Who: Booker & Lina What: Discussions of moving out and brain tumor things. When: Before the Spider ravaged the OC and stepped on every Best Buy Where: What's soon to be just Rogue & Booker's house Rating/Warnings: Lowish Status: Complete!
It’d been a week already from the entire game of ‘kidnap, torture, rescue’ and Lina seemed to have bounced back well, like nothing ever happened. No wounds, no scars, those clothes she’d been in had been tossed (blood soaked, dirty, gasoline drenched, no salvaging that). As for the dream stuff, she coped unhealthily by shoving it aside - again - because she had things to distract her. Things that needed her attention. Like gathering boxes for her move, telling Booker that she was moving, discussing his whole ‘brain tumor’ situation. The last two were things she wasn’t quite looking forward to, for varying reasons.
“Heeeey,” Lina greeted, hopping on the couch next to him in pajama clothes. Shorts, a t-shirt, and the crazy hair that’d been thrown into a bun atop. A few odd strands of blonde poked out, blonde that was never there, but it never caught her eye. Her feet kicked at him for attention. “What’cha watching? You busy? You should talk to me.”
The blonde was weird. Booker hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was watching, and he blinked his eyes when he snapped out of it. “Uh. No idea an’ not really.” He turned on the couch to face her. “What’s up?”
He’d been kind of going through the motions lately. His whatever-the-hell happened with Rogue, the doctor visits he didn’t speak of. Some days he just wanted to roll over and never wake up, other days he didn’t know what to do with himself. Elizabeth’s leaving had been like a torpedo and he was stuck taking on water.
Crossing her legs indian-style, she used her thighs as a bit of a drum while she hummed, trying to find the works to kickstart the conversation. “Just wanted to talk,” she said, a safeway to begin things. Admittedly, her stomach did a couple tumbles out of nerves. It wasn’t a big deal, was it? Lina would always be around. She was like a really cute cockroach that spit out explosions. It was a little hard (re: impossible) to get rid of her, period.
Her lips flatlined, then stuck out in a awkward duckface look. Then her nose wiggled, side to side, before she spoke. “Pete asked me to move in with him.”
Just wanting to talk usually meant bad things, in Booker’s experience. He girded himself for a tough conversation, but he hadn’t actually been expecting that. He should have. It was one of those things that happened. And a selfish, lonely part of him balked, reacting with a hurt that wasn’t warranted. He squashed that part of him, snorted, and said, “You don’t even have to give me the puppy eyes to help you move.”
Lina wasn’t sure what reaction to expect. He’d been a little hard to read lately, and a lot had hit him at once. Elizabeth leaving, Neena leaving, his falling out with his ex-girlfriend, the very real possibility of something in his head on the way to killing him.
“It won’t be much,” she insisted, considering Pete already had the essentials covered. The townhouse was well-furnished (though they needed to shop for a new damn television), and she’d be bringing with her personal stuff and random decor. Everything else could stay. “I just--I just wanted to tell you in person. And to remind you that just because I won’t be living here anymore, doesn’t mean I won’t be around. You do know that, right?”
“You’ll be droppin’ in, eatin’ our food an’ drinking our beer, right?” Booker smirked at her. “So do I gotta keep stocked up on your favorites, or do we gotta put some little treats on the ground an’ lure you inside?” He was still processing it, and decided he just didn’t handle change very well.
“No trails needed,” Lina leered and kicked at him again, playfully. It was a change, and a big one. She’d been living with Booker for almost a year (or, well, ever since his apartment and shop was bombed, and he’d been faceplanted in tits during all that), same with Rogue, she’d been used to being under the same roof. Lately Rogue had been hiding out, rarely seen, and even Lina herself had been frequenting Pete’s more than usual. Things were changing, it’s just the way it was. “But you can’t get rid of me that easily. And with everything going on with you, I’m not going to ditch you. Besides...”
Cue the somewhat diabolical grin as she shifted, side-by-side so she could shove her shoulder into his. “Things are weird between you and Rogue, in a good way?”
Faceplanted in tits was one way of putting it. But then, they made great pillows. With Rogue constantly at work and Lina constantly at Pete's (and being kidnapped, among other things) Booker had increasingly found himself alone. And maybe he was okay with that. A man couldn't rely on a gaggle of women to keep him company. (at least not without people talking).
Booker shrugged his shoulder. "Couldn't tell you. I think she's feeling more isolated than she wants to admit."
“Because she thinks hiding in that hole above her cafe is the best way to go,” Lina sighed, shaking her head. Stubborn people, that’s who she had as roommates - and she loved them, but sometimes she thought it more productive to bash their heads together. She was stubborn, but her hardheadedness didn’t cater to self-destructive tendencies. She’d keep the destruction to the environment, thank you. “We had a talk, and I’m hoping she actually...comes out more. This house is too big for one person.”
There were four of them. Now three, and soon it’d be down to two. “And considering your current state of health, it’s good to have someone around. I’m going to talk to Naga, maybe. Her dream kingdom is the white magic capitol, she oughta know something useful for once in her life.”
“That...might be good. Don’t hit me if I get distracted by her tits.” Booker grinned at her, like he was expecting her to hit him. “House does seem to be too big now. Ain’t sure how to fix that.”
Invite someone else to live in it, but who was the question. He’d gotten used to (re: lazy) with the people who were around. Adjusting to someone new would be difficult.
No standard whack over the head when it came to referencing Naga’s generous rack, though Lina did shoot him a look. Don’t misunderstand things; she always had an issue with those chest blimps, and most things related to Naga caused her to instinctively twitch.
Like right now. Twitch.
“You can get a pet,” she chirped as a suggestion. “Something with a loud presence. Like a dog. Or another roommate, maybe? This house is a home for people after theirs gets blown up or ransacked. You’ve got a tradition to uphold there, buddy.”
“Until this place gets blown up. Don’t wanna risk a dog over it.” But maybe if they’d had one someone wouldn’t have wrecked the place on Elizabeth. Booker sighed, and scriched his chin. “Getting used to someone new ought to be interesting.”
“We risked Guess,” she pointed out. And speaking off, the four-legged fuzzball in question decidedly quit sunbathing on the window sill and leisurely made her way over, joining them on the couch for the sake of attention. Soon, Booker’s hand got headbutted for pets. “But dogs are like...I don’t know, they need attention like kids do, so that might be responsibility you don’t want.”
Still, puppies.
“How have the nosebleeds been, by the way?”
“Better some days than others.” Booker shrugged his shoulder. “But I ain’t ever won father of the year award, but maybe it’ll give somethin’ to keep Rogue around.”
“Waaaaaait…” Lina sat up straight, shook her head and gave him a funny look. “What’s going to keep her around? The nosebleeds or not being father of the year? I mean, both are strange incentives but alright, Bookerbutt, you do you.”
Well, either way, Rogue seemed concerned enough and maybe whatever ‘weird’ moment they had was a swift kick in the ass to get herself back to the land of the social, and she said she could handle Booker. All while Lina tried some sort of hocus pocus crap to efficiently deal with his brain.
Booker laughed. “I mean a dog. I’m warmin’ up to the idea, but I know I’ll just accidentally kill it.”
“Oh! That makes more sense!” A grin splintered her face and she reached over to ruffle his hair, hopping off the couch (away from Guess’ pet demands, unfortunately) and sauntering over to the kitchen - which wasn’t far, and it overlooked the living room anyway - for a couple beers. Alcohol, but not something that’d get them shitfaced. Lina did well in setting aside the hard liquor these past couple months, and many bars have been spared her destructive clumsiness.
Popped open, cold and crisp, she handed him one. “I just don’t want you to be twiddling your thumbs around here by yourself, Booker. Which only means we need to drag you out more. You know you’re always welcome to buy me food, if that tickles your fancy.”
Honestly, Booker shouldn’t even have booze in the house. But he’d fallen off the wagon a long time ago and really only his friends kept him from rolling into a gutter somewhere. He side-eyed Lina. “Well when you put it that way.”
There was a difference between drinking alone and drinking socially, and this was more of a social kind of thing - casual, in which she could keep an eye on him and deliver a swift kick to the nose if he got out of hand. Lina had been somewhat of a borderline alcoholic (especially when she arrived here, now well over a year ago), but things changed. She drank, but didn’t let it get out of control. “Right? It’s basically an offer you can’t refuse,” she grinned, taking a sip. “But I’ll talk to Naga at some point,” maybe after she explained the whole Amelia situation to her, “and...we can see what she can do? I know she’s going let my asking for her help get to her head.”
Booker used to drink out of control and it tended to land him in hot water. Sometimes it would be so easy to fall back into bad habits and more than one bad night lately he’d found himself picking up a bottle only to talk himself into putting it back.
“That….sounds fair.” He reached over suddenly, looping an arm around her and squeezing.
“Chin up, Bookerbutt,” Lina gave him a pat on the hand. Out of the two, she’d be the optimist. She had to be. And maybe it was a bit of desperation for some sunshine - she witnessed the death of her friends on the other side, and she didn’t think she could handle something similar. She just didn’t handle deaths of people she knew well at all, period. “It’ll be alright. It’s not over for you yet.”