InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I ate your parents."

Z. Luc Haust // Apollōn (radiantdelphi) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2011-08-04 20:59:00

Entry tags:

apollo, sif

i smoke two joints before i smoke two joints..
Who: Luc and Lucy.
What: Stoner times.
Where: Pax Letale, apt 1005.
When: Friday, August 5, 2011. 4:20pm. No, really.
Warnings: Drug usage (though I maintain marijuana is not a drug..) and probably language. It can't be helped.
Notes: None yet..

It had taken Luc most of the day to sleep off his hangover - not that he'd gotten very drunk the night before at the club, just that the cheap scotch he'd been drinking didn't sit well with him. He was a spoiled drunk, after all. His body wasn't the kind to let him forget that knowledge.

He'd rolled out of bed sometime around 2:45 in the afternoon, and if he hadn't decided to give himself the day off in every sense of the word (as in one of Luc's few days without any sort of to-do list, a rarity in and of itself), he probably would have been very upset with his own behavior. But, luckily for him, it was a day off, and so he took his time preparing himself breakfast, taking a nice, leisurely shower after he'd eaten. He didn't bother to shave, because he didn't really think he had anyone to impress that day - besides, he'd shaved before he left for the club the night before. Rubbing a palm across the light stubble on his cheek, he figured he was doing okay for today.

He found a purple American Apparel shirt in his clean pile of laundry (that he would have to put away tomorrow because, again, he had the day off) and a pair of Calvin Klein jeans that were older than most things he owned anymore - didn't even bother with underwear, because he was a classy gent like that on days like this. The shirt was long enough to cover any indications that he was going commando, and that was good enough for him.

After putting the dirty dishes in the sink to be cleaned later, he made his way to the bedroom to pull his stash box out of the nightstand drawer - perching on the edge of his bed while he broke up some of the "Cali O.G. Kush" (as it had been pandered to him as, but the names of such things really didn't mean shit to him - as long as it was good and got him high, they could call it "Eskimo Bunnyfuck" and he'd buy it) to roll a nice, fat joint between his fingers. A skill he'd honed over many years - as marijuana was the only thing that he'd ever done that he would probably never quit. There may come a day in the unforseeable future where he would quit drinking (if he had to) - and he'd never been much for designer chemical drugs like cocaine or ecstasy, or much of a prescription pill-popper - but marijuana was something he would never, ever give up. For anyone or anything. It was one of the few things that calmed him down and zenned him out - and with how stressed he got from working with some of the most high-maintenance people on the planet? He needed something for that. Hell, he deserved it for how much bullshit he had to put up with more often than he didn't.

It was as he was rolling said joint, though, that he remembered a discussion with one of his downstairs neighbors (though pretty much everyone in the complex was his downstairs neighbor, he supposed) about.. well, exactly what he was about to do. And in the past week while he'd been so swamped with things he had to do, he had forgotten he'd made semi-plans to hang out with one certain Lucy who shared a love for that bitch Mary Jane. So, tucking the joint behind his ear (it was nice that he could smell it from there as well - and his longish hair covered it nicely from unwanted attention), he went into the kitchen to wrestle up some snacks - a bag of Cheetos (stoner staple), a new container of Oreos, and a six-pack of 7up (not everyone was all for caffeine, after all, and he liked to be correct about things when going into new situations) from the fridge.

He arranged them to where he could carry it all as well as his keys and cell phone, then headed out the door to the elevator - barefoot, but he was staying in the building, so he didn't think it would matter really. He was concerned they hadn't gotten the elevator fixed for a brief moment, but by the time he'd considered taking the stairs there was a DING and the doors opened wide. So it was easy getting to the 10th floor, and to apartment 1005 - which he only worried was the right apartment after he'd knocked on it. Because he was the great thinker, Luc Haust. Only, you know, not.

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sifwheat
2011-08-05 02:35 am UTC (link)

Lucy was tucked on the couch. She had had a long day of smiling and pretending she was perfectly fine and happy and not at all miserable in order to convince her parents that they did not need to stay with her. She didn't want them to bother, she was perfectly fine on her own. She didn't need them to take care of her. She was a grown woman and perfectly capable of doing it herself. Well, most of the time anyway. Okay, maybe only half the time, but that wasn't the point. The point was, if they were to sit around and worry about her, they would drive her nuts. Being on her own again, even for such a short period of time, had reminded her of how much she enjoyed not living with her parents. Of course she loved them, and loved spending time with them, but she loved her privacy, too.

Right now, she was bundled in thick, pink, fuzzy socks and her shark house shoes. The house shoes were worn and old, almost to the point of being worn out, but she loved them. Someone had given them to her during one of her many hospital stays in an attempt to give her something useful and something she would enjoy. They brought the ocean to her, they said. She hadn't stopped wearing them since.

Her head was covered by a bright pink scarf that matched the sweat suit she was wearing. She was tired, her body was aching, and she needed a break. Burying herself in large, warm clothes was her go to source for comfort and relaxation. It made her feel like she was wearing a big, warm hug. Nothing was better than a hug!

She picked up the remote and began to channel surf, hoping she could find something funny. She needed some funny. Her search was interrupted by a knock at the door. She frowned slightly and hit mute on the tv. She hadn't been expecting company.

"Who is it?" She called out quietly, raising up off the couch and padding quietly toward the entryway. She had watched too many scary movies to even consider opening the door to see who it was. Instant death probably awaited her on the other side, and she totally didn't feel like dying right now. More likely than not, it would hurt a lot, and she already hurt enough as it was.

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radiantdelphi
2011-08-05 02:43 am UTC (link)

Luc would have been lying if he said he hadn't expected someone to actually open the door when he knocked. Granted, he expected it to be the wrong person, but he still wasn't exactly prepared for someeone to call out from behind the closed entryway. And, of course, having not heard her voice before didn't make him feel any more confident that he had indeed found the right apartment. Go Haust.

"I - uh, it's Luc? Your upstairs neighbor?" He cleared his throat and shifted the munchies in his hands around so they were more comfortable to hold - since clearly he wasn't getting to set them down just yet.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm looking for Lucy and I don't know if I have the right apartment number, actually.." he admitted, and he hated that he had to raise his voice just that little extra so he could be heard through the closed door - because he already sounded like a dumbass for having to say it in the first place; the fact that now he was going to have to say it louder so she heard him was just making him feel even more like one. Nevermindd that he already looked like one, standing there with an armful of stoner snacks and a joint rolled behind his ear. Causing a ruckus - he could already picture having the cops called on him for being too loud and suspicious outside someone's door.. yeah. And the explanation to the cops would be amazing, especially if he or she could smell the rolled dank hidden in his hair. This could go really well, he could just see it.