Ren "THE RAPIST WITH BONY HIPS" Valin (renvalin) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-01-01 19:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-06-28 |
Born to be down; I think you'll get used to it
Who: Ren and Imogene
When: About 5:15pm - Sunday
Where: Dog-Ink, upstairs in Ren's place
Ren was holding out on her.
He had to be. The painkillers he'd given Imogene had about as much kick as a geriatric grasshopper, and no one with as many drugs lying about as he did only stocked advil in their cupboards. With a small grunt, the bear hauled herself off of his couch and peered blearily around, her breath coming in painful wheezes. Damn, it felt like her sides were going to split open... for a brief moment, Imogene entertained the grotesque fantasy of what that would feel like. Slippery. Clearly the pain was going to her head, that or lack of food. Something to eat first, then. She shuffled forward, lurching in slow-motion through the small apartment. The wall helped support her most of the way to the fridge, but it was on the way back (hot dog in hand) that it occurred to her to check in his room.
Sure enough, lying on the floor was a likely-looking pill bottle. With a smirk, Imogene crouched to pick it up (almost falling over in the process), peering at the label. Guh. Something long and unpronounceable, but it said to take 'for severe pain'. Whatever, had to be better than the over-the-counter shit he'd given her. Toddling back to the couch, she poured out a few pills. How many should she take? Did it matter at this point? She sank back down onto the couch after downing the rest of the hot dog and popped a small handful of pills into her mouth. Maybe now she could get some fucking sleep.
Headed upstairs to check in on Imogene - or to settle his mind that she wasn't snooping around in his business - Ren entered the main living area with a half-formed scowl. His eyes were sharp as he glanced across the way to her, and then immediately down to where there was a pill bottle in front of her. "Oh really?" he asked, his tone not at all amused. "You root through all your bosses bedrooms or am I special?"
"Oh, fuck you!" Imogene cracked her eyes open wide enough to glower at him. "It was lying right by the door, you slob. You couldn't pay me enough to touch anything in that bedroom." She shifted so she was stretched out on the couch again, snorting a little at his tone. "And I wouldn't have had to do that, if you'd been civil enough to give me proper painkillers. I've got a fucking broken rib here." She wasn't feeling particularly charitable, not between the pain and how he thought she was batshit crazy about the flaming eye guy.
Ren's eyes narrowed significantly at the outright insult she'd spat at him, his temper flaring up all the more almost immediately. He crossed the room to where the pill bottle was and snatched it up, glancing it over before tucking it into one of his back pockets. "You could've just asked me, you thief. Eat my hotdogs, sleep on my couch and steal my pain meds..." Ren turned to head to the kitchen, not really hungry so much as looking for something else to do. He opened the cupboards and stared at them for a long time. Everything required a bit of preparation, and he didn't have the patience for any of that. Rather than making himself an actual lunch, Ren reached up and pulled down a canister of dried wasabi peas. They would have to do for now. "You should consider yourself lucky, considering I helped you at all, you know."
"Think I don't know that?" Imogene sighed and let her head fall back, staring blearily at the ceiling. "I don't like this either. Fuck, I already owe you for even hiring me, and I sure as hell don't like to be in debt to people. I've got no fucking clue how I'm going to pay you back." Already the room seemed softer, and the pain eased slowly from her bones. That was better, by far. "Pro'ly have killed myself if I went to ask. Or scared away cust'mers. Or both. An' I didn't need to give you mo' reason than my goddamned mouth t' be pissed at me. Don't wanna get myself turned in or nothin'." Perhaps she took a few too many of those pills, but it felt so nice. They probably hit harder because she was exhausted on top of all the injuries, that was all. She was paying not much attention to what was coming out of her mouth.
Ren shoveled a handful of peas into his open mouth and chewed noisily, returning to the living room to stare at her. "Did you de-evolve?" he asked, his tone sharp and cocky. "Or are you just not paying attention anymore?" He sat down on a chair opposite the couch, not bothering to push off the pair of jeans underneath him. They had been there for a long time, anyway, and they would probably stay there for much longer.
"Pay 'tention to what, now?" She glanced over and scowled. "And I'm at least as evolved as you are... how th' hell did weres 'volve, anyway?" It really didn't make any sense at all, once you thought about it. Were were-monkeys closer to humans than were-turkeys? Or did it work more like a disease, passing through blood? Imogene's eyes glazed over a bit as she pondered these mysteries for a moment, then she shot her boss another glare. "Jerk."
"Pay attention to the words pouring out of your mouth," he returned, speaking while spitting out a few pieces of wasabi peas in the process. He was tired and crabby and didn't really give a shit anyway. If he went back to work with food on his shirt, people would have to deal with it. "You're not making any fucking sense. How many'a those pills did you eat?" he demanded. "I may be a jerk, Gene, but I'm your god damn boss, and a generous one at that."
"Don't make it less true, you admit it. An' I took..." She pondered for a moment. "Enough. 'm exhausted, man. Y'know how hard t'is to sleep witha broken rib?" Too fucking hard. And the shit he'd given her the other night did next to nothing, seriously. "I like breathing w'out hurtin' myself." And right now she felt like she could get up and do a jig, but it was too damn comfy to move. That and she was pretty sure it wasn't actually smart to dance a jig right now, even if it wouldn't hurt.
Ren smirked at her question and shrugged helplessly. Of course he knew what it was like to sleep with broken bones. He was a bastard and a murderer, neither of which implied he'd had an easy life so far. "I like breathing without hurting myself too, but I'm not stupid enough to blindly eat a handful of pills. Too many of those and you'll end up like any number of over-dosed people I could mention."
"What're you, my dad? 'm bigger than I look, an' I can handle it. Not comatose yet, am I?" And she was still mostly coherent. Just a little distractible. And she didn't feel like tearing her ribcage out anymore, so that was an improvement in her book. "I c'n handle myself, y'know. I've done it long 'nough already." Imogene rolled her eyes and snorted. "'s cute that you're worried, though." Mostly it amused her that Ren had any sort of protective instinct at all. He really didn't seem the type. Probably just didn't want to have to explain a dead body on his couch.
Ren fell silent immediately as she accused him of caring about her. He took in a deep breath and tried to decide how he felt about that statement before responding to it. Rather indecisively, he settled on not knowing how to feel and moved on with his life. "I just don't want to have to throw my couch out if you die on it," he told her, reaching into the container between his legs for more wasabi peas. His tongue burned a little, but it was a cool and - to him - pleasant sensation.
"Figured it was somethin' like that." She yawned and let her eyelids fall shut again. "But s'cool, I can resp'ct that, y'know? 'm just a punk run'way kid, after all." And not a terribly pleasant one, after all. As much as Imogene valued her 'image', she never expected anyone to like her for it. That just wasn't the way she worked. Her social circles usually ran more on the basis of respect than how likable anyone was, anyhow, and it was more of a pain than it was worth to have people think she was 'nice'. Nice folk got taken advantage of. If you were a sharp-tongued punk, you generally knew how people really felt about you.
"Hey," he started, brow rising, "you said it, not me." And it was the truth, damn it. It didn't matter what he thought about her anyway. She was here and that was the end of it according to him. He didn't want to think beyond it, or try and pinpoint his reasons for allowing her to stay. Maybe he was just lonely, desperate for some kind of companionship... but if that were the case, he wasn't anywhere near revealing it. "You should probably just fuckin' ask next time you want something stronger. Those pills are pricey." Ren wasn't actually overly concerned with the cost of the pain relievers, though it was another excuse he could give her, another way he could control the situation.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatev'r." She could care less at the moment. "I'll ask, sure." Besides, she shouldn't need them much longer. The wounds were healing, she just had had enough with the pain. "Seems y'got plenty more expensive shit 'round, though." And she hadn't taken any of that. See, she was being civil! "Not that I'll touch 't. Or tell nobody. I don't give a rat's ass."
Ren's eyes sharpened at that and he turned his full attention on her. "Just what the fuck you been pokin' around in?" he asked, his tone losing any bit of friendliness it might have previously possessed. "You better not tell anybody. It'll be the last thing you say, Gene." Ren wasn't sure what she'd seen, or what he even had hidden in his place right now, but he knew that it probably wasn't anything simple.
"C'mon, you've got baggies of shit an' the bathroom trash is fulla needles. And I c'n smell it. I been 'round users before, Ren, an' dealers. I ain't stupid enough to go rattin' on people. 'Specially when I owe 'em." And, in her mind, she did owe Ren. Quite possibly her life. Her injuries probably wouldn't have killed her outright, but living in the woods, wounded, unable to even get up a tree? That sent every survival instinct in her mind screaming. "So y'can relax, honest."
He didn't quite relax at her words, though some of the tension definitely subsided. At least he could be sure she wasn't stupid... and probably not outright snooping around his place. He should have figured, though, that her were nature would come into play. Of course she could smell the drugs. He broke the eye contact to stare off toward the hallway, not really looking at anything in particular. "Alright," he muttered, nodding once in a vague manner. He wondered how she would respond to him getting trashed tonight, and decided he didn't really care all that much. If she were genuinely annoyed, he could always drink himself into unconsciousness in the comfort of his own bedroom.
Well, he wasn't yelling at her anymore. That was a start. She yawned and rolled onto the side that didn't have a broken rib, half-curling up. "Now c'n I sleep or s'at gonna bother you, too?" Her tone was more joking than sour now, with the painkillers lightening her mood. Even with Ren being a jackass, she found she couldn't really stay mad at him right now. What was the point?
Ren turned back to look at her, glancing briefly over her body in a small moment of selfish interest. "I suppose that's fine," he told her, moving to stand up with his wasabi peas. He had more to do downstairs yet anyway, and he supposed talking to her in her drugged state wasn't going to do him any good. "Do what you want, but don't fuck with a man's drugs, Gene. Just remember that and we won't have to play the domestic violence game."
"Imma goddamned bear. No matter who wins tha' fight, it won't be good for either of us. An' I don't want nothing but th' painkillers, yeesh." Imogene kept her eyes firmly shut, mostly mumbling into the balled-up shirt she'd salvaged as a pillow. No matter how many times she told this guy that she wasn't stupid, he didn't quite get it that she didn't want to be on his bad side. She had no desire to touch his drugs.
Ren kept his next comment to himself, that if it came down to it that she'd never make it to her bear form. It was an idle threat though, something unlikely to ever be taken to the next level, or even vocalized unless provoked. Whether or not he liked it, Imogene was temporarily under his proverbial wing, and for better or worse they were going to have to learn to get along. Still... his house, his rules, and Ren wasn't the kind of man too afraid to back up his threats. He stretched his legs and then his arms and back, curving forward as he reached for the ceiling. "I need a new damn mattress," he muttered under his breath, and quietly he left to head back to the kitchen for something to drink.