you've got to carry your heart like a torch in the night.

[metamorphotic]

un: justnick

"It's Nick. You know what to do."

voice | video | text | action | overflow | etc.

Comments

text; un: justnick

[metamorphotic]

to: derelictdrifter

you rang?

[be_notorious]

From Rick's, right?

So I was asking around and heard you were in need of some services that I'm pretty sure I can provide. For a price, of course, but a reasonable one. I'll just need the compensation for time and supplies, you dig?

How about I stop by somewhere? Could be the bar or a place of your choosing. If you need someone with you, that's fine by me. I'd just recommend they not be the judgey sort.

[metamorphotic]

that’s me. the one and only nick from rick’s.

[and she’s definitely curious to know who’s been talking about her. loose lips can be a problem she doesn’t need.

she’s also curious to find out what kind of guy still says stuff like you dig.]

i’m free in a couple hours if you want to stop by the bar.

[be_notorious]

Can do.



[Back in the day (and when one means back in the day, one means 'centuries ago' when it comes to Lightbearers), Drifter used to be a bartender. He liked the work. Said that people that came to a bar showed their true selves. That's how it makes him feel. Sure it's shadier, more violent, slovenly, but it's truthful. The opposite of those tailored social media pages (yeah those'll still be around in some form in a thousand years).]

[So bars are good places for him, and he swaggers in with his loose, lazy walk and leans on the bar to wait for her.]

I'd be Drifter, if you're who I'm lookin' for.

[That sure is a hard southern accent coming out of a face that doesn't seem to suit it. He's wearing a combo of what looks like curated cowboy gear and Chinese silk patterns on his vest, with a jade necklace of intertwining snakes.]

I'll just sit by here while I'm waitin'.

[metamorphotic]

[back in the day - which, for nick, was only a decade ago, if you include the seven-year timeskip - she was of the same opinion about patrons of her place of employment, that they were more honest about their true natures within the bar’s walls than almost anywhere else. sure, most of the time those natures were ugly or misshapen in some way, but that neatly aligned with nick’s overall pessimistic view of her world and the people who inhabited it.

she’s alert to drifter’s approach, not only because she’s expecting him but also because that’s part of her job and part of how she learned to navigate her life from childhood. stay alert, avoid hurt. it’s an especially handy habit to have when you find yourself in a city run and monitored by the sort of sentient artificial intelligence that makes big brother look like a gas station security camera. she gives him a quick visual appraisal but doesn’t seem fazed by his attire - she’s been traveling the multiverse for a few years now, and even just in this city, she’s seen all kinds of people with their varying appearances.]

Guess that all depends on who you’re lookin’ for. [said like she could be joking or she could be not. after a short pause, she continues:] I’m Nick, and I am officially off the clock in about three minutes. Can I get you a drink? Act now - offer expires in three minutes.

[ok, yeah, she’s joking a little. it’s part of the bartender persona - you joke, you flirt a little, you act like you’re interested in what people have to say. sometimes it’s not even an act.]

[be_notorious]

[He's cleaner here because he can be, but the scent of engine oils and chemicals linger on him. He doesn't bother to mask it in any kind of cologne, knowing that'd just make him reek like poison. He smells like shop work and charcoal soap when he leans across the counter to look.]

I think y'all had some good vodka. I've been tryin' to enjoy access to the finer things.

[He leans back some, thinking about winking just to be a little bit of a prick but that's not the best idea to do when one really needs to do some business. He watches the patrons milling about. None of them too well off. That's both a good sign and a bad one. Poor people need some stronger patrons behind 'em. But then again, creepy surveillance state. He pulls out a jade coin to fiddle with while he waits, rifling it between his fingers with lazy, practiced ease.]

[metamorphotic]

[if she takes note of the way he smells, she gives no indication of it. the scent is a familiar one; her father was an auto mechanic before he died, and her first job in high school was at the same shop, running the front counter and answering phones, saving up every dollar she could to fund her escape from the dead prairie town where she was born.]

Good vodka it is, [she nods, and reaches for a clear bottle from the top shelves. at nearly six feet tall, she has an easier time retrieving it than some of her shorter coworkers would.] How did you want it - neat, on the rocks? I’m guessin’ you’re not really into mixers, but I do guess wrong some of the time.

[be_notorious]

Neat is fine. I'm used to drinkin' things at whatever temperature they hit my mouth.

[Finer things, yes. Watering down good vodka? Not a chance. Damn that girl is tall, though. Built like a Titan. Not that anyone here would know what that means, but there's something about her that makes it easy to imagine her holding a flaming hammer. Then again, she's heavy on that Warlock aesthetic. Looks like she'd appreciate the decorated look.]

[Doesn't matter. Nobody's anything. He's a far way from home, and in some cases that's great. In others? It's not far enough. Not yet, anyway.]

[He waits for his drink patiently.] The bar I worked at had a fightin' problem. But this is a city bar, an' mine was a little more frontiersy.

duke } finally made it past the end to finally begin.

[metamorphotic]

[it’s closer to afternoon than morning when nick wakes, but that’s not unusual. a years-long career in tending bars means she’s night owl, comfortable living in the dark, staying out of the light. what isn’t usual - not anymore, at least - is waking up with the warmth of another body tangled up with her own. a pleased smile curls across her face before her eyes even open, because duke is still here with her, and that’s a giddying thought to grasp.

she likes him. he’s funny and smart and kind, he kisses with an intensity that feels like must come from his whole heart, and he makes nick feel something she hasn’t often felt in her life - safe. so yeah, she likes him a lot, and there’s no sense in pretending otherwise. life is too goddamn short, even for a nightbane.

nick takes care to avoid jostling him as she slips out of bed and silently makes her way to the bathroom at the other end of the walk-through closet joining it to the bedroom. on her way back she stops only long enough to pull on a tank top and a new pair of underwear - both black, of course - before carefully tucking herself back into bed next to duke, turned on her side to face him. she’s content to silently watch him sleep until he’s ready to join her in the realm of consciousness again.]

[exceptionalcrook]

[Duke stirs when Nick moves but doesn't wake up, deep into his own practiced midday slumber. He's been lucky enough to get the afternoon/closing shift, which means he can enjoy the situation he's now in. He spreads out in Nick's bed while she's gone, one arm stretched wide. When she climbs back into bed he sleepily draps the arm over her instead, drawing her close.

After a moment he nuzzles her face and his eyes flutter open.] Hi.

[He pulls his free arm underneath him and props himself up, kissing her briefly to cut down on the morning-breath thing he might have going on.] How're you doing? Good morning.

[metamorphotic]

[duke doesn’t need to work hard to get nick to come closer. now that he’s awake and clearly into the idea of staying curled up together, nick slips her arm around his waist, an answering gesture of reciprocation - yes, she likes this too. stay. duke’s company is very much wanted.]

Hey ... mornin’. [she meets his kiss and then leans in to take another, slower and lingering, morning breath be damned.] Mm ... I’d say I’m doin’ pretty damn great, actually. [deliciously sore in all the right places, warm and content, enjoying the simple pleasure of touch. lazing in bed with a gorgeous man who has treated her extremely well since the start of last night’s date and doesn’t seem to have any designs on stopping, now that the sun is up again. there’s no spell broken here, no chill of disappointment in the morning after - just pure bliss. more than nick dared hope for.] What about you?

[exceptionalcrook]

[Nope, this is easy. Easy and comfortable and warm and cozy, and Duke is more than happy to stay like this. He gives Nick that kiss willingly, languid and serene, and settles onto the pillow with a smile.] I think I'm good.

[It's not very often he gets to wake up with someone. Most of the time his date wants him out of her apartment pretty quickly, so this is another pleasant surprise. Again, just being with Nick makes sense, it's not just how well their bodies fit together or how good the sex had been. It's her.]

You wake up pretty.

[metamorphotic]

[she laughs quietly, a cover for the sudden spark of self-consciousness that comes to life in a corner of her mind. she’s never thought of herself as pretty. she knows she isn’t bad-looking, but she’s no knockout either. especially not with unruly bedhead and smudged eyeliner left over from the night before.]

Y’say that now, but you haven’t seen Coffee Monster Nick yet. She’s the exact opposite of pretty.

[her eyes close, and she shifts slightly to move herself a tiny bit closer to him. she’s content to stay like that for a moment, savoring the way he smells and the gentle rhythm of both of them breathing. her fingertips idly trace soft abstract shapes along his back. it’s almost easy to forget that there’s an entire world outside of this apartment’s walls, a world that wants to kill them, a world she has been fighting to keep at bay for more than a year. right now, this bedroom, this bed, wrapped up in duke’s arms, is all the world nick wants to know.]

Anyway, you’re pretty all the time.

[exceptionalcrook]

Yeah? What does Coffee Monster Nick entail? [Saying she wasn't pretty because of smudged makeup or bedhead was like saying he smelled bad because they'd been sweating last night. Maybe it wasn't picture-perfect, but who cared? It was real. They were both real, and it was easy to forget that this wasn't all there was to reality. If only it was.]

I think you beat me at that. [He watches her relax, trailing his fingertips up her neck and half-stroking half-winding into her hair.] Do you have anywhere to be for the next couple hours?

[metamorphotic]

Well, she looks like this ... [nick looks up at duke, expression set in an exaggerated scowl.] And she doesn't know how to talk 'cept in these weird growly noises. But the good thing is, she's pretty easy to get rid of. Just give her a couple cups of really good coffee as tribute and she'll be on her way.

[it's not her currently disheveled state that makes nick feel like she isn't pretty - it's a lifetime of critically low self-esteem, built and encouraged mainly by her mother. nick still has to fight the impulse to protest to duke that she isn't pretty, that he hasn't seen the real nick yet, the real monster she is on the inside ...

she doesn't want to have this debate again. for once, she doesn't want to chase off someone she's allowed to come in close.]

Nah, not 'til tonight. Gotta work at six, but that's a ways off, and I don't got far to go. Do you?

The night before the executions.

[itwasworthit]

How Will had convinced her to key him in? Who knew, but when he was drug away with Vergil and Mello, he expected they were really and truly fucked. They all knew the risks, they all knew what could happen, and yet he didn't ever really worry about himself. Until he was surrounded by guards. This was worse than when he was caught after a botched bank robbery. AT least then they just beat him and hung him and he got himself down later.

This time, it HURT, really hurt. Even with his healing he was still bleeding a lot as he ran through the rainy streets. He felt like he was a young man again running from being caught by the guards just before he was drug to the firing squad. He wasn't running to death tonight, but from it. He was soaked and bleeding badly as he reached her door and let himself in. As soon as he was through the treshold he hit the ground, on his hands and knees letting out the scariest kind of deep breaths, almost as if on the verge of a panic attack, water and blood pooling from him. "Nick!" He called as soon as he could gather enough breath. His body screaming for sleep while his mind screamed sleep meant death.

[metamorphotic]

Nick’s a night owl anyway, but it’s been nigh impossible for her to sleep more than an hour or so at a stretch since the warehouse. She hasn’t even bothered to try yet tonight, convinced that every single small creak of the old building is an Iteration sneaking in to capture her, so she’s wide awake and already heading for the living room by the time Will calls her name.

“Shit,” she says to the sight that greets her, then repeats the curse in rapid succession like a chant as she races toward Will and drops to her knees next to him, arms out to pull him up and support him. “Will! Will, stay with me - tell me what happened - where are you hurt?”

[itwasworthit]

He shouldn't have come but he didn't know where else to go. What else to do. He was hacking hard when she came up to him. Helping pull him up. At least he had always been light and small. A trait that saved his life more than once in the past. He moved both arms around her for support while trying to will his body to move with her.

"I'm dying, it'll pass, don't worry about it. Just help me get somewhere I won't stain." He spoke through the pain. He knew he would have to plain but right now it hurt to much. "I need some water, Nick." He spoke coughing again as he moved with her.

day two } mourning.

[metamorphotic]

[nick is sharply aware of the moment she starts to wake, because everything hurts. she groans quietly and turns over to bury her face into the pillow. she really drank too much, even with the nightbane-speed healing.

she’s really gotta stop doing this.

nick remembers something from the night before - not the horror of watching friends and comrades murdered in horrible ways, not the suffocating waves of guilt. something else. something better. with only one eye cracked open, she slowly turns on her side and fights down the feeling of disorientation.]

... Duke? You still here?

[exceptionalcrook]

[Duke hadn't slept much. He'd held Nick until she fell asleep, catnapped beside her and listened for the sounds of a nightmare, then woken up early and tried to find ways to occupy himself until she was up. That meant Irish coffee and flipping through Nick's records, knowing they'd need music later. Hopefully they'd be talking a lot. After he'd run out of things to do he'd grabbed a paperback from her bookshelf and settled down to read it, getting lost in it until he hears her call out.]

Still here!

[He rises and tosses the book into the chair in one smooth motion, peeking his head around her bedroom doorway.] Morning.

Important question. Aspirin hangover or Irish coffee hangover?

[metamorphotic]

[the sound of his voice calling back to her pulls up an unexpected, fluttering lightness high in her chest. she’s equal parts grateful and embarrassed that he stuck around through all of her bullshit meltdown. she’s not sure she would’ve made it through the night without duke by her side.

(it’s not bullshit, she knows that. but it feels somehow selfish to grieve for the dead while she’s still alive.)

nick returns his greeting with a long, pained groan. it’s morning? meh.]

Is “aspirin and Irish coffee hangover” an option? ‘Cause I think that’s what I got.

[exceptionalcrook]

So all of the above plus a greasy breakfast? I can do that.

[Bacon and eggs usually helped him when he drank too much. She'd need the food today too. They had a lot to get through. Day two was probably the hardest day. It was when everything started to sink in.]

How'd you sleep?

[metamorphotic]

Mm. Maybe just some toast for now. I can get it - in a minute.

[when she can actually sit up. which she makes a valiant effort at, but only manages a slight propping up on her elbows - enough so she can retrieve her half-empty bottle of water from the nightstand. the inside of her mouth feels like sandpaper, and she gulps down the entire rest of the bottle in one go.]

Slept OK, considering. Too drunk for nightmares, at least. [she recaps the now-empty bottle and places it back on the nightstand. she’ll deal with it later.] Um ... I really appreciate you stayin’ with me. Sorry y’had to see me like that. Thought I was gettin’ too old for that kinda bullshit, but apparently not.

[with a deep, loud sigh, she flops back onto the pillow and rubs a hand over her eyes.]

Hope I didn’t say anything weird last night. Or do anything weird. I, um ... I don’t exactly remember everything.

[and she knows all too well the kinds of stunts drunk nick tends to pull.]

[exceptionalcrook]

[So far this seems like a normal hangover. While uncomfortable and annoying, that was good: any normality was good right now. Normal was the easiest place to get back on your feet.]

Too old for what, exactly? Being upset? Nah. No one gets too old for that.

[Duke slips into the room and retrieves the empty water bottle, offering a hand to pull her up.]

The only weird thing you said was that you wished you were dead too.

[metamorphotic]

[she accepts the hand up to sitting, though she scrunches her eyes shut to counter the predictable wave of dizziness.]

Too old for gettin’ fucked-up drunk every time something shitty happens. [still holding onto duke’s hand, she drops her gaze down to inspect his upturned palm, slowly brushing fingertips over each crease in turn.] Y’know ... I always knew that wasn’t how everyone deals with their shit, but I didn’t care. I told myself that I didn’t spend every waking moment stumbling around in a haze like my mother, so it was fine. Everyone lets off steam sometimes. Maybe I just had more steam to let off than most people. [she makes a quiet noise of disgust.] Stupid. We’re not even blood related - I’m adopted, did I tell ya that? And I still always felt like I was doomed to turn out like her, a miserable drunk stuck in the same shitty little town where she was born ‘til the end of her days. That’s what happens to all the girls there - get born, grow up, get married to a boy they knew in high school, pop out a couple kids, and then just - wait to die. Maybe some of the guys’d get ideas about seeing the world, so they’d join up with the army and go get blown up somewhere else. But not me - if I was gonna die, it was gonna be somewhere a hell of a lot more interesting than Winchester, Kansas.

[nick gently releases his hand and glances up at him, blinking back tears but determined not to start crying all over again.]

I mean, can you blame me? For sayin’ that. Wasn’t exactly a new thought.