bitofalegend | (no subject)

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dakin,
in game

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All of it, this whole thing, is fucking mental. If she didn't know for a fact that there wasn't any acid or anything in her system, she'd swear it was one big trip, the aftermath of another overdose, but everyone she speaks to swears it's real and, well...you've got to start trusting some time, haven't you? 'Suspicious bastard' just isn't in Vod's nature - she'll leave that to Howard. Someone, some girl, took her to the clothes box, so she's managed to swap out the clothes she's been wearing for two days (clean knickers, thank God) and feels a bit more like herself, in skinny black jeans and torn cotton. She's even managed to find a passable pair of boots. It's something, at least.

Vod's always sort of thought of clothes like armour.

The sign over the door says that this place is called 'The Winchester', and it looks...a lot like a lot of pubs Vod's spend time in. It's definitely a start.
Now she just needs to get shit-faced.

And laid. Strapping one on? Would definitely be welcome.

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Dakin was already at the bar. Not because he wanted to get particularly drunk, but simply because he had nothing better to do and nowhere better to really be. He was bored.

Until he saw the new arrival.

"Took you long enough to find your way here."

"Yeah, well," says Vod, rolling her eyes and sliding onto the stool next to him, hooking the heels of her boots over the foot rest. She grins. "Gotta find the lay of the land, innit. See what's what."

"Not as if there's much to see." Dakin looked unimpressed. Not with anything in particular, and not annoyingly so, just generally unimpressed. "When I arrived it was London."

Clearly a better location to be greeted with, even if it had been Victorian.

"I dunno. It's better than Manchester," says Vod, fumbling in her back pocket for her fag tin. She's been told about the magic island shit, so the whole London thing doesn't phase her. "I was born in London. Same old, same old. Think I'll keep the tropics."

"It gets fucking boring after a while." He watched as she dug out the tin, throwing a -mostly subtle- appraising glance or two her way when appropriate. "Dull." Dakin didn't entirely mean to, but he managed to say it like Irwin. It very clearly gave the impression that no worse adjective existed.

She notices the glances, but doesn't draw attention to them, yet.

"Got to make your own fun then, haven't you?" she says, selecting an already rolled fag and slipping it between her lips, bending her head as she lights it. "Don't tell me there's nothing going on."

She takes her drag on her cigarette and then, after a moment, offers it to him.

Dakin accepted the cigarette, taking a drag before answering and passing it back. "Well, no one's gone off into the jungle with a pig's head on a stick if that's what you're expecting."

Edited 2014-01-11 20:01 (UTC)

Dimly, Vod knows that that's some literature thing, something for a book, something that she ought to know, but she's got no idea. Fuck it. She'll leave that sort of stuff to Oregon and fucking Shales.

"You're not really selling it there, mate," she says, taking another drag on her cigarette, tilting her head and smirking.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be." He answered the smirk with an eyebrow quirk of his own. (He had spent ages perfecting it in the mirror when he was fourteen. He felt justified in thinking it effective.) "We're all stuck here like it or not. I'm not the bloody estate agent."

"Alright, alright," she says, taking another drag on her cigarette. "Message received." She orders another drink for the bartender. "Still, seems like there's drink and drugs. Good looking people. Can't be that hard to make some fun."

Dakin shrugged, knocking back more of his drink and watching her all the while. "Well, there's that, but it gets a bit boring, doesn't it? The same things all the time. The same drinks, the same places, the same people..."

"Dunno, mate," says Vod, looking at him over the rim of her glass. "Depends what you do with it, I guess. S'when you've got to start being inventive."

She gestures for another drink. God, she loves free booze.

Dakin smiled. "Yeah? What would you do? Same drinks, same people, same everything every day. How would you be inventive?"

"Same thing as ever, mate," she says, grinning when the bar-man brings her her new drink. "Ain't what you've got, is it? It's what you do with it that counts."

On 11 January 2014 20:52, thesubjunctive - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

"There's one way to find out." Dakin decided to let it stand as it was; an invitation or a challenge or both. His drink was finished and it was time to start on a new one.

God, she gets off on arrogant blokes. She can't even help it. It's just fucking hot. She takes another drag on her cigarette, glancing to the side. "Oh? And what's that, then?"

"We could sit here drinking and talking til we just don't care anymore. Or you could could come back to mine and we can show each other how inventive we both are." He gave a charming, cocky smile. It rarely failed him. "Just thought I'd speed the process up a bit."

"Yup. Like it." Vod had been hoping he'd say that. She hands him the cigarette, knocking back the rest of her drink and then getting up. "Go on then. Lead the way."

Of all the things that Vod's got to be embarrassed about, sex has never been one of them.

Dakin quickly finished his own drink, stood and took a drag from the cigarette he'd been handed. All the while he kept some variation of that smile on his face. "It's not far."

"Even better," says Vod, flashing a grin, shoving the tin back into her back pocket. "I hate having to wait."

Not wanting to disappoint a little, Dakin kept the talking to a minimum as he led her down the -mercifully short- path back to his own place. (He refused to call it a hut. Especially when he was bringing a guest over for very specific activities.) He even held the door open for her.

"Home sweet home."

She likes a guy that doesn't talk; when she's in the mood to get laid, talking isn't exactly what she's looking for. She'll leave that for Oregon.

"Very nice," she says, glancing around. "You live alone?" Because that's got some implications, if he does. For content, like.

"Yeah." It's obvious that the place is too big for just him and there are still traces of someone else that Dakin's stuff continues to exist around. There are still things that are very much Scripps's Things and Dakin refuses to touch them as they gather dust. But other than the two of them it's empty.

"A couple of mates were here, but they're gone now."

"Yeah." Vod rubs the shorter hair at the nape of her neck. She knows what it feels like to have that sudden absence where, once, there were mates. Mostly, it's Oregon she misses the most. But she doesn't want to talk about it now.

"More room for us," she says, stepping in. "Haven't got to worry about bein' quiet."

"Good. I hate being quiet."

Though having Scripps around (maybe not in the next room, but still generally around) had been half the fun. Who was he going to tell about his sexual exploits now? Irwin? Burgess?

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