Locked in a Room

[dishevelment]

Who: Everyone stuck in Pride HQ
What: This load of crap.
When: Nov. 1-5
Where Pride HQ
Warnings: Pg-13 minimum because Carnies. Tag if it gets over that.


Everyone got the same call-- and now we're all stuck in HQ with no hint of release in sight.

The reason? No one knows.

How are you coping?

Comments

OTA - bracket style also fine.

[campioned]

Nov 2 @ one of the Pride lounges

He can smell it more than he can see it. Sharp. Coppery. Blood, something tells him. No, someone tells him. The man is covered in blood, standing over Alec, barely seen in the moonlight except for where the light glints on eyes and slick...

Alec starts, one violent twitch as he stands at the bar. He wasn't asleep: he's still on his feet. There isn't anyone standing over him; there's hardly anyone as tall as he is in the whole place. No one's covered in blood. He needs to stop imagining things and calm down. Drink less, or drink more. Either way, he tells himself, he has to stop letting what happened at the little funhouse bother him. That's what they want. They want to unsettle him so that his music suffers and they get to keep their place on the Pride ladder.

... but there was someone covered in blood, how else would he know how that smells...

The rest of the time period, at any given bar in the building or the Carnie suite

Alec has been subdued, but it's not a relief to any of those who watch his moods. It's a tense sort of quiet, because he's holding so much hate in that his skinny body might rip apart. He doesn't like the building being locked down. He doesn't like the booze in the apartment. He doesn't like the clubs in the building. He doesn't like the song he wrote. He doesn't like his band. He doesn't like any of the other bands. He doesn't like his shoes. He really, really, doesn't like the mental image that he hasn't been able to escape, no matter what he pours down his throat or screamed out of it.

He likes the drink in his hand, and the one that will replace it.

NOV 2

[notahobby]

Maxxie's just sitting down at the bar a few feet away, ready to drink away the anxiety of the whole hazing bullshit, the drama with his band, and some very strange memories he's already had. A hint of a life that's almost his, but not quite. He'd be curious if he weren't so upset about everything else, so he mostly wants it to go away.

He's settling in when Alec starts, and obviously it catches his eye. He hesitates before he says anything - this is Alec after all - but what the hell, Maxxie's feeling self-destructive anyway.

"Little too much?" he asks, nodding at the alcohol.

There's a touch of genuine concern in his expression, mixed in with his usual put-off frown whenever he interacts with someone who so stubbornly insists on being an asshole.

[campioned]

"No, and thanks ever so much for fucking off," Alec says, more to his glass than to Maxxie. It's noticeably lackluster though, without his usual sarcasm or vehemence. It's not a snap.

It bothers him that he can't place the source of the mental image. Alec prides himself on his intelligence - and that involves memory as well - and his ability to hold his drink. He doesn't often get so drunk that he can't remember what happened, and he wasn't actively drinking during the hazing so it's hard to force the memory to fit into the events of the hazing. Aside from what happened while he was under the hood, Alec has a solid, linear timeline of that night.

He can't make it fit. He also can't make Maxxie's concern fit into their pattern of interactions, but Alec can find that one out. "Why? Hoping you might get lucky?"

[notahobby]

"Just being nice," Maxxie says after a roll of his eyes, "you could try it some time."

He shakes his head and beckons the bartender over to order his drink, wondering why he bothers. Alec's a good musician, and maybe Maxxie has too much faith that karma wouldn't allow a bad person to have that much talent or success. Maybe he just has too much faith that no one's all bad, and he's just trying because he'd like to exchange a few polite words with someone who isn't a fan or part of his band. Fame's a bit lonely sometimes.

So part of him wants to end the interaction there, but the other part of him wants the last word. Once his drink arrives, he takes a sip and turns to Alec again, raising an eyebrow.

"'Sides, I don't have to get someone drunk to get lucky."

[campioned]

"Being nice gets you stomped on. It gets your wine watered, your pockets picked, and your teeth knocked out in an alley," Alec explains. If he could think of a reason to be nice, one that made the risks worth it, he would... probably be nice. Maybe. Nice is weak, though, and he's doing Maxxie a favor by explaining it to him. In an ironic way, that's nice.

Alec knows that everyone is partially a terrible human being. The only thing that varies is how much. "I don't remember saying you had to. Flashstep is popular with people who are, I don't know, touched in the head. I'm sure you could find some sober company. It just wouldn't be me."

[notahobby]

Maxxie lets out a silent laugh, looking down into his drink.

"What's that line about protesting too much?" he asks, and his smile's only a little bit smug; mostly he looks amused. Maxxie's not heavily invested in sussing out whether or not Alec really does want to sleep with him, but it's a fun game to play for now. Shaking his head, he adds:

"You brought it up, not me."

[campioned]

"Oh, that one that guarantees that what you're pointing out about the other person will never, ever happen?" Alec contrives to look and sound innocent. It would be easier if he wasn't dressed like he hadn't been to bed last night and if his eyes could hold eye contact for more than two seconds instead of sliding all around with alcohol lubrication.

He gives up and rolls his eyes dramatically. It almost causes him to slide off his stool. "I meant that I wouldn't sober."

Or that he's never sober. Really the same thing.

[notahobby]

Maxxie takes a sip of his drink, then casts a glance at Alec's. The corner of his mouth is still pulled up into a smirk and he raises his eyebrow. He's not nearly as drunk as Alec, but he could get there pretty quick if need be.

"That mean you're thinking about it now?"

[campioned]

Alec might be loose-lipped and boastful, but he can be a bit prudish when it comes to outright discussing sex and related topics. The flush in his face isn't all the alcohol. "I might be."

He is, and it's turned him pink. It's not a completely un-agreeable idea. Aside from previously mentioned attractiveness, Maxxie argues with him. Alec enjoys that.

[notahobby]

Maxxie tilts his head at him, the wry smile still on his face as he tries to interpret Alec's expression. It seems to be a genuine admission, which is surprising - Maxxie had assumed that even if Alec ever did express a desire to sleep with him it would be delivered as part of some backhanded compliment.

He doesn't show any awe that he might feel, looking down at his drink instead. Getting laid tonight might be fun, after all, but he has to play his cards right. He takes a long sip of his drink and follows up with a challenge:

"You gonna do anything about it?"

Let's do the thing! End of the da-- of the NIGHT, Nov. 5

[honeywithpoison]

[ Richard has been restless. It's been less full memories and more just snippets that he's been getting, and they've been leaving him strung up, high on adrenaline in a happy way, but still without a vent.

Most of the time, he practices. The majority of the time, with the drums, until the rhythms and ever melodies he aims for are perfect, in tempo and activity and volume.

After the unexpected realization at the night of the kidnapping, with something new, too. He's gone out and looked for a knife, instinctively picking a particular one which, once he was on his own and had a chance to work through handling it, got a good balance and convenient heft. But that's... Even practicing with that only takes so much of his energy away. So he wanders around the tower.

He doesn't drink much, but he also makes sure to appear in various places and not let people know he's way too sober. It's easy, when he's quiet, and makes an excuse to go to the next place when another round of drink is cheerfully suggested.

That's how he runs into Alec. Who looks even thinner than usual, and is so very drunk that there is not even a glimmer of recognition when the green eyes look up at him. Richard's eyes narrow, and his strong fingers wrap around the long fingers as they try to raise another drink to his lips. ]

I think this is enough for you for tonight.

[campioned]

[Alec looks thinner because he has been able to wear all black instead of fighting with stylists for mostly black during this little lockout - or lock-in. Although, without being at events and parties with endless pretty people walking by with trays of tiny foods both savory and sweet, it is possible that Alec has lost a pound or two.

He recognizes Richard when they bump into each other, but he's spent a good six hours getting everything soft and fuzzy and then maintaining that level of inebriation. His face, his eyes... they're no longer properly connected too his brain, which has also stopped processing time correctly. Alec is just quirking up one corner of his mouth and about to greet Richard, right after this sip, when Richard's hand closes on his and stops the progression of the glass.

Alec stares at the unmoving glass and their hands, trying to figure out why that happened. He can't believe that someone flagged him. Richard isn't allowed to do that. He's in Cosmic Indulgence; he has no say on when and what and how much Alec gets to drink. A scowl finally appears on Alec's face. ]

I think you need to back off.

[Alec will first try to pull his hand away, towards himself. When that doesn't work, he will try to thrust his hand forward, with the intention of throwing the drink on Richard.

[honeywithpoison]

[ Richard's hand, however, is strong enough to resist both options. He smiles, sweetly even. ]

Too bad that your thought process is a little bit under question right now. What if I have a better offer for you than finishing this drink? It smells foul, anyway.

[campioned]

[ The smile is attractive - disarmingly handsome, and Alec is impressed by how genuinely nice it looks. That's something his manager would love for him to learn how to do: fake a smile like he means it. The smile on his face now is tight and mean. ]

My thought process is better than anyone else's in the room.

[ Just... hampered by the slight slur in his voice. Alec is curious about the offer, but refuses to ask for the details. ]

[honeywithpoison]

[ Eyebrow. Arched. Even though the smile doesn't waver. It's more an expression of curiosity than doubt. Richard lowers their hands until the glass is resting on the table, and his thumb strokes along Alec's knuckles. ]

Now why would you think that?

[ Not pressing. Yet. ]

[campioned]

[ Alec doesn't like the control that Richard is showing. Stopping Alec's hand, moving it when he wants to, running his finger over it. He outright hates the man for getting him to react when he doesn't want to. It's only a small tremor the first time that thumb passes over his knuckles, but he doesn't like surrendering control of himself.

This also means he does his best to hide the reaction, because it's in letting someone know that they affect you where the real power lies. ]

I'm the smartest person in the room. I know it.

[honeywithpoison]

[ Richard was going for distraction, and it seems like he's getting there. Mostly. He slips into the seat next to Alec, silent, without permission - but since his intentions are not to take advantage of the younger musician, he's not too concerned about that.

Rather, he tilts his head. ]

I could get us both arguing for hours if I asked you to prove it, you know. I don't know what it says about either of us.

Still. I didn't think that's a title you were particularly interested in. It's not necessarily a difficult mark, most days, after all.

[campioned]

That we both enjoy a good fight.

[ There's a wry, appreciative twinkle in his eyes. Wry because it also says that Richard is as stubborn as Alec is - not that Alec will point out his own fault. He'll tuck away the knowledge that Richard is, in case he needs it later.

Appreciative, though, that's because of the insight and the little joke there at the end. Alec can enjoy the company of a philosophical Hobbes with a dim view of human nature. ]

I wish I didn't have the title. My life would be far more interesting.

let's say the 4th

[traumatizing]

Terry is... God he's so annoyed. Just so annoyed with everything in this entire world. He's tired and realistically he should just go to bed, but instead he finds himself in one of the lounges. Sighing, as though the concept of waiting to be served is just the worst in the world, he leans against the bar to wait until he can get the bartender's attention.

"You look cheerful." He doesn't particularly like Alec, but the guy's seemingly endless capacity to hate just about everything on a good day feels like a good companion for Terry's own mood right ow.

[campioned]

As his right hand is busy with the beer mug that is currently attached to Alec's lips, he half-assedly flips Terry off with his left hand. It's awkward and loose, but that just helps with the overall intent of the action: it's a good natured bird.

"I'm always cheerful," he says sarcastically, tone devoid of anything approaching genuine cheer. "Cheerful, beerful, what's the difference? Maybe if I get beerful enough, tomorrow I won't decide I need pants to stagger downstairs to this trough of bottom shelf alcohol."

[traumatizing]

Terry huffs a small laugh at the gesture and flags down the bartender to order his own beer. He slips into the seat next to Alec and leans on the bar. Tired, and it's obvious in his voice. "Dream big, huh?"

[campioned]

"I don't have much else to dream about," Alec says. The honesty of that rare moment of clarity shocks him. He hadn't meant to say the truth, but it was out of his mouth before he fully realized what the words meant.

He tries to recover from it. "Roof over my head, money's good for whatever I want - and I don't want much. I tolerate my band, and we have the best album of the whole company. No pants is the only place left to go."

Nov 4th

[stylistic_disloyalty]

Luci has always worn dark eyeshadow, but given she hasn't worn any makeup in the past four days it's safe to assume that she looks as if she had and she looks like shit. She emerges from her room, same sweatpants and shirt she was in yesterday, and goes to get something from the kitchen.

A quick glance registers that Alec is on edge, and he apparently hates whatever is in his glass (and maybe his shoes? He's glaring at them...). She pulls half a sandwich out of the fridge and looks over at him. "What happened with Lesedi?"

I just saw this because I am made of failure and eaten notifs.

[campioned]

Luci looks like Alec feels. Strangely, this doesn't make him feel any better. That his favorite/not favorite queen of the white has forgotten her makeup is only adding to the moroseness. He can't even manage the energy to insult her at this point.

"Lesedi wants me on a leash and preferably inside the fence." Alec snorts into his whiskey glass, sips, and makes a disgusted face. "If her yard had better drinks, she needn't bother."

IS COOL 83

[stylistic_disloyalty]

Luci raises her eyebrows, surprised that he didn't tell her to piss off. "I'll put in a word with the chef when they come back. Maybe they'll take pity if I use the right angle."

She helps herself to a seat near him. "That's all she wanted? She sent three men in suits to personally inform you of the lockdown?"