009 [video] Forward-dated to midnight, 3/17

[drinkthebleach]

[It's Pickles the Drummer from Dethklok, and he's being fucking festive right now, wearing a green T-shirt and his dreads pulled back underneath a darker green beanie. The bruises from the fight with AGI have even faded, by now (much to his appreciation)—they’re more of a pallid corpse yellow as opposed to that obnoxious purplish-black. He lights a cigarette with one hand and leans back.]

Okay. Everybody knows holidays suck an’ there's no point to any of them. There's only like, two that even matter: [Counting them off on his fingers.] New Year's Eve, an' this one right here. An' I know there's gonna be at least five or six culture-shocked dildos makin' videos askin' 'bout the green an' what's goin' on an' all that crap, which gets really annoying, after a while. I'm just gonna lay it all out for you right now. Saint Patrick was this dude a really long time ago that cleared all the snakes outta Ireland—that was important for some reason, I dunno. So now we all celebrate him by listenin' to depressin' folk music in bars an' drinkin' a crap ton of booze in one night. Everyone gets involved: even non-Irish dudes wear green an' get drunk. S' all about gettin' totally hammered, 'cause throwin' up is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual renewal, or whatever.

Big surprise, yer gonna see me passed out before eleven, tonight. An' then I'm doin' a total overhaul of my fuckin' life over here. So all this shit you see? [He tilts forward to take control of the NV again and swivel it around the room.] S' for sale. I’m leavin' this dump in the dust, an' I don’t wanna take anythin' bigger than a duffel bag with me. S' just the way I move.

[A long, almost contemplative drag, which he traps in his lungs for a couple seconds and then exhales through his nostrils.] Anyone need a TV? A chair, or whatever? I got a side table that has this little mirror-thing that comes out—I'll sell it to anyone that wants to do some coke.

If none of that interests you, I'm also givin' this up:

[Pickles sets his cigarette down somewhere off-screen (presumably in an ash tray) and reaches for an electric guitar. He brandishes it by the neck for everyone to see (and looks like Christmas in the process, with the cherry red instrument standing against his shirt).] This is a JS22R Dinky. S' not a Gibson, but s' not that shitty, neither. Chrome bridge. Heavy tone. Humbucking pick-ups, y'know. Round near the nut so you can finger the thing pretty good.

'S all yers—y'know. If you don't mind the fact that the dude that had it before died in a fire. I even thought 'bout burnin' his guitar too, I dunno. That's what I'm gonna do with whatever doesn't sell--I'm just gonna light it all on fuckin' fire, probably. Give it a viking funeral. I just figured waste not, want not, y'know? An' I could use the extra cash.

So yeah. [He lifts his eyebrows at the NV.] You gonna help me out, friends?

Comments

[drinkthebleach]

Jeez, I dunno how much these things run when they're new. Had to get the strings replaced, so it's in pretty good condition. I'd say 'bout eight hundred?

1/2

[ninthserenade]

_{[INTERNAL SPITTAKE.]}

2/2

[ninthserenade]

C-Can you meet me at six-fifty? Or seven?

[drinkthebleach]

[He makes a face and an extended sound in his throat, like he isn't sure.] Yeeeeeeeh. I dunno...

[ninthserenade]

C'mon, man! We're pals, yeah? 'sides, I bet we can work somethin' out to make up the difference! I gotta put some cash down towards rent on my place for the month.

[drinkthebleach]

[Blinking a couple times at that, because seriously, pals? If he was in a different mood, he might've given Demyx shit, but he loses interest. Whatever.]

Do you really know how to play? I mean, yer not just honin' in on this thing 'cause it's shiny an' shit? [It still wasn't his preferred brand, but Pickles got to know these guitars from other guys in the heavy metal scene--ergo he'd rather burn the thing than let another talentless hack touch it.]

[ninthserenade]

Jinx says I'm her best guy down at Purgatory, so... I-I mean, I do know how to play! I've been doing it for as long as I can remember.

_{[Even if it does sound empty to his own ears without his heart. To the people down at the club, he's pretty good.]}

[drinkthebleach]

I don't know who the fuckin' hell that is. [Another long beat.] Eh. Whatever. I'll tell you what: come on by an' we'll talk 'bout it in person. How's that sound?

[ninthserenade]

She's my boss at the club I work at. _{[He pauses to consider this, and then nods faintly.]} Sounds good to me. Where should I meet you?

[drinkthebleach]

My place down in Sector Nine. [Insert address here.]

[ninthserenade]

Be there in a couple seconds.

_{[And that's when the feed cuts out, but as Demyx said? About twenty seconds after he ended the call a dark corridor swirls to life outside of his door. Normally he would have just popped on in, but he didn't want to breach any boundaries with someone he was just starting to get to know. So, once Demyx makes sure he's presentable, he knocks on the door.]}

[drinkthebleach]

[Of course Pickles assumes the time estimate was rhetorical--how the fuck would anyone get from one separate place to another so fast?

But then he hears a knock at the door not even a minute after the feed closed. He jumps, and then he concludes that it has to be someone else because again--not physically possible for Demyx to get to his apartment so fast without being in the building to begin with. So he doesn't answer the first knock.]

[ninthserenade]

_{[He waits a few seconds, and then knocks again.]}

1/2

[drinkthebleach]

[He rolls his eyes and finally pulls himself up to tell whatever moron that was knocking that they had the wrong address. So when he opens the door and sees Demyx standing on his doorstep...

He just stares at him for a beat.]

[drinkthebleach]

[And then he reacts.] What the hell, dude! Were you just fuckin' standin' there this entire time?!

[ninthserenade]

_{[This is the part where he throws his hands up in defense.]} Eh? No way! Dude, I didn't even know where you lived before this so how could I be standing here the whole time?! I-I just left my apartment!

[drinkthebleach]

How? [Because he can't accept the idea that Demyx lived in the same building this entire time. That's just retarded.]

[ninthserenade]

I, uh...

_{[Rubbing his arm awkwardly, Demyx glances down at his boots as he thinks about how to explain it to Pickles. It was harder than he thought to come up with an excuse, so he just does the next best thing; he holds his left hand out to open up the same portal he used to travel over here.]}

Like that.

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles flattens against the right side of the door frame when the left side suddenly becomes a swirling, vertical black hole. For a few seconds he just stares at it, not even questioning if he was high, this time--he'd been in Siren's Port long enough to know better.]

Okay, yeah, I get yer point.

So it's like some kinda inter-dimensional puddle, you use?

[ninthserenade]

Close enough, yeah. It's one of the perks of missing your heart.

_{[He waves his hand to dismiss the portal.]}

[drinkthebleach]

Okay. [Lacking a heart gives a person the ability to create teleporting puddles. He can accept that.]

So uhh...come on in. [Pickles steps aside to let Demyx in.]

[ninthserenade]

_{[He steps inside with his hands in his pockets to look the place over.]}

How come you're movin', anyways?

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles locks the door and walks in front of Demyx to get to the fridge, crack it open, and grab three beers by their stout throats before he kicks it shut again.] Eh. A lotta things that ain't worth goin' into.

To be honest, s' been overdue for a while, though. I mean, this apartment sucks. You can see that. [He walks over and hands Demyx one of the beers (nope, doesn't matter if he wanted one or not, and if he wants to be pals, he's going to accept that damn beer).] I'd rather kill myself than keep livin' here like some miserable douche bag.

[ninthserenade]

_{[Gosh Pickles, are you trying to get the kid who has Never Touched Beer In His Life in trouble tonight? Demyx just stares at the bottle for a few seconds before he sits down on the couch and turns it over in his hands a few times. Just what the heck was he supposed to do with it...?]}

Uh... W-Well, Sector 4 has some pretty nice places. I can afford it just offa my salary down at Purgatory and it's pretty cozy. Two bedroom place, me 'n Axel have been living there since he got here 'n that's been since September, I think? We don't gotta pay for water, plumbing or heating really cuz of our powers combined. I got control of water 'n he's fire.

_{[Demyx, no. You're babbling again, stop that.]}

D'ya got a place lined up though?

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles loses interest in what Demyx is doing with his beer while he concentrates on his own, pulling the bottle opener off the magnetic strip hanging by the oven and cracking it open with a suctioned pop. The cap clatters into the sink.]

Not at all. [He presses the small of his back against the oven and sips his beer.] But y'know, s' not that big of a deal. I mean, either way I'm movin' somewhere in this city, right? I figure I'll just get outta here an' then pick a spot--or whatever. Who cares.