brother and not to herself.
"Will do," she laughed. "Prop you up and resist the urge to not take pictures of it no matter how hilarious it might seem." She shot him a mischievous look before shaking her head. "I think from now on I'll leave things to Rae and Lulu." Taisce really didn't think she was party planning material. It brought her out of her comfort zone a bit more than she'd have liked.
"Yeah, we started off talking about music. Apparently I didn't strike him as the type to listen to thrash metal," Taisce pointed to herself amusedly. "Do I come across as, like, a pop princess or some shit like that?" Yes, there was some pop music she'd listen to, but it wasn't her preferred genre. Give Taisce some good classic rock, heavy metal, or some awesome oldies, and she was happy. The new age, auto tuned, crap they called pop music --before the end of the world-- was just that, crap.
She turned her attention to the window again for a moment, before looking back to O'Brien. "Hm, maybe zombies don't like patriotic displays of pyrotechnics? Fire bad sort of thing?" She drew in a breath and sighed a bit. "Could they even scale those walls out there? They are pretty damned high." Barbed wire wouldn't deter them. Dead things lacked the ability to feel pain. Basic motor function and insatiable hunger for live human flesh were the two things that drove them. It made Taisce shudder to think about.
"You're welcome," and she laughed at his failed attempt to keep a straight face. "They look like they're yours. But they were an awesome thing for him to share." And with that, her laugh continued for a moment.
Apparently she needed a good laugh today and O'Brien was the one to instigate it. Not that she was complaining. O'Brien missed his momma's baking. She made the best just about everything. In O'Brien's opinion at least.
He pointed to her with a nod, "That, yeah. Resist the urge." He smiled lightly, studying her expression a moment, "I don't know... you seemed to have done a pretty good job-- at least from what I hear. Why wouldn't you want to help out next time? All the parties could probably use your touch."
He arched a brow, "yeah?" He nodded, listening quietly a moment. "Him?" Ah-ha. Another slow, skeptical nod was given. He shrugged, motioning toward her again, "wouldn't've even guessed thrash metal, myself..." He brought his hand up to rub at his scruffy cheek, while he thought a moment, "No. No, you don't seem like a pop princess either.. Hey, don't go running off and getting all preoccupied with your music buddy, okay? I mean.. have fun, you know.. Just.. Don't forget about having a drink with me every now and then. Otherwise I'd miss you." True fact. He enjoyed her company.
He watched Taisce turn to look out the window, and waited until she looked back to give her a shake of his head, "no. They wouldn't be able to scale the walls... I think you seem like the type of girl that enjoys The Rolling Stones. Or The Who. Probably some CCR too." He shrugged.
Dropping his gaze back down, he nodded, "it was awesome of him, wasn't it?" Her silly, little, giggling sort of laugh only made him smile more and he shook his head again.
"Thank you. And thank you for bringing me the food." He looked back up at Taisce, and then toward the window. "...You going to stay for the fireworks?" “I have a touch? Hm. Okay then,” she tilted her head a bit. “Though it might help if you actually show up to a party I plan next time.” She wasn’t giving him a hard time, she understood why he was in the tower. And she really appreciated it. Workaholic as he was, she got it. She had the same mindset in a lot of things. She’d traded guard duty a couple times with a guy in her unit so that he could video chat with his girlfriend. Her reasoning was that he had someone and she didn’t at the time. So, she could sit at the top of a tower with a rifle for a night.
A quizzical look crossed her face and lingered for a moment. “What makes you think I’d forego spending time with you? That’s silly. Don’t think like that.” She enjoyed his company as well, and didn’t like the idea of him thinking any differently. Not that she could stop that.
The smirk returned at his last question. “Nope, I’m just teasing you. Brought you food and now I’m going to take my leave.” She paused for a moment --for dramatic effect-- before rolling her head and eyes around slightly. “To be honest, the party got boring. I’m not good at being more than a wallflower really. So, if you don’t mind, you’re stuck with me.” A pause. “At least for the time being." O'Brien's smile softened and he nodded, "you do." It was a nice touch. Silently scoffing, though the movements were there, he shook his head, bringing a hand back up to rub at his brow, "I'm not really... you know.. parties aren't my thing." He hesitated before pressing on, dropping his arm back down to cross over his chest with the other. He said parties weren't his thing-- but back before the apocalypse, he hadn't really minded going to them. He usually had a decent time, when he'd let himself. But often times he made excuses that he was too busy. Except where his wife had been concerned. If she had an opening night party, or an awards party, or any of those other crazy benefits that beautiful Broadway actresses got invited to, he was there. So why didn't he want to go to Taisce's party? She was pretty, and she'd asked him.
He glanced down, "I don't know. Maybe." Maybe? He was kind of a jerk sometimes. Sort of. "I might."
He lifted his eyes back up to find hers, "Don't think like what? I'm just saying, if you dig this music guy, you know," he motioned toward Taisce, "go have fun. It sounds like you had a nice conversation with him. That's a hard thing to come by, these days. All I'm saying is that I'd like it if you'd still have a drink with me every now and then."
He opened his mouth to interrupt and say something else, but that's when Taisce said that the party got boring. Even with the chit-chat from the music man? He smiled a little when she said that he was stuck with her, and he gave a bit of a nod.
Alright. Okay. He was stuck with her... "Hm." He nodded, giving a look back toward the window, thinking quietly a moment. "So..."
He drummed his fingers along the side of the desk as he held onto the edge of it, at his sides, and nodded a little as he eventually dragged his attention back to her, "was I right? About the Who, at least? Or The Stones?" She shook her head. “Too soon to tell. We really didn’t talk that long. He seems like a nice guy though,” she really wasn’t sure what she thought of Marcus. Sure, she’d given him her number, but that was more for getting-to-know-him purposes. And it never hurt to have more than one someone you could send an SOS if needs arose. And there was the whole making-friends-who-weren’t-O’Brien-or-Rae thing. Yeah.
“I don’t think I’d ever turn down the chance to have a drink with you,” she stated. And she meant it. Maybe once the Four Horsemen had a bartender again, they could meet for a drink in their off hours. If either of them decided to have off hours. Irish workaholics. Not really the nickname she wanted them to have.
Was I right? He was asking. She nodded. “Not as big on The Who. I liked ‘Who Are You?’ by them. But I prefered Limp Bizkit’s cover of ‘Behind Blue Eyes’.” A beat. “The Stones? Hell yeah. Though I’m probably going to be a cliche and run with the crowd when I say that Paint It Black is my favorite song of theirs.” No, he was glad Taisce was making more friends. Really. Friends were a good thing to have. He'd made a good handful since arriving back in New York in November. He'd probably keep those people close for the rest of his life.Or at least hold a special place in his heart for them. He had reserved spots for people like that.
O'Brien smiled at her comment, and glanced down. 'the chance'? Like it was really something all that special? Seriously. He nodded, "Alright." He lifted his eyes back up to find hers, "good. Maybe..." He shrugged, "sometime this week, then." Maybe.
He paused, "you don't even like Tommy? Quadrophenia?" Well, damn. "At least you like Mick." Smirking, O'Brien moved to sit back onto the desk better, sliding back some to get more comfy. "Can't really pick a favorite. But I've pretty much lived by You Can't Always Get What You Want.. so.." he shrugged. "Makes for a good theme song."
He was starting to feel a bit better. Less like he was going to fall down. That was good. Whatever was in that punch was a bitch. And whoever’d roofied it was a bitch too. Now he just felt like he had a mini hangover. Rubbing at his brow, he nodded, sliding over to offer her a spot to sit down-- if she wanted. “You don’t have to make any promises. We can’t spend all our free time together drinking after all,” she winked at him before standing and walking to the window to look outside. She could see movement from one of the lesser used guard towers. If her sense of direction was on par, it was the guard tower that the Zimmerman’s had set the fireworks up in. Meaning if there was movement, they were doing any last minute prep work before lighting them off.
Darkness had rolled in, the dim rainbow of sky had turned to the deep blue of night, dotted with stars. The one thing about not having as much of a population meant that there was less light pollution. And it was a clear night. Fireworks were going to look awesome.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like their stuff, they just aren’t my go to band is all.” She shrugged and turned her attention back to O’Brien again. “That’s a good song too.” She hummed a couple bars rather on the quiet side before pulling herself from the window. She made her way over to the desk and slid onto it next to him.
“Looks like fireworks are gonna be starting any time now. I don’t know if they planned a particular time but it’s dark enough.” "Who said that?" That they couldn't spend all their free time drinking? He offered a smile over to her, "and maybe I want to have a drink with you." he shrugged, "Friday night. Or.. any night. Whichever night is good for you. At the Four Horsemen."
O'Brien watched Taisce get up and step back over to the window to look out. Letting blue eyes move over her a moment, he thought quietly as he glanced down.
"You don't have to like them. I think they're pretty cool is all. Not my favorite either, though.. so.." He shrugged again. "No hard feelings."
Lifting his attention back up when she crossed back over to slide onto the desk beside him, he smiled and gave another nod before looking out the window. "They're shooting them off over the Hudson, right? We should be able to see them pretty good from here." "I think so? It'd be the safest option," she shrugged. She really didn't know what the Zimmerman boys had planned, but she'd assumed that they were planning a fun and safe show. Taisce was just happy that things were working out well that night. The party wasn't the best but wasn't the worst either. And Taisce hadn't seen a good firework show in a long time. It'd be nice.
After a moment of silence, she leaned over a bit, and elbowed him gently. "Hey, did you save me any booze? Or did you drink it all?" He nodded, keeping his attention out the window for a moment. Lacing his fingers together and resting his hands in his lap-- he really didn't know what else to do with them at the moment--O'Brien couldn't help but just awkwardly sit there.
Well, until Taisce elbowed him and it brought another smile to his lips. He shook his head, "no.. I didn't drink it all. I felt like I was going to fall over enough is it was, with the punch."
Thinking a beat, he moved to lean down, reaching across her legs for the drawer. "what'd we say? Wild Turkey? Jameson? I've got a little bit of Jameson left, if you want it. Or Jack." "How much Jameson? Is that what we had left from the last time we drank it?" She kicked her legs a bit, almost like a kid. Her heels hit the desk causing her to stop. She didn't want to be annoying.
She was avoiding thinking about the last time she was on the desk. And the awkward night that had followed afterward. Maybe drinking wasn't such a good idea.
Her Irish blood sang another, drunken, tune. Yeah. She was failing in the avoiding thinking about things tangent. It probably showed on her face. He made a confused face when Taisce started to kick her legs while he was reaching across them to dig in the drawer of booze. But whatever. Maybe she just wanted to touch him... Yeah, okay.
Grabbing up the bottle of Jameson, once Taisce stopped kicking her feet, he pushed the door closed and straightened up to hold the bottle over to her, "yep. It's all we've got left. Saved it just for you." Truth. She'd asked, he'd obliged. That, and the punch was more than enough on top of the other booze he'd had, and the painkiller.
"If I throw up on you-- it's nothing personal, okay? It's the punch." and maybe the painkiller and not a lot of food. There was the cupcake, though. Yeah. THe cupcake.
Glancing toward the window when the sky lit up just before the nice, loud boom of --what was that? the first firework? Yeah. Nice. And blue! he liked blue. "Hm," he nodded. He really, reeeally hoped the fireworks didn't attract the undead to the prison. That would suck. She took hold of the bottle of Jameson and opened it. “Make me feel special, saving the Irish whiskey for me. I was expecting to be stuck with Wild Turkey.” Which was not her favorite whiskey but it was still whiskey.
She grinned a bit, pulling the bottle to her lips. “Suuuure, blame the punch.” She hoped that he wouldn’t throw up on her. That was not a pleasant thought, and she really didn’t feel like cleaning up from that. “If you start making strange noises, don’t be surprised if I end up on the other side of the room.” She motioned toward the other side of the room as she knocked back a mouthful of whiskey before letting the bottle rest in her hand on her lap.
She perked up in her seat when the first firework went off, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Here we go!”
She hoped that the fireworks didn’t attract zombies either. She didn’t feel like damage control after a party. Especially now that she’d started drinking. O’Brien smiled, “Told you I would. One of these days... We’ll have to take a trip outside the prison walls, and go find some more. Not sure what the world will be like when there’s no more Jameson to be had.” Awful. He was pretty sure of it. Flat out awful.
“Seriously.. After drinking that punch, I don’t feel so hot..” But the plan was to not throw up on Taisce. He’d never forgive himself. How awful would that be? Throw up on a girl you thought was pretty. It’d be terrible!
He shook his head, “I’m going to try not to throw up on you.. trust me.” He shifted his weight a little, sitting up straighter and letting his focus turn to the fireworks. Taisce’s excitement amused him, though. He gave a brief and as subtle as possible glance over toward her, a small smile tugging upward on the corners of his lips before he lifted his blue eyes back up to the window to watch the fireworks. "That will be the saddest day ever," she frowned. "A day when there is no more Jameson, I don't think I want to see it."
After a moment, she turned to face him a bit more. "D'you think there's going to be a day when we can actually go outside of Sing Sing and not fear for our lives?" She paused again. "People would probably blame global warming or the president. It'd all be forgotten about. Sad."
After watching the fireworks for a couple minutes, Taisce leaned over and rested her head on O'Brien's shoulder -- well, more like his upper arm. It wasn't an awkward gesture on her part. It was comfortable. It made sitting on the desk a little more bearable.
She wanted to get lost in this moment. To forget the outside world for a while. To forget that there were zombies outside the prison walls. To feel free. "Tell me about it... I've been trying to find books on how to brew the stuff, myself. But I'm completely convinced that whatever I make will wind up tasting like shit, and only make me miss Jameson and Jack even more. We can't even go to the distillery to break in and find the secret recipe. It's in fucking Ireland or something."
He bit at his lip at her question, and sat silently for a moment. Nodding a little, he gave a small shrug, "someday. Someday. Not anytime soon." What? It was his opinion, and that's how he felt. He didn't think he'd see that day.. but maybe Luke would.
He gave another nod and looked back out at the fireworks. A brow arched when he felt Taisce lay her head against his arm, and he gave a look down toward her as best as he could without moving much. He didn't want to disturb her, okay? He didn't actually mind her head on his shoulder, if she wanted to know the truth.
Looking back to the fireworks, he smiled some and hesitated before he eventually brought his arm up around Taisce's shoulders. He even pulled her into a sideways hug. But at at the risk of being awkward, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just looked back up to watch the fireworks while he kept his arm around her. "I am not against venturing to Ireland for a secret recipe. Adventure and all that. Zombies might put a damper on that though." She paused and thought for a minute. "I wonder if Irish zombies are different than American ones. Like, are there cultural zombie differences? Do they have different mannerisms." Especially with Wakers. That thought intrigued the hell out of her.
"I hope we get that someday." A simple sentence and that's where she left it.
She didn't mind his arm around her, if he wanted to know the truth. She was more than content to stay there, with her head on his shoulder watching as colors burned the sky. She brought the bottle of Jameson up to her lips again and finished off the bottle, making an audible sigh when her mouth was clear.
"Yep, we're definitely Irish. Always drinking when we're together. Some might call it a problem. But I don't mind it." He chuckled at the thought, “I am. Completely against it. Traveling from Kansas City to New York was bad enough. I can't imagine a trip all the way to Ireland with zombies. Someday, though. When the zombies die out and things start to get back to normal." If he saw that day.
He pursed his lips with thought and canted his head to the side with consideration, "that-- is a good question. I don't know. Maybe?"
He nodded, "me too. I hope so."
Once Taisce had downed the rest of the whiskey like a pro, he glanced back from the window to reach across and offer to take the empty bottle from her to set aside.
"Irish right down to the very core." Once she gave up the bottle, he turned enough to set it down behind them on the desk. He smiled, lifting his eyes back up to her, "I like it. Not necessarily the drinking part," he shrugged, "but you know.. The together part. Your company isn't a problem either." “Okay fine. Trip to Ireland when the world isn’t overrun with zombies and public transportation is a normal thing again,” she patted his arm.
“Promise.” Yeah, she expected him to promise it. Not that it’d be a promise she’d be mad at him for breaking if something were to happen to him before things returned to “normalcy”. But as far as she was concerned, nothing was going to happen to him --or her-- and a dream trip to Ireland was something worth looking forward to. Hope, or something like that. It was nice.
He’d taken the bottle from her now, and she waited for him to turn back around before re-adjusting herself and resuming her spot leaned against him. He was cozy.
“Your company ain’t half bad either, you know. Even if you try to sell yourself short.” Yeah, O'Brien hoped that nothing happened to either of them too. He didn't know if Taisce was immune or not... at least they knew that he was. But that really didn't mean much, these days. immune or not, you could still be eaten by a swarm of the undead. Being immune just meant that if he was bitten, and managed to get away, he had a better chance of surviving-- and not turning into a zombie, himself. But he was pretty sure that his luck had run out long ago. On all accounts, he should be dead. He wasn't. He didn't want to push his luck.
He smirked, "I promise," he nodded, "When things get back to normal, we'll go to Ireland. And take over the entire Jameson company and keep the legacy alive. How's that?"
When she readjusted herself against his shoulder and arm, he readjusted his arm around her as well, hugging her close as he glanced back up toward the fireworks. It was the best damn fireworks show he'd ever seen, if you asked him. It was like the whole thing was the grand finale.
He scoffed quietly and shook his head; Sell himself short? Really? Maybe. She grinned as he agreed to her promise. And it widened when he mentioned taking over and keeping the Jameson legacy alive. “I approve,” she nodded.
As he wrapped his arm around her again, she pulled her arms up and wrapped them around him, hugging his torso now. She let out a content sigh and turned her attention to the fireworks as well. She was happy that she agreed to hang out with him. Happy that he allowed her to keep him company. He could have sent her on her way, back to the party to socialize with people that probably didn’t want her company anyway. Sure, some did, but she hadn’t done the whole “getting-to-know-everyone” thing. Staying and attempting to socialize with people you’d never socialized with before proved to be way too damned awkward nine out of ten times. So she preferred to share the pleasure of her company with people who appreciated it. Like O’Brien.
“So, what are the plans after the fireworks end? Did you have any?” "Thought you might," his smirked brightened some; Hey, it was a dream, right? A good dream, however unattainable it might actually be. But it was good to have dreams. He had always dreamt he'd be like Batman. He came pretty close as a police detective, he thought anyway. There was hope, right?
And it was silly for her to think that people at the party wouldn't want her company. If she'd said something out loud about it, he would have told her otherwise. She was friendly and had a very beautiful and welcoming smile. How could anyone resist that?
But yes, he did appreciate her company, and he was very glad that she chose to share it with him.
Thinking quietly a moment, he shrugged a bit, and turned to look back over at her, "get back to work?" He glanced down, falling silent with thought again as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He started to mention his concern about the fireworks and drawing attention to the prison, but he stopped just shy of doing so.
"Hm." He lifted his eyes back up to find hers and nodded. Yep. Work. He had a pretty girl literally in his arms, asking what he was going to do after the fucking fireworks-- and he said ‘work’. He ought to be ashamed of himself.
"...You?" He kept his eyes on hers, though it was a little dark and a bit hard to see-- at least until the fireworks lit up the night sky and everything with it, including her adorable expression. Taisce blinked as he answered her. She had completely forgotten that he was working. Oops. She was thankful it was dark so that he couldn’t see her flush a bit.
“I- uh. Nothing really?” Her only plans that night were to party and hang with O’Brien. So her plans were simple. “Go back to my room and sleep probably. I’m gonna try to be up at a decent time and work on things in the supply room. Rae’s got it pretty well set, there’s just little things that are going to irk me I’m sure.”
Taisce’s personality was that of a neat freak. Everything had a place and if it didn’t, she’d find one for it. And if she was going to keep the stockroom organized, she had to have a system set up that she could work with. “Speaking of, we’re probably going to need to reorganize the guard duty schedules since I’m probably going to be focusing on keeping an eye on things there. I don’t completely trust locks.” A lock only kept an honest person out, and there was nothing to show Taisce that everyone at Sing Sing was trustworthy. O’Brien was, from as far as she could tell, but she still had a string of skepticism. It was only healthy, she wouldn’t feel bad about it.
She smiled up at him. “But that’s tomorrow.” O'Brien nodded, "sleep's good." He bit at his lip, thinking. "I'll probably sleep in. I gave Higgins all of the early morning shifts." But Taisce knew that. "He starts tomorrow. With Mike." O'Brien wasn't very much a morning person.
He also, however, was a bit of a neat freak. Things had to be organized and sometimes a specific and certain way. If anyone had ever visited his apartment back before the apocalypse, and had the opportunity to see his closet, they might have made fun of the color order he kept his ties and shirts in.
"Hm," he nodded, "I think we can do that." rearrange the schedule, yes. Aaand she was right. That was tomorrow. They had a whole two or three hours before it was actually the 5th.
By the time she smiled back up at him, he was already focused on her. Deep in thought, of course. He blinked out of his daydream of sorts and awkwardly returned her smile. "Well.." He nodded and hesitantly glanced back toward the fireworks in the night sky.
"You're welcome to stay here until you get too sleepy." “Higgins?” She’d never actually known Marty’s name. O’Brien had referred to him as the Rookie, and everyone else knew him as Sandwich Guy. But the wheels turned, and deduction finished that thought. “Rookie?”
She shrugged a bit. “As long as he does his job, I’ll have no qualms with him.” Taisce was an any sort of time type person. Working random ass hours in the Army had done that to her. Pulling twenty four hour CQ or Staff Duty at least once a month for nearly six years? She’d learned to run off of energy drinks and coffee. She also learned how to sleep light enough to not get caught sleeping on duty. It had fucked with her circadian rhythm for sure. Some nights she didn’t sleep at all. And some days she slept until the sun went down.
She was going to say “if I get sleepy” but decided against it. “Sounds good,” was her answer instead, and she turned her attention back to the fireworks as well.