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Post by rocky on Jan 15, 2011 15:38:57 GMT -5
All her jeans had giant holes between the thighs. All of them. Adrienne didn't quite know what was worse, that she wore them through so quickly or that she allowed it to happen one at a time to every pair she owned before she bothered replacing them.
She did all her shopping in the Village. It was the place to find offensive t-shirts, over-sized hoodies, (fashionably) torn jeans, novelty belt-buckles and band patches -- and lots of studded leather, if you wanted it. She didn't, at least... not today. She kept her head down, her hat tugged low, her orange hair braided into two pigtails she was most certainly too old to be wearing. She had her hands stuffed in her pockets, headphones jammed into her ears (and blaring Wham, shamelessly) to block out the rest of the city.
She was distracted as she scuffed her way towards her usual haunt for denim products, half by the probability that the holes between her legs were big enough to see from the back and half by the emails she'd been reading in Frank's account.
Wake me up, before you go-go...
She wasn't supposed to have his password, and on some level she knew she was going to have to stop reading his emails, but it was too tempting. She wished every time she logged in that she would discover he'd changed his password, but he wasn't concerned about his personal security at all. She'd guessed it.
Don't leave me hangin' on like a yo-yo...
Frankfurter13. His personal nickname for his penis, plus size -- if you added at least nine to the actual number. She'd never been able to eat hot dogs again.
Wake me up before you go-go...
He was having an affair. With someone else, who wasn't her. Someone called Cindy, who worked in HR -- HR! HR wasn't sexy. They were all frumpy old accountants up there, weren't they? She hated that even though she hated Frank, he hadn't tried to start up with her again. She would have loved to chance to reject him, and the fact that he hadn't tried to rekindle their affair was bothering her because it made her feel inadequate.
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high...
And his ability to make her feel inadequate made her hate him even more. She was so busy trying to crush Frank under the bouncing vocals from George Michael that she didn't even look up as she stepped out into the road.
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing --
Wham.
The car only clipped the back of her -- the corner of the headlight struck her right buttock and sent her spinning and skidding across the asphalt. It was some slinky, vintage number -- bright red, and Adrienne didn't know the name of it.
Not that she would have been able to think of it, if she had. She landed six feet away and rolled, winded completely. All she could think was a stream of expletives that wouldn't come out of her airless lungs.
Some distant faculty reminded her that she had giant holes in her crotch and she absolutely couldn't a) lie on the ground or b) go to hospital with her clothes in this state. She moved stiffly and closed her legs, then sat up and looked around. Her hands were shaking and she was sure she had an enormous bruise on her arse, but she appeared to be otherwise relatively unscathed.
Son of a bitch, she thought, and staggered awkwardly to her feet, determined more to keep some semblance of her dignity than she was concerned for her health.
"What -- the fuck -- d'you think -- you're doing?" she wheezed in the general direction of the driver, then made a fist and pounded on her chest to try to force herself to draw a breath. "Asshole!"
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Post by merrill on Jan 16, 2011 16:05:27 GMT -5
Manhattan.
It wasn't a place you would normally find Two-Bit in. Though it had a good deal of lower class folks like himself, the place was far too classy to make him feel comfortable. Truth be told, he did prefer living in the grimy streets of Windrixville, a more natural environment for someone who prefers to use dark alleys and crime to cover up his own mischief-making. The only times he did get caught was when he'd been drinking a little too much.
Drinking a little too much was what he had been doing the night before, but he had struck gold in a game of poker and managed to score nearly three hundred and fifty. Tragedy did not strike when he left Charlie's with his wallet a little heavier than it was when he came in. There were no pissed off players hiding in the back alley waiting for him, but he knew they'd eventually come with accusations of cheating, well, because he did cheat.
He did not let these thoughts bother him, as he wanted to spend the evening in some higher class club with finer tasting booze and maybe he'd be able to afford a cigar or two. He only had a cigar once at his cousin's wedding and it was a whole lot like a cigarette, but much richer.
In addition, the chicks.
The high class ones, he meant. Even middle class would do. These girls were a change from the greasy gals he normally hung around with. Those girls were too easy, they wore too much make up and they talked enough to compete with himself. Though, there was Sylvia, and he'd always enjoyed their bantering...Two-Bit inwardly shook himself as he tried pushing the thought of his mind and clutched the steering wh--
WHAM.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, stomping on the brakes. The old, rusty car made a loud screeching noise as it jerked to a stop. He jumped out of the car, and tried to ignore whatever damage occurred to the junk-mobile. The last thing he remembered was a flash of orange hair and the figure of a woman go flying.
He trotted towered the fallen lady and felt a rush of panic hit him. "Shit, shit, shit!" he said, offering a hand to help her up. Ignoring the hand, the stricken woman staggered to her feet on her own, looking a little shaken. He felt a sigh of relief escape him when he realized that nothing was, hopefully, broken.
"Lady," he breathed out, keeping his arm out for if she needed any support. "I'm real sor--"
"What -- the fuck -- d'you think -- you're doing? Asshole!"
She had a British brogue and he took the moment she was telling him off to check her out. Not just for barely noticeable injuries. The flash of orange from earlier he'd seen was her hair, vaguely reminding him a little of Pippi Longstocking. Aside from the hair, the lady, unblemished by bruises, was definitely pretty. She looked to be in her late twenties, and couldn't be more than a decade older than him. Either way, she was still quite attractive.
He ran a hand through his hair with worry. Would she sue him? Get him arrested? Was it not an accident, though? "I'm real sorry," he apologized, "Do you need help to the hospital or somethin'? Uh, sorry again." To lighten up the situation, he added, "I'm just sayin', I don't normally go meetin' chicks this way."
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Post by rocky on Jan 16, 2011 17:17:53 GMT -5
She'd landed on her backside first, and there were two definite bruises -- one on either side, but she was otherwise unscathed, save for her throbbing palms where she had hit the dirt. She dusted her hands off, then inspected them for damage, her brow knitted.
She wasn't really listening to him at first, concerned more with checking herself for injuries -- and when she did catch what he was saying, she looked up at him with a mixture of indignation and confusion.
"I'm just sayin', I don't normally go meetin' chicks this way."
"Well, I hope not -- that would make you a psychopath."
She lowered her voice to a stage whisper at the last, as if she was telling him something in confidence, then curled her fingers under, to rub at her palms, and looked up at him. He was cute, and about sixteen or something, God -- was he old enough, to have a car like that? Probably not. He had that kicked puppydog look on his face, though. Exactly the sort of look she couldn't stay angry at, no matter how much she would have liked to.
The initial shock began to wear off, her thundering heart returning to normal, and with it she started to feel sore. She was going to regret this when she had to sit in an office chair all day the next day.
"Ooh," she sucked the air through her teeth, and moved stiffly over to the kerb, and ran her hands experimentally over the curve of her arse. "You certainly know how to make an impression. I bruise like a peach, I'll have you know."
What was she doing? He was far too young for her to even entertain. She was helpless to stop herself, though, and she gave him an arch look -- the sort of look that suggested he had better start thinking of ways to make it up to her.
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Post by merrill on Jan 16, 2011 18:17:06 GMT -5
Two-Bit watched as the woman inspected herself for any injuries that went unnoticed. Her palms were a little dusty, but that was dealt with. He briefly recollected the memory of the lady falling on her backside, but he wasn't obtuse enough to outwardly ask if it was hurting back there. He would have, if it were a chick that was more his type. It was probable that this woman was more higher class if she lived around here, and that was more probable, since she was walking. Though, not many high class chicks wore holes between their thighs...as Two-Bit was pretending not to notice.
"Well, I hope not -- that would make you a psychopath."
Two-Bit nervously chuckled with relief. She didn't seem extremely pissed off, but people were known to able to hide that. He also knew that he would be well deserving if she decided to get him arrested. Well deserving, maybe, but it still wasn't a fate that Two-Bit wanted to tempt. After all, it's only been a month or so since he'd last been in the slammer.
He couldn't help smiling a little at her comment, as it was something nearly unpreventable. "If it works for the psychopaths, I don't think I would mind doin' so," he joked, "especially if it means meeting pretty gals like you." Subtle as ever, he couldn't resist the flirting. It was in his nature and like his smile, it was also inutile to even try to prevent.
He followed her to the curb and winced when she moaned out of pain. He observed as she ran her hand over her arse and wondered how much it was hurting. "You certainly know how to make an impression," she said, "I bruise like a peach, I'll have you know."
"I do tend to leave lastin' impressions," he replied, the joking tone returning. "Not just physically." He paused and approached her. He didn't realize how much shorter she was until now. "You sure you don't need to go to a hospital? Maybe, I could drive you home, at least. I'm sure it'd be a great deal of pain to walk home."
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Post by rocky on Jan 16, 2011 20:24:52 GMT -5
"Are you hitting on me? ...Again?"
Adrienne had an incredulous sort of smile on her face, an expression that said she couldn't quite fathom his audacity, but that she didn't much mind it, either. He couldn't do much for the bruises on her arse, but her bruised ego was feeling better already.
"And -- I've seen your driving, so you'll forgive me if I choose to avoid it in the future," she added, and tilted her head to look past him, at his car. It was unscathed. She licked her lips and looked up at him, an expression of calculated innocence on her face. He was young, and handsome, and she didn't mind remotely letting him pay attention to her; there wasn't an innocent bone in Adrienne's body, and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted, if she wanted it -- but this time....
She had already decided to let him chase her, if he was going to. There wasn't much that would be more embarrassing than being rejected by someone easily a decade younger than she was -- not that he seemed all that concerned.
"Got any better ideas?"
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Post by merrill on Jan 18, 2011 1:43:34 GMT -5
"Are you hitting on me? ...Again?[/b]"
Two-Bit chuckled, a laugh that lost whatever nervous strain it had. The lady was a good sport; save for a few curses, she didn't seem to be willing to unleash the FBI on his ass...yet. He wouldn't exactly call it directly 'hitting on her', well, he would, but his attempts were more or less to lighten the situation. Flirting with attractive woman, as noted, came more easily than not flirting.
He lazily shrugged and his grin did not falter. "I guess you can call it that," he said, rubbing his hand. "If psychopaths do this all the time, I suppose that'd make them kinda smart, if it means meetin' pretty chicks. It would save folks the trouble of tryin' to get the guts to talk to them."
"And -- I've seen your driving, so you'll forgive me if I choose to avoid it in the future."
Two-Bit laughed at the remark and didn't blame her for saying so. He was, in general, a good driver, but he was always tackling issues of shot carburetors and brakes. Another damaging disadvantage were his tendencies to get easily distracted. Otherwise, he was decent, and his experience on dealing with those vehicle malfunctions helped a little.
"Got any better ideas?"
He felt an eyebrow begin to rise a little when he realized that she was returning the same attention he was giving. He quickly surveyed the street around him and took in his environs. A neat-looking building loomed at the edge of the avenue caught his eye. "Well, under normal circumstances, I would've gotten a drink," he replied, folding his arms. "And that is what I was intendin' to do, anyways." Yes, very subtle, Mr. Mathews.
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Post by rocky on Jan 18, 2011 16:12:58 GMT -5
Adrienne might not have been so good a sport if he had been older or shorter, or in any way more flawed. She was as much against being judged for her looks as any modern woman ought to be, but it didn't keep her from hypocritically casting the same eye over any man that crossed her path.
Nor did it keep her from feeling hypocritically bolstered, that he was looking at her that way, and that he had yet to call her ma'am, which she had swiftly discovered, living in America, that she despised.
"I could go for something to dull the pain," she suggested lightly, and mentally added and my inhibitions. She knew perfectly well that she would lose anything resembling shame if she just had enough red wine, she was a giggly, cuddly drunk - the sort of giggling, cuddly drunk that would sit on strangers on the subway.
She tried not to look as sore as she felt. It was going to take a concerted effort to conceal her inevitable limp, because there was nothing sexy about hobbling around like an old lady.
Adrienne knew better than to collect a post-pubescent youth from the street and seduce him, really, but it didn't mean she wouldn't let him try to impress her. He was so cute, and she was so in need of a little positive attention.
Fuck Frank.
Well. Maybe not, as if one was to look at the chain of events that had led to this moment, it was what had started the downward spiral in the first place. But fuck him in the entirely non-sexual way.
Fuck Frank -- spiritually.
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Post by merrill on Jan 24, 2011 22:26:49 GMT -5
"I could go for something to dull the pain," she suggested, and began to walk, trying to disguise the hobble.
Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow and smirked, but without mean intentions. It was a playful smirk, he was enjoying himself, through and through. Being the gentlemen he is, he sauntered to her side and placed her arm around his broad shoulders. She was inches shorter than him, and he had to lean a little forward to properly adjust her weight against him.
He wasn't all exactly sure why he was bothering. There was the fact that she was attractive; however, there were younger chicks out there. He wasn't the most picky (though, he did have a preference to blondes, but on a subconscious level, he was attracted to anything of the female gender and had a pretty face) and he would never pass up a chance to get a lady drunk. However, there was the fact she was already sore. He would be taking his chances to get drunk with her.
He'd never spent much time with women out of his class-- as in, the higher class ones --and it felt like quite a change, not necessarily for the worse. After that incident with Sylvia, it felt good to be back on his game. He never enjoyed drama and had always been more partial to the party, drinking and the careless type of life.
"There's a classy bar nearby," he replied, "and I'll pay for drinks. I do owe you, after all." He slapped his jacket's pocket where his wallet was kept. "We can just walk over there and get ya somethin' to rid you of that pain." And maybe a little more, he internally added.
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Post by rocky on Jan 26, 2011 5:54:00 GMT -5
"Classy, hm?"
Adrienne wasn't often given the impression that somebody thought she was better than they were, in that sense. She wondered if it was her accent that made him think so. Either way it was amusing and endearing, and she elected at once not to bother correcting him on the subject. She was well-paid and, she supposed, at least middle class. She just didn't much act the part.
"Sounds good," she agreed, and then grimaced, as she tried to move. Oh, she was going to regret this far more later, she was already starting to feel stiff and she knew perfectly well she was bruised.
Still, the thought of going to the emergency room did not appeal to her in the least. Most women Adrienne's age would have been furious at the young man for hitting them with a car, and if he had hit anybody else he would have certainly found himself being interviewed by the NYPD -- Adrienne, however, was a vain creature. She didn't want to go to the hospital and admit it was her arse that she'd landed on the hardest.
She was also a little weird about hospitals. She didn't want to say scared of, but they made her shudder. And she couldn't handle needles.
"Alright, I'm going to have to lean on you," she decided, not entirely for medical reasons, and took his arm. "Lead the way."
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Post by merrill on Jan 29, 2011 10:05:49 GMT -5
"Classy, hm?"
Two-Bit shrugged a little with a little smile. "Yeah, it's better than some of the places 'round Windrixville or that are in general," he replied. "They play a lot of shi-terrible music and serve cheap booze." He caught himself from making imprecations. As a young child, Two-Bit was taught to keep his mouth clean around women, and nice ones at that. It would be different if it had been Sylvia, or even Kathy because they had enough mouth to keep up. Well, this one right here could compete with the way she reacted to when Two-Bit had hit her with his car.
"Alright, I'm going to have to lean on you," the woman said, using Two-Bit's shoulder as a support. "Lead the way." And led her, he did. They sauntered, and limped, down the avenue towards the bar. Two-Bit had never picked up a chick this fast before. It wasn't as if he was bad at it, it was simply because some ladies dug him while others would dump their drinks down his front.
"I haven't properly introduced myself," said Two-Bit, shifting his position to properly enable himself to carry her weight. She wasn't heavy, that's for sure, but the height difference was a slight impediment. "The name's Two-Bit Mathews, Accident Instigator Extraordinaire."
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Post by rocky on Feb 1, 2011 9:52:31 GMT -5
"Two-bit?"
That had to be ebonics or some sort of nickname, right? Nobody looked down at a newborn and said they were going to call him Two-bit. It suited him, though, she realised as she looked up at him. He was sort of young, and cute in that -- rebellious sort of way he was trying for.
"Is that your real name? I'm Adrienne. Adrienne Heart -- ow -- and I'm normally much more graceful."
That was a direct lie.
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Post by merrill on Feb 3, 2011 12:34:45 GMT -5
"Is that your real name? I'm Adrienne. Adrienne Heart -- ow -- and I'm normally much more graceful."
Two-Bit shrugged, and replied, "It's the one I've had since I was twelve," and provided no clarification. The obvious meaning was because he always had to give his two-bits worth. The ulterior meaning was, he personally hated his real name-- Keith --since it was the same one as his father's, the asshole that abandoned his family years ago. Nevertheless, Two-Bit never dwelled on the past.
"Don't worry, I ain't expectin' you to do any pliés or fancy dance moves any time soon," he said, and nearly added something dirty there, but he casually reminded himself that a chick this class wouldn't want to hear that kind of shit.
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Post by rocky on Feb 11, 2011 14:43:08 GMT -5
"Well... good," Adrienne grinned. "My dancing skills are ropey at best, never mind after a car accident."
Since he was twelve. When was that, two weeks ago? He seemed so young! Adrienne hadn't missed the feel of his arm, though. Young and solid. She felt suddenly like a dirty old lady, but she was undeterred. When they had handed out the shame she had clearly been at the back of the line.
"So. Where are we going? If it's any further I may need ... aerial assistance."
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Post by merrill on Feb 13, 2011 14:07:52 GMT -5
"So. Where are we going? If it's any further I may need ... aerial assistance."
Two-Bit chuckled. Man, this chick sure was a good sport and the accident didn't seem to affect her sense of humor any. He liked that in a woman, and despite his knowing on how much of a goof-off he could be, he had an affinity for the easy-going ones. It was more simple that way, and he never did enjoy the company of the angry, uptight ones.
He raised his hand and pointed at a building with smooth, marble walls. The neon signed distinguished it as, "The Way Out". "You can hold that request," he said, "'cause this is it. It's a pretty decent place." Not that he would know, but she didn't have to know that.
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Post by rocky on Feb 21, 2011 19:17:17 GMT -5
"Maybe I'll take a raincheck on the aerial assistance, then."
She smirked. Only Adrienne could take something like being hit by a car and turn it into something completely different. She let him lead her into the bar almost as though it was a courtesy to him, to let him play at being the gentleman.
She elected to stand at the bar rather than take a table, though, and it was entirely because she didn't know whether she'd be able to sit down. She noticed the bar tender eyeing Two-Bit warily, and she smiled at him.
"Two beers. Something imported," she said sweetly. Somewhere at the back of her mind she wondered what the hell she was doing. There was no way he wasn't under age, the difference was just how much.
"How old is he?" the bartender asked suspiciously.
"Oh, this always happens. Do you have your ID, darling?" she affected a more comfortable stance with him, as though they were a proper couple [though a couple of what remained to be seen]. "Babyface," she explained, as though it were an utter inconvenience in their very grown-up, important lives.
Two-Bit better have something to prove he wasn't about fifteen, she thought.
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