Demons in the Details|Adrienne/Victor, INACTIVE

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor coughed up a little water, gawking at her like she had two heads. The fool had just fallen over, and now they were both soaked, and she was laughing? Yes...yes, he supposed that pain amused some people...in a different way than how it amused him, of course.

He watched her a moment, blinking out the last bit of blurriness for now--he could see quite a bit more clearly than before, finally getting a good look at his little kidnapper. The girl was beautiful, that was for certain, and had a little curl in her smile that reminded him more or less of a jungle cat. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being stuck with her awhile.

Victor accepted the towel, frowning down at the crotch of his jeans, now dark blue and spreading. "Urghh," he said, but couldn't stop a little smirk from escaping as he awkwardly patted himself down. As he was doing this, he told her, "You know, an hour ago, if you had told me I would end tonight sitting on some girl's bathroom floor, half blind and soaked to the skin, I would have directed you to the nearest loony bin."

[rocky]

"I would be perplexed to discover you had the directions to the nearest loony bin memorised," Adrienne pointed out. "I might have sprayed you anyway."

She brought one shoulder up under the pretence of coyness, and then looked for a dignified way to extract herself from him. There wasn't one. She had to jam her elbows on the top of the toilet and and use them to lift herself from the floor. She struggled for a moment to find her feet, and when she had, her gaze dropped without a hint of subtlety to the damp patch between his legs.

She wasn't doing it intentionally. Half the time Adrienne didn't even realise she was flirting, it just sort of happened. Inexplicably. She didn't have much of anything she could offer him instead of his jeans -- she was shorter than him, and hippier, and there was no way a pair of her pants would ever fit him.

And she had hacked up everything Frank had left behind.

"I'm guessing you don't carry spares," she said, her tone musing, "I have a dryer -- although, at this rate I wouldn't rule out the possibility that it'll light itself on fire. Maybe best not to risk it."

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"I'm not sure what exactly you would expect me to wear while we waited," Victor said, looking up at her with an amused expression, one eyebrow cocked. He noticed where she was eying him and followed her gaze, then looked back up at her. "See anything you like?" he asked teasingly, trying to get out of his uncomfortable position.

He had never been in this situation before, but he imagined that most women would respond in the same way. He was predisposed to not like her anyway, and now he was soaking wet in her apartment. He actually wasn't so angry about being wet--he'd been wet before--but it was a terrible inconvenience, and only meant he was colder.

And now she was checking him out. Sigh.

[rocky]

Adrienne snorted incredulously. What? She wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, but he was distinctly lacking in subtlety, whichever way he was trying to string it.

"Wear your wet pants," she told him, with an air of mischief about her. If he wanted to play he had to play properly, there was no skipping to the end; she may have been incorrigible, but she wasn't going to let him direct her to his penis like a crossing guard.

"I'll get you something plastic to sit on, shall I?" she suggested nonchalantly, "or I could offer you a bathrobe. Your choice."

She was soaked, too, and she put one hand on her hip -- hovering in the doorway. She was going to change, and if he wanted to take his pants off and wear a fluffy pink bathrobe for an hour... he could.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor grinned inwardly, though he sincerely hoped that she hadn't taken him seriously. As of now, there was nothing in the world he would have wanted to do less than sleep with her. Maybe his little comment would teach her to control herself, the whore. Of course, he wouldn't treat her any different, as all women were whores--this couldn't be helped. He did find her amusing though. At least he wasn't stuck with some bubbly idiot.

"I'd rather not wear your robe, if it's all the same to you," he said with a decided nod, still trying to pat himself dry with the towel. It wasn't going to work, obviously, but an attempt couldn't hurt right?

Well, it couldn't hurt, but it was pretty useless.

He turned his head to look in the mirror a moment, running a hand through his wet hair. His eyes were bloodshot, which caused him to frown rather angrily. "I look like a drug addict," he said unhappily, more to himself than to her. But it was true.

[rocky]

"Hmm, well. Call me heartless, but I'm not going to sit here in wet clothes to keep your misery company," Adrienne said, still teasing him, a little, though it was apparent that she considered their little splash-party an ice breaker.

She disappeared around the corner of the door, calling out to him as she padded towards the bedroom: "There's whiskey in the kitchen, you can help yourself -- provided you get me one while you're in there."

She closed the bedroom door behind her, but George -- on her heels the moment she emerged from the bathroom, nudged it back open and slipped through. Anybody else might have noticed, but Adrienne was so accustomed to the enormous mutt following her that it barely registered; the door was half open.

Not enough that anybody scrupulous wouldn't be able to avoid seeing her, but, if he were so inclined, her unexpected guest could have quite the view, if he chose the right place to stand.

She stripped out of her jeans and then started looking for something else to wear -- something that wasn't lying in a crumpled heap, strewn around the room. Her choices were limited.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor started toward the kitchen, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. He held back a bit, craning his neck to ask her how she took it, but getting a full view of her backside instead. He took a moment to recover from the shock, and then another moment to examine the suspicious and very defined bruises that were there. He wanted to ask about it, but it hardly seemed appropriate.

He cleared his throat, leaning back into the kitchen and called, "How do you take it? Or would you just like me to spill it down your front at this point?" He smirked a little, going toward the whiskey that was in plain sight. The curling of the paper at the edges indicated frequent use, and recently, which made him snort.

Victor poured some for himself while he waited for her response, and then proceeded to inspect the damage done on his pants further. They were jeans that he had just thrown on for walking about at night, nothing that really would be a cause for concern, and it was just water. The experience had pissed him off more than the consequences. Didn't the damned woman know how to pour water? He had no idea that she'd tripped, as she hadn't mentioned it. At least the pepper-spray side-effects were beginning to cure themselves.

[rocky]

At the sound of his throat clearing Adrienne spun on her heel, realising the door was open -- but he was gone from view before she knew he had been looking. She pressed her lips together suspiciously, but couldn't very well accuse him if she hadn't witnessed it.

She crossed the room to the door and leaned around, keeping her lower half hidden around the corner.

"Straight, with a tiny bit of water in it," she advised him, then gave up the search for acceptable clothes. There was no guide for this situation -- she picked a pair of sweatpants and slipped into them quickly.

She tightened her ponytail. There was no real way to tell when this evening was over, either. What were the social cues for this sort of thing? She reappeared in the doorway appropriately covered, and then took in the state of her apartment as if for the first time. Oh, shit. He can see now!

It wasn't that bad, really, but she hadn't been all that careful about concealing her underwear lying around.

"I should -- um -- clean up," she said, a little too brightly, and quickly started to gather up anything she thought might be completely inappropriate for a stranger to see. She would be lucky if there was anything left in the room, by the time she was finished.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

He poured her whiskey how she liked, tapping the counter a bit while he waited. Should he turn? She was probably decent, but from what he'd seen, her house certainly wasn't. Victor felt like he should probably say something instead of just sitting there, dumbly, in the awkward silence.

He peeked behind him to make sure all of the undergarments were picked up before he said, "It's alright, can't be any messier than my apartment." Untrue statement.

Victor hesitantly turned, not sure if she'd be angry if he looked around anyway. He drunk his whiskey thoughtfully, examining the place before he pushed off of the counter and started to examine her stack of movies absentmindedly. He turned the first one over and was confronted with Mr. Barlow's face. So she liked horror.

"Salem's Lot," he said thoughtfully, turning it back over. "You like gore?" She didn't seem like the type, but you never know.

((Sorry for that little godmod. I felt like confronting Victor with Mr. Barlow somehow.))

[rocky]

"I like horror," Adrienne said, and swirled the whiskey in the glass a little, watching him. She didn't protest his curiosity, and nudged George from his position on the couch. She curled one leg underneath herself, and settled comfortably.

He looked a little the worse for wear, given the night she'd put him through, but he was handsome, in a sort of dark and brooding way she had thought didn't really exist. She had the sense that there was something he wasn't telling her straight away, and she hadn't ruled out the possibility that he was married.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked mildly, choosing to phrase it a little more tactfully. He had, thus far, never really responded to direct questions about himself, so she thought that phrasing it as an opinion question -- aimed at her -- he might tell her something more readily.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor looked up from the movie covers to her, smiling a little. "Not at all," he told her quietly. "A little mindless violence never hurt anyone." He lifted a few more of the movies, seeing The Shining there too. "Nor psychological horror!" She must be a Stephen King fan, he thought, or else just on a King kick.

He stood up straight again, deciding that her moving the dog was an invitation for him to sit also, but he didn't, considering his wet pants. "I like horror too."

Victor wondered why he'd bothered telling her this, but, he supposed, chatting mindlessly was the only thing they could do now. He was cleaned up--really cleaned up--so what else was there to do but talk?

He barely kept himself from snickering at that thought. He looked away, trying to push the image out of his head; Adrienne, screaming for help, his knife hilt-deep in the flesh of her stomach or thigh or something. A jolt of electricity went through him, but he gave very little visible signs of it.

[rocky]

Adrienne laughed, and shifted a little -- tugging a tartan blanket, that was normally reserved for the dog, to cover the empty half of the couch. Then she gestured that he could sit there, if he wanted, with a flick of her hand.

"I suppose not," she said, with a little shrug. She had a large collection of horror -- everything from Halloween to I Spit on Your Grave. She had slasher films, monster films, zombie films, Hitchcock films -- she had an eye for mindless splatter.

"So you see why my imagination plays tricks on me," she said, and bit her lip, smiling. "Too many horror movies. I'm always yelling at the screen when the women in these things run up the stairs instead of out the door, or they call their friend instead of the cops -- I figured I wouldn't be that girl."

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor sat, leaning back and turning his head toward her. He scoffed a bit when she started talking about the idiotic women in slasher films. That had happened to him a couple of times, interestingly enough...and then it was just a matter of cornering them in the bedroom. But he reserved things like that for prostitutes with homes of their own, for a treat--it was rare that he got to spend all the time he wanted on a girl.

"In the heat of the moment, are you fairly certain that you wouldn't do that?" he asked, shrugging. "Panic does crazy things to people." He adjusted himself on the dog blanket, watching her with raised eyebrows and taking another gulp of his whiskey.

Panic did do crazy things to people, he'd found. In that moment where you raised the knife, they became sniveling, begging creatures, intent only on saving themselves and nothing else. He had been offered many things in exchange for mercy, but he usually grew tired of their begging, and killed them straight off. The look in their eyes was good enough for him. But every now and then, when he knew no one could hear them, he would let them whimper and beg...it only added to his pleasure.

[rocky]

"I panicked in the park and I completely incapacitated you!"

Adrienne turned her palm up incredulously, gesturing with the whiskey glass, as if to challenge him. If he'd been about to hurt her, he wouldn't have succeeded -- he couldn't deny that.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"True," he grumbled, examining her with a smirk. Now that he had cooled over, he could enjoy her company--and it was quite enjoyable, he was finding. She wasn't bad looking either, as he'd observed earlier.

"But you had pepper spray," he said, sitting up a little and turning toward her. "If someone broke into your house and chased you around, you'd just want to get away from them!"