Henry Townshend is a ghost magnet (room_302) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-04-30 18:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, henry townshend, revy |
Who: Henry and Revy (With Dan Smith bartending)
What: Drinks
When: Recently
Where: The Double Tap
Rating/Warnings Lowish; Just language
Status: Complete!
Henry was careful at choosing the bars he and Revy would go to have a drink and hang out. The bar had to have the right kind of music, the right kind of booze, and most importantly, allow its patrons to smoke inside. There weren’t many places like that anymore. The one that Henry had found was like finding the last unicorn.
It was a dive, make no mistake. Even though it had a brand new high tech jukebox and there, the bar looked and felt old. The windows were smokey, caked with grime that was probably older than Henry himself was. The walls were paneled with dark wood to match the floor. The smell of stale beer hung in the air masked only by the veil of smoke provided by the patrons. Even the bartender himself - a rough looking man who somehow made wearing a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie look as though he were slumming it with the rest of them. A cigarette dangled precariously from the bartender’s mouth, fully completing the look.
What really sold Henry on the bar, though, was the name: The Double Tap. He figured Revy would approve of the name.
“My mother went back to Maine a few days ago,” Henry said after the beers were ordered. “I think she thinks I’ve gone crazy. I tried to tell her the hole in my bathroom was a clever movie prop. I don’t know if she believed me.”
Revy liked this place. It had the right amount of sleaze, lacked fucking hipsters, and no one gave a fuck about her lighting a cigarette around here - turns out a lot of bars were cracking down on that (what a load of bull) and there were limited indoor public places that allowed her to blacken her lungs.
That bartender had the right damn idea. She lit hers, and took a long, relaxing drag.
“Maybe it’ll have her fuck off from this area for good,” she suggested, shrugging. “It’d be in her best interest. I take it she didn’t run into some creepy ghoul fucker while hanging around your place? The OC’s ghost world asshole behaved?”
Unbeknownst to Revy, the bartender, who also happened to own the place, couldn’t stand hipsters and had no qualms about kicking any out that dared walk through the door. He was also a firm believer of people exercising their own liberties. If people wanted to smoke, especially with the campaigns against “Big Tobacco” being aired on television, he was of the opinion to let them. If someone complained, they could just find themselves another watering hole.
He poured Revy and Henry each their drinks and took Henry’s credit card to open a tab for the two of them before returning to wiping down a few glasses in preparation for that night’s crowd.
Henry didn’t mind beer, he’d drink it when offered, but if given the choice, he almost always went for hard liquor and tonight was a rum kind of night. He didn’t recognize the label on the bottle the bartender had poured from. In fact, he didn’t recognize a lot of the labels on the bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. There was no top shelf stuff here. No middle shelf either and the rum in Henry’s glass, even though it was only a couple of fingers worth, packed quite the punch.
“Maybe,” he answered Revy with a bit of a wheeze. “I was kind of wondering if maybe we could mend things a little. But I think it might be too late for that and now she thinks I’m crazy. I guess that’s better than if she actually saw some of the stuff that goes on here. For the most part the hole was just a hole. She was only in my apartment twice. Chloe and I kept her pretty occupied.”
Revy had two main poisons: rum, and Heineken. Considering the topic of choice, it was definitely a rum sort of night - Henry’s human incubator showing her face around was definitely a hell of a surprise. “Maybe she’ll think twice before randomly popping up next time,” she shrugged, exhaling the smoke at the opposite direction. Probably at some other fucker’s face behind her. “At least she didn’t stay with you, jesus fuck, that hole makes it too risky.”
How the hell he continued living the way he did was a damn mystery to her but she guessed after all this time he’d be used to it. “What damn choices do you have anyway? I don’t think showing her what the fuck that hole can do would end well. Better she think you’re nuts. Lesser of shit scenarios.”
Henry fiddled with his glass, rolling it back and forth between his palms. Revy was right. “I know,” he admitted. “I don’t want her to see what the hole can do either. At least the apartment was quiet for the short amount of time she was there.” He finally picked up his drink and took a glug of the rum. His mother arriving in Orange County may have been a surprise, but there had been a small part of Henry that had hoped that it was a sign that things were changing between them. That maybe finally his mother was putting her animosity towards her ex-husband behind her enough so that Henry could have some kind of relationship with her. Now she thought he was crazy and the odds of her ever coming back were slim. Considering no matter where he went, the hole would follow him, it was probably better this way.
“At least she got to meet Chloe,” Henry said as he set his now half empty glass back on the bar. “The two of them got along pretty well.”
“Couldn’t have been a total loss of a visit,” Revy smirked, reaching over to flick his ear, gentleness clearly lacking but at least she wasn’t backhanding him in the nuts. That vicinity wasn’t hers to fuck with. “Who knows. Maybe one day you won’t have that fucking thing following you around every goddamn place you go and you might have a chance for a normal visit. Can’t rule out that possibility either. Have your dreams even ended?”
Fuck, she’d be hella surprised if that thing stuck around even afterwards. That had to be worse than a goddamn STD.
The top of Henry’s ear stung, but better his ear than his nuts, which he knew from experience. He made a face at her, but didn’t move to press his hand or his glass to ear, even if it would have made the stinging go away. “Nope,” he shook his head. “Dreams are still going.” He said a little bitterly, but shrugged as though there wasn’t anything he could really do to change that. And there really wasn’t, unless he left the county, but like he told Leon before, there was a part of him who didn’t want the Dreams to end. They had become a part of him and made him who he was now, and he was kind of afraid of loosing that.
“A friend of mine who knows about this magic stuff told me that the hole was probably gonna follow me around, but,” he shrugged a little, “I think I may have found a way around that. My friend’s…husband?” Yeah, that sounded right “suggested that I keep the apartment I currently have, but actually live somewhere else. Like maybe I can trick the hole into staying where it is. Maybe the hauntings too if I leave the doll there.” He polished off what was left in his glass. He looked at Revy a little sheepishly, “probably better off too. Last time Leon was over my place, it decided to freak us both out. Can’t really continue to have company over if shit like that’s going to happen.” Plus, he really wanted to move in with Chloe, and this seemed like the best way to do that so she wouldn’t have to deal with the added BS in her life.
“Leon saw the hole?” Revy cackled. “He probably needed a change of pants after, the fucker.” Someone eavesdropping could assume she had animosity with the way she spoke but this was affection - sort of. Hers came out in strings of vulgarity and hostile comments. Leon also spooked easily whether he liked to admit it or not, and he didn’t handle shit he couldn’t explain all that well either.
His plan caught her curiosity, though. Ashes were flicked onto the nearest tray, and she beckoned the bartender for another round because she could drink rum like water. “You think the hole and creepy doll won’t know that you’re not there?” she asked, raising a brow. “I’m all for you leaving that shit behind, but where do you plan on moving to?”
“Not exactly,” Henry explained. “We were having a drink at the apartment when it decided to put on a show.” He closed his mouth when the cigarette smoking bartender came to refill Revy’s drink. He didn’t look as though he was actively listening to their conversation, but Henry was cautious all the same. Bartenders had big ears, and Henry was pretty damn sure that the scruffy man had heard something when he refilled his glass without being prompted.
Henry nodded at him appreciatively, but waited for the man to move down the bar to another patron before he continued. “So Leon had a front row seat to a new haunting, which I think is actually worse than looking into the hole. The hole doesn’t have crying skinned cats inside it.” It wasn’t the worst haunting Henry’d experienced, but it had definitely been the one to affect him the most.
“I’m not sure where I’ll go,” Henry went on after gulping down a few mouthfuls of rum. “I’d like to move in with Chloe, but I don’t know if she’s ready for that, especially with all the stuff that happens for both of us.”
Skinned cats. What the ever-loving-fuck. Revy involuntarily shuddered. Her guts were steely, she could handle gore - but Henry’s shit, it was the macabre kind straight out of a horror film. That gulp she took from her glass was fuckin’ necessary at this rate.
“Have you asked her?” Revy inquired, elbow up on the back of her stool. “Kinda seems like the natural next step in your relationship, dickcheese. You two are over the other’s place often enough in the same building. Doubt shacking up officially’s gonna change a damn thing.”
“We’ve talked about it,” Henry answered, but there was some trepidation on both of their sides about the next Big Step in their relationship. “You know, if it wasn’t for the Dreams making even the simplest things complicated, this would have been a no brainer. But the fact of the matter is I attract ghosts like it’s my job and Chloe already has enough to deal with that kind of shit from her own Dreams bleeding over at random. Did I ever tell you she accidentally summoned a ghost from one of my Dreams? It freaked us both out. It hovered there at the edge of the bed looking at me and spouting shit about some kind of prophecy and calling me the ‘Receiver of Wisdom’ or something.”
Summoning was all a part of being in love with a Necromancer, something Henry’d had to come to terms with when Chloe had accidentally summoned a pack of zombies while in a cemetery with Caleb. And it was also all part of being in love with…whatever Henry was -- he was partial to the term Ghost Magnet. “Plus, there’s no guarantee about this shit. For all I know I’m totally wrong and the hole will just figure it out and follow me anyway.” His glass was half empty again and he swirled the liquid around. “Maybe I’ll find a box somewhere and just live there for a while.”
All good reasons why passing out on Henry’s couch shitfaced was the worst fucking idea, and would forever be a situation to avoid in any way she could - she was used to having things to kill, and she didn’t have the ability to re-kill something already dead. Unless someone made bullets for that shit, anyway. Revy would fucking buy it in a heartbeat.
“Misery loves company,” she motioned with her glass. “In a shitty way it’s kind of cute what the two of you got going on - you guys attract all the fucked up crap but if you two shacked up, one of you would always be there when something does bleed over. Sucks waking up to certain situations by yourself, doesn’t it?”
Maybe she’d worry less about Henry if she knew he wasn’t living alone with that thing.
This would probably sound strange, but Henry didn’t mind living with Satan’s Arse Hole in his bathroom. He had made peace with the entire idea sometime ago and had accepted that it was his responsibility. That had been before he’d met Chloe. Henry had never considered the possibility that he’d meet someone he’d want to share his life with like he wanted to share it with Chloe. He was lucky he’d been able to meet someone who’s Dreams were as strange and terrifying as his own.
Henry smiled despite himself. “Yeah, it does,” he agreed. He paused again when the scruffy bartender - new lit cigarette between his lips - refreshed their glasses again. “And you’re probably right. If Chloe and I live together, at least we wouldn’t be alone.”
It was an idea Revy herself was toying with. What if she and Leon took that next step into that part of their relationship? He had asked her help to look into buying a fucking house and hell if she knew if that was an invitation or not - but he seemed to be taking her opinions into serious consideration. Who the hell knew.
“You’ve got my guns to help you move if you two make it to that point,” she chuckled raspily, patting her biceps. “Not the ones that’ll shoot a cunt dead but you know - these.” That body of hers had been perfected in prison and she’d kept up with it.
Henry laughed. “Yeah, I get it.” Though the idea of Revy shooting Henry’s couch down the hall to the elevator to go up to Chloe’s apartment was a rather amusing image. “The same goes for you if, you know, you and Leon decide you wanna do the whole domestic living thing.” It was an interesting concept, Revy “shacking up” with someone, as she would most likely put it. But, if there was ever a person who would be her match, Henry was willing to bet Leon would be it. He smirked at her playfully.
“Oh, fuck you and shoot me,” groused the ex-con, knocking back her drink in its entirety - she was feeling the swimmy buzz, the warmth in her drinks, so keep bringing them the fuck on bartender. Paying customers here. “We’ll see how that goes. Considering all the shit we go through together, maybe.”
Leon had been subjected to her more hostile sides. Murder, the coverups, and while he was a bitch of the law he’d been beginning to realize the world wasn’t so black and white. He hadn’t run from her, either, as damaged and cracked as she could be underneath all the scarring and ink. Revy might actually sort of love him, or something.
And Henry would totally believe it, not that he ever expected to hear her say that she loved anyone. He’d been privy to Revy’s more violent tendencies on a couple of occasions, but it was also during those occasions he had seen something more to the rough Bad Ass Bitch than simple mindless violence. Oh, there was plenty of that to be sure. Henry’s nuts could testify to that. But there was definitely more. Revy had been the one to come to the squishy photographer’s aid. She was almost always the one to come to his aide, whether he was being tormented by his Dreams or being held hostage by some crazy-ass stupid bitch with a mohawk or sitting in his living room having lost his heart. Henry was confident that if Revy didn’t care about him, she would never have bothered.
So he was left to simply sit and smirk at her a semi-drunk sort of smirk, but a knowing smirk nonetheless.