Demons in the Details|Adrienne/Victor, INACTIVE

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor took a deep breath, putting on a smile. "Yeah, but I doubt you'd want to sacrifice one of your blankets to me," he said. He looked back at his whiskey. The blood had disappeared. With a sigh of relief, he downed the rest of it. Maybe if he just got a little tipsy, he would get his mind off of it. She'd opened a soft spot.

"You want some more?" he asked softly, looking up at her with his head still down. He was beginning to get tired.

[rocky]

Adrienne shook her head no, but gestured towards the bottle.

"Help yourself," she told him. The adrenalin had kept her awake far later than she would normally have been, but the combination of the whiskey and the comfortable couch was beginning to take its effect on her as well. She was beginning to feel sluggish.

So much so that any quips about not needing a blanket escaped her, even. She stretched and unfolded her legs, the backs of her knees protesting as she did so.

"Have you always lived in the city?" she asked him, reclining again, once she had shaken out the cramp from sitting curled up. "I moved here five years ago. I'm from London, originally."

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor quickly poured himself a bit more, moving his elbow so that his arm was draped along the couch, near her shoulders. With another gulp of his drink, he smiled a little. "London, really? I could tell you were from somewhere around there. I've been there." He decided to add, "It's a nice accent, anyway."

Jesus Christ, what was he saying? Her accent grated on him. The whiskey must have been taking effect.

"Erm, I haven't always been in the city. My parents were from Vermont...lawyers," he said, and then paused to yawn, then cough a bit. The pepper-spray had almost worn off. "I lived in D.C. for just a little while."

He wasn't sure what she wanted; was she one of those that would sympathize with him? Would she like a more normal man? Did she want him to come from a high place? He'd done all three, and many more. He'd even gone far enough to tell someone that his dead love had been a whore, to appeal to the girl--who had happened to be a whore herself.

The drink was deteriorating his abilities to plot. That was never good.

[rocky]

His yawn set Adrienne off, and she yawned, too. When he reclaimed his seat she adjusted her position so she was a little nearer to him than she had been before, his outstretched arm crossing behind her near shoulder.

"So you moved here to get away from something," she guessed sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "I think that's why everybody moves here."

She was nudging him in the direction of telling her more about this girlfriend, but she wasn't honestly that concerned with it, if he didn't want to tell her. She was curious because he was an oddity. She was beginning to realise that under his handsome exterior (at least, she supposed he would be handsome, when he wasn't recovering from the effects of pepper spray) he was eccentric in a way she hadn't expected. She wanted to untangle him like a knot of yarn.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"New York isn't good for much else," he said quietly, taking a drink. "It's like one big, giant sinkhole. Or a body bag." Of course he would make that connection. "Like a graveyard, and about as cheerful as one."

Victor didn't plan on telling her anything; he didn't know her, he certainly couldn't trust her with something this personal. Certainly, it would make her softer toward him to hear about poor, young, naive Victor...coming home from the supermarket one day to find his girlfriend ripped to shreds in their own home. Rushing to her in a half-insane state and trying to piece her back together...

Everyone was.

But he never did tell that story to anyone but the cops...the closest he'd gotten was saying he once had had a whore as a girlfriend, that she was killed. She hadn't been a whore, no. In fact, she'd been a lot like him, and not the 'him' he showed to people. Whatever lurked in the empty space under his shell had been confused by her; she was so independent, albeit a little violent, but was appalled at the thought of killing someone. Wholly good and yet bitter toward society.

Victor looked back up at Adrienne. "And I assume you moved here for the same reason?"

[rocky]

"Oh, I just... hopped on a plane," Adrienne confessed, laughing nervously. He didn't seem the impulsive type, and she knew that her inward curl of self-consciousness meant that she liked him, or that she wanted him to like her -- she was often hard-pressed to tell the difference, if there was a difference, between the two.

He had that brooding... thing going on, she thought vaguely. Victor reminded her of a sultry, lurking stereotype she had seen in countless other romance novels. He had something lurking beneath the surface, she thought, though what it was she had to idea. He ought to be swooping around on the moors.

"I was travelling around, a lot," she added vaguely, and stretched, dropping her arm so that it draped over his. Adrienne wasn't normally so inclined to tiptoe around the prospect of getting closer to someone, but she was judging the mood in the room and she didn't think it was appropriate to shimmy up to him and dig her claws in (even though after two whiskeys, she was definitely thinking about it).

They made further small talk, covering some of the details of Adrienne's backpacking around Europe (she left out the majority of the gory details, she had seen more European ceilings than anything else), and then eventually, at some point past four-thirty in the morning, they had fallen asleep. Adrienne didn't know who had drifted off first, but she had woken about an hour later, her arms and legs both completely numb from sleeping in a sitting position, and she had closed the gap between them sleepily, for warmth.

She wrapped her arm around the barrel of his chest, squirming as she felt how cold and damp he was -- he'd had more whiskey than she, and he seemed oblivious, but she decided she was doing him a favour, keeping him warm. Her cheek was against his chest, and she groped around over her shoulder until she found another eiderdown, that was draped over the back of the couch,

She arranged it half-arsedly over the top of them, and then went immediately back to sleep.

The morning had come and gone by the time Adrienne woke groggily. She was firmly pressed against Victor, her legs curled behind her. He had slept the entire night in the same sitting position, and George had, at some point in the morning, elected to join the pile. Adrienne was sandwiched between them.

Ow, she thought, and wriggled indignantly to dislodge the dog. He went, reluctantly, and swept a pile of magazines from the coffee table with his tail as he did. Adrienne frowned sleepily.

Victor. Victor was still here. She checked warily under the blanket.

Fully dressed.

Huh.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

When she wiggled, Victor's ceiling-ward face twitched a bit, his eyebrows lowering so that he looked a bit irritated--the first signs of waking up uncomfortably. The arm over her shoulder shifted a bit, as if he were trying to figure out just what he was holding while in a half-sleeping state. Needless to say, he wasn't used to cuddling or being cuddled, as he liked his personal space.

With a murmur, he investigated her shoulders for another moment before he raised his eyebrows. In his just-waking state, he couldn't remember just where he was or why he was there, but he did remember something about a girl...

Victor half-opened his eyes groggily. They weren't bloodshot anymore, the frosty blue clear again. It took him a moment to focus, and then he blinked, raising his head so that he was looking down at her. He looked slightly confused a moment, as he didn't remember how she'd gotten into this position. It had been awhile since he'd woken up like this with all of his clothes on--and he'd never woken up like this with his clothes all soggy.

Well, maybe once.

"Hi," he said, clearing his throat of early-morning phlegm. His voice was rough and scratchy, but not as bad as when he had a mouth full of pepper. For him, it was a rather blunt way to greet her in the morning; usually he made sure that he got up before his girl and made her coffee or tea or something.

Victor glanced over at the dog, and felt a little thrill of triumph; the mutt had tried to scare him away yesterday, and now he was cuddling with its master. In your face, dog.

[rocky]

"Good morning," Adrienne said, rather unfazed by the entire thing. "Ugh. My apologies. Good afternoon," she corrected, and arched her back to stretch, making absolutely no move to vacate his personal space or otherwise alter their circumstances.

Instead she peeled herself away from him only to get more comfortable, now that he was awake there was little need to try to tiptoe around him. George tipped his head to one side and watched with distinctly canine jealousy as Adrienne prodded vaguely at Victor's clothes.

They were dry, in the sort of foul clammy way clothes were 'dry' when they'd been damp and left without a breeze to take the moisture out of them. She had absorbed a fair amount of the dampness herself.

"Still a bit wet," she noted, and then glanced up, to meet his eyes with her own. "You look better, though. How do you feel?"

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor had since moved his arm from her shoulders and back to the back of the couch, but didn't seem to mind her closeness. For now. He snickered a little at her mention of the time--afternoon, really? "Have I made you late for anything?" he asked, stretching a little himself.

Now that he could see her with completely clear vision, it was easier to forgive her little slip up with the pepper-spray--usually, by now, he'd be plotting her death. The little scare he'd had yesterday--that man knowing who he was--had been quietly taken care of, and so he felt a bit more generous than usual.

"Me?" he said, although she was clearly speaking to him. "I feel...well, a little clammy." Victor looked down at his very wrinkly shirt. God willing, he wouldn't catch a cold...but he probably would. "The pepper's gone now, I think."

He couldn't help but grin at her then, clearing some loose curls out of his eyes.

[rocky]

"Clammy," Ade repeated, and then laughed. "I think that marks the very first time I've woken up in this position and had a man use the word clammy. You are pretty gross, though."

She sat up then, tossing the blanket away. She was still in her jeans and hoodie, ugh. She stood up and tugged at the belt loops on her jeans to adjust them, regretting at once that she had slept in them. They had been cutting into her all night, and she knew she had an enormous red mark on her soft stomach.

"I'm not late, I'm missing in action," she added firmly. She wasn't going to the office, if Frank wanted late night escapades he could expect her to need to sleep them off, and fuck him otherwise. "All right, you can use the shower," Adrienne decided firmly. "I'll toss your clothes in the dryer while you're in there, and after that -- coffee. And something resembling breakfast, I have nothing. I live on crumbs and wine. I'll think of something."

She put her hands on her hips and gave him an encouraging smile. She had been a terrible host anyway, letting him fall asleep on the couch, in wet clothes. Letting him sit in wet clothes! Her head thumped distantly, and she knew she was suffering for a mild hangover.

She was impressed with his restraint, however. Most men would have made a move. Maybe he was gay. Maybe he thought she was hideous. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was the pepper spray, she realised. He'd been choking on it. That would probably put even the most voracious of men off.

She chose to believe in option number three.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"I think that marks the very first time I've woken up in this position and had a man use the word clammy. You are pretty gross, though."

...Just how many men? ...Victor decided to ignore that.

"Well, thank you," he said sarcastically, but lightening it with a chuckle; "That makes me feel spectacular." He felt gross. It took a lot of restraint not to show how mad he was at her, considering he had been cold and she'd cuddled with him; two things he hated most.

Victor peeled himself off of the couch and stretched a bit more, rubbing the back of his neck, which was sweaty in that special, terrible way skin was when you slept with wet hair.

"And something resembling breakfast, I have nothing. I live on crumbs and wine. I'll think of something."

He shrugged and said, "Coffee is fine with me...I don't eat much." It was true; Victor hated eating in front of people, especially in public. It seemed to him that restaurants were a modern waterhole--it just reminded him more harshly that they were all animals. He already saw most people as animals, but a select few were well-trained house pets. Maybe Ade would get lucky and climb up into that exclusive group, if she behaved and rolled over when he told her to. Then, maybe he'd give her a tummy rub.

He added, "But you should have something."

Victor turned his head, trying to remember where the bathroom was, and almost immediately saw the way that would lead him to it. "I'll head to that, then," he said, as if she were doing him a favor. He didn't like to eat around people, so how was showering in their house any different? God sakes!

He would do it, though, if it meant he could get to feeling less disgusting. He yawned and patted Adrienne's back, as if to say thanks, and then started off to the bathroom to undress.

[rocky]

"Chuck your clothes out before you get in there!"

***

Adrienne had never been particularly domestic. The dryer was all the way down in the basement and given her mistrust of the elevator, she was incredibly lazy about bothering to do any laundry. Still, she had bundled up Victor's damp clothes and took them down the stairs, the dog snuffling at her heels.

They had a little plot at the back of the building. It was concrete, but it was the closest they had to a garden, and George pee'd there most mornings -- which means there was one particular area of it that was completely discoloured. She stood out there and watched the dog snuffling around as though he didn't know every single corner of the yard by heart and as if he was indecisive about just where he was going to pee as the dryer spun.

As his clothes weren't all that wet, she had put them on a quick cycle. They were trudging back up the stairs within fifteen minutes, his shirt, pants, underwear and socks hot and tucked under her arm. She hadn't bothered to fold them, and she arrived back in the apartment unscathed.

She always considered it 'unscathed' if she made it all the way back up the stairs without seeing Mr. Kraut.

She dumped his stuff on the couch and moved to make coffee, then paused, and glanced towards the bathroom -- straining to hear if the water was still running.

"Victor?"

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor had been done with his shower about five minutes ago, and had occupied himself with looking through the things in her bathroom cabinets--he never told women this, but he always looked through their bathrooms when they took him home. It was easier to get to know a woman by her hygiene products than by sleeping with her.

And Ade certainly had a lot of condoms.

He shook his head a little, putting everything perfectly back in its place before he raised his head.

"Victor?"

"I'm in here," he called, grabbing a towel. He opened the door just a crack, so she could ear him better. "Pass me my clothes?" Victor was anything but shy when it came to being naked around women--even if she couldn't technically take a peek-- but Adrienne had put him in a rather awkward position, having him shower with all her girly soaps and whatnot. He probably smelled like a strawberry or something now. Ergh.

[rocky]

Adrienne moved lazily towards the bathroom door, tilting her head to pretend she was trying to see around it -- teasing him, really, though she wouldn't have minded a better look. She passed him his clothes in a bundle, raising an eyebrow.

"Nice boxers," she said, amused. They were plain, and didn't really give much away about him -- but it was in Adrienne's nature to torment people, she wanted to let him think she had been inferring something from them. She gave him a little smirk and turned away from the bathroom, and spotted immediately that he'd left his keys and his wallet sitting on a side table, by the couch.

She looked over her shoulder to make sure the bathroom door had closed again, and then scooted over to paw through his wallet. Cards. Griffiths, was his last name. A little cash. There wasn't much of note in it, save for a carefully folded newspaper article.

She unfolded it and skimmed it briefly, pausing. It was about those murders. The ones she'd been out in the park over. She thought that was strange. Strange, to carry such an article around in your wallet, and stranger still that he had it with him and hadn't been more inclined to discuss the murders with her the night before, if it was such a point of interest for him.

She shifted a little, unwilling to think the worst of him and yet unable to plausibly fill in the blanks. The bathroom door opened and she panicked, trying and failing to reset things before he saw what she'd been doing -- the result was an even more guilty look than it would have been if she'd just sat there and let him see her snooping.

She cringed. Whoops.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor held out one arm and took his clothes, hiding his lower half behind the door and smirking at her a little.

"Nice boxers."

"Why, thank you," he replied, and then shut the door with a soft click. He frowned once he'd closed the door, putting on his boxers and jeans before he went to go inspect that box of condoms. He moved aside some of the other things til he found it. Well...at least she kept these things hidden, right? Nevertheless, the box was already open, so he decided to look inside.

Empty except two.

"She's a slut, eh?" he muttered to himself, putting the box and everything else back in its place. At least she wasn't getting paid for it. And if she really was a slut, well, then....Victor would just have to see if she was the right kind of kill.

He opened the door while getting into his shirt, walking out. He opened his mouth to say something to Adrienne, but choked on his words once he saw what she was doing.

Going through his things!

Victor did not like to be touched...he did not like people to touch his things. He most certainly didn't like it when people rifled through his things, especially if they were secretive.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, sounding the tiniest bit urgent and definitely angry. Victor took the wallet off the counter, newspaper clipping and all, and held it in his fist. "Do I go through your things?!"

Well...he did, but she didn't know that...and she left the things in her bathroom out! His wallet was closed for a reason!