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Summary: A random encounter between Niki, Bobby, and Angelo. In the morning after, a hung-over Bobby and a neighborhood with frozen cars and buildings.
Date: February 23, 2010 1:20AM
Log Title Drunk and Disorderly. And Frozen.
Rating: R for language
NYC - Hell's Kitchen
The rough neighborhood in Midtown West New York known as Hell's Kitchen almost has a darker tone to it. Once you step into this neighborhood the city takes on a different feel, the buildings are shorter but everything feels darker. There is real grit to this part of town where many of the New York City criminals see to make their home.
"Y'know what? Up yers. Yeah— yeah, you, Miss Tits. Yer Irish Car Bombs SUCK. And YOU," The the boisterous female didn't get to finish her crack on the bar's agitated bouncer before she was shown the door with a not-so-delicate thrust to her shoulder. The man grunted, but wasn't apologetic about the slight girl ending up sprawled into a crusty mound of soiled snow next to the sidewalk. "Don't 'urry back, girlie," he said to her before he turned back to the nameless bar. Nikita gurgled under the street light before righting herself against the post. She flashed a naughty finger at the man's back. "Whatever," she slurred and hiccupped. It was late in the evening, and not many were around to witness the woman squinting and cursing as she tugged at the zipper ends of her jacket, trying vainly to get its ends to connect through her hazy mind.
Ange has friends in low places, and in this case he had a friend who needed some help moving stuff out of his roommate's room. The guy vanished during the recent infernal intrusion, and a month later, it's all going into storage. He pulls his nylon EMT jacket closer around him against the cold and steps down from the stoop and almost onto the woman who is being challenged by the zipper. Tiny evil zippers, Angelo remembers them well.
He violates the Rules of NYC because it's night and nobody wants to trigger someone's Mugger Sense. "Hey, you need help there, lady?"
Bobby really has no reason to be in the particular place he is currently in; Bobby likes to wander, and in this case he just so happened to end up in Hell's Kitchen, for some reason. Funny the places you end up when you just sorta…walk. Noticing where he is as he approaches the bar, Bobby simply grins to himself and shrugs. "Hrm. Gotta love the area…" he mutters. At that moment is when the door opens and Nikita is so unceremoniously tossed out on her keester. Bobby pauses right before she runs into him, and as she struggles her way up, he merely eyes her curiously. Jamming his hands in his coat pockets, he gives the girl a nod. "Hey. The 'tender givin you trouble?" he asks, not really having any clue as to what exactly happened. "Having a bit of trouble with your jacket there, eh?" Bobby glances up as he notices Angelo there as well. He smirks lightly. "Wow, is there like, a people magnet in that pole right there or something?"
For a moment, Nikita has a nagging feeling that the zipper is trying talking to her, and this makes her very angry. "NO! Goddemnit, fuffk you," she replies to it hazily, but the flush of rage is just as quickly vanquished when the zipper connects. "HA! That'll… yesh, shtupid bitch," Nikita replies absently to Bobby, though she feels more like she's talking to herself. "… Oh, huh?" She staggers a moment, and stares glassy-eyed at Angelo as though just noticing an anomaly in her vision. The edges of her slack lips suddenly turn upward into an awkward, sleazy smile. "Haa-/haaaa/. Well… I meansh— maybe. All 'pends what kinder 'elps ya be offerin's, 'anshome."
Ange seven months ago? Would have to get drunk himself to match, but hey, cute waify blonde girl is cute and he's tempted to reduce his Kinsey number again. But he would SO not be there in the morning, and something tells him that she'd probably sober up before anything really good happened. After his first flash of interest. Damnit.
He looks up at the approaching guy and the smile fades down a little, not entirely gone. "Yeah, that's one of dem jumpin' lamp posts, dey come out at night an' prey on us late nighters."
Bobby raises his eyebrows at the exchange between Ange and the apparently very drunk Nikita. He simply grins at Angelo. "Dude…not really worth it at this point. I think the negatives outweigh the positives in this situation. No offense," he replies to the drunk girl. "I'm sure you're perfectly fine when you're not completely smashed. Anyway." Bobby gives a nod to Angelo. "Hi. I'm Bobby Drake, out for my daily walk in the slums of the city. What brings you folks out on this lovely evening?"
Nikita and the word 'sober' are not often heard harmoniously in the same sentence, unless of course 'up' follows the 'sober' part, in which case the sentence is usually constructed as such: 'Nikita, you need to sober up.' That, of course, is not very harmonious. As it is, Nikita looks at Bobby as if noticing him for the first time. Her face does something similar to a towl in washing machine, as if trying to find the correct way to furrow her brows and make her appear upset. Nikita's finger waggles unsteadily, but with purpose, alongside her reply, "HEY. You. Shuttit. No one talkin' at ya 'ere," she says, despite the fact Angelo actually was. "Ish ya in.. en… 'shultin's meh? Baby, ya don't know shit 'bout my poshitivez. And.. rightta 'bowt now, I'm all poshitivez about beefcake shentral 'ere." That queazy smile returns as she twirls gracelessly back to face Angelo. Her giggle is a little too over forced.
"Yeah, I know," Ange says, "Nobody likes my lame jokes." He watches the drunk girl with the caution of someone who's been the target of unintentional unloading of the evening's beverages, and also with the idea that she might tip over suddenly and need to be caught.
"Was helping a friend move some stuff," he says absently, watching Niki closely, trying to see the girl's pupils to tell if they're equally dilated. She worked hard to get this drunk, and he isn't about to make it go away unless she's actually got alcohol poisoning. Besides, the way she said "Beefcake central" was refreshingly forward. If only it were spoken sober.
Bobby snickers. "Well, you think you can get that friend over here quick? Cuz I think someONE needs a bit of moving at this point…" Bobby grins. "Cuz I think she'll have a pretty hard time doing that herself right now." He folds his arms across his chest. "And trust me…not saying this one isn't nice to look at, but…dude…SERIOUSLY…" He makes a nodding gesture with his head towards Nikita. "…dude." Nikita's words just roll off his back…it's not like it's the first time he's had a drunk chick yell profanities at him. He waggles his eyebrows at her, and makes a gun gesture at her, making a clicking noise.
There is an uneasy quality of clarity in the way Nikita is now glaring at Bobby. Behind the thick veil of intemperance clogging the gears of her logic, a practiced reply is motoring her body. She'd like to think she's walking in a straight, graceful, and perhaps a little bit seductive, line, but outside the pretty hopes of her mind's self perception she is wobbling worse than Bambi during his first steps on ice. She purses her lips, flutters her eye lashes, collects herself and stands before Bobby with a jutted chin of defiance, and somewhere in the cogs of her congested brain notes how odd it is for anyone to be wearing a Hawaiian shirt in the bitter cold. "SHERIOUSLY," she suddenly repeats, and then reaches to grab Bobby's arm, wrist, or any amount of bare skin. Upon proposed contact, Bobby is going to feel the effect of seven beers, three Irish Car Bombs, a jager bomb, and a shot of vodka. "You should pro'lly shut up," she says in a remarkably sober tone.
Wait what? Angelo dodges left as Niki staggers right and she's unimpeded in her quest to shed the 'as a skunk' part of her drunk onto the nearest antagonist. A trick of the light, maybe, he slips a bit on the slush and under the full glare of the spot, his hair and eyes seem to be lit up for a moment as he assesses whether or not the girl is too badly poisoned by the liquor. Three Irish Car Bombs? That's a four day hangover!
Bobby is taken off-guard slightly when Nikita begins to walk towards him; he takes a couple of steps back, but is unable to avoid the contact as she grabs his arm. As she does so, Bobby blinks; he immediately feels what seems to be about a year's worth of liquor suddenly flowing into his bloodstream. He stares at Nikita for a few long moments, not really saying much aside from the occasional blink. Then, a slow smile begins to spread across his face as he takes a wobbly step backwards. "You." He giggles. "…you, man. YOU. I'm talkin, like…" Bobby glances over at Angelo, then back to Nikita…"…not like…that guy right there…but, I mean…YOU. Seri *hic* ously. It's just…so great, man….hahaha…" Bobby reaches out a hand to try and grab the light pole so he doesn't completely fall on his face. "Oh, there's that…thing….wha?"
"Pfft, not much different drunk, are ya?" Nikita says, in spite of herself. She's kept a good buzz for herself, but without knowing her one would no longer be able to peg her as having just left (been thrown out of) a bar with a much emptier bank account. Got to love plastic. Indeed, all motor functions seems to be back online. Her jacket's come unzipped again, but this time she has little trouble in connecting its ends and pulling the zipper up. "/You/," she says to Bobby reproachfully. "Are a true buzzkill. Oh, but don't flatter yourself too much; kept enough for my goodself to be okay with giving away a night's hard work. … You're /welcome./" She straightens her motor oil-stained jacket, and turns to face Angelo again. She pauses, frowns a moment, and then pixie-smiles. "Still cute," she says wistfully, though more to herself than actually to him.
Well. this is … different.
"Thanks, you are too. I hate t'ask, but, what'd you do there?" Short guy with white-blond hair has good hearing too. He nods over at Bobby, who seems to have a much lower alcohol tolerance than the girl does. Of course, if he doesn't actually GET that lamp-post, Ange will be moving FAST to try to keep him from face-planting. Try being operative word.
Bobby does manage to grab ahold of the lightpole after all, although it is very close. Leaning against it, he wraps an arm around it and holds on for dear life, the world spinning in a blur around him. He never even had any time to think 'what the hell is going on?' Oh, if Lorna were here. He'd never live THIS down…like…EVER. "…pole. Hehehe." Bobby giggles, as he swings back and forth. "…it's funny, cuz it looks like…a wang…ahahaha. Wang. Psshh." Bobby lifts a hand and randomly freezes a passing car…it's suddenly just a huge block of ice sitting in the middle of the road. "Oh look! An ice cube!" He snickers. "…wait, how'd that…get there? OHMYGAWD DID I DO THAT? …I'm so cool….hehehehe…" He turns back around and grins at the two there. "I luff you guysh…wanna go get *hic* a drink? Or 10?"
"Not sure, don't care." Nikita replies matter-of-factly while stuffing her hands into her pockets. "I just can, and do." That pixie smile only seems to get brighter, with a twist of something else a little more racy. "But that's not even the main attraction, babe." She winks. Then, she's turning to behold what Bobby's gone off rambling about. She feels an unusual rush of cold in the air, and the loud crackle quickly guides her attention to the ice forming over the moving vehicle. Well, it's not moving anymore, of course. It's now frozen to the asphalt, and the taxi behind it has smashed its breaks just enough to bump it with a disgruntled sound of crunching bumper metal. The people inside the frozen car are, of course, not very content at all, and can be seen through the ice beating on the windows. How much frozen air do they have left to breathe in there? "What the shit?" is the most eloquent thing Nikita can think to say under the circumstances.
Looking at Angelo at the moment you would see the definition of BOGGLE. OK, this is bad, Angelo. Drunk … mutant, probably. A two car pileup, a TAXI driver, here comes the inevitable tirade in punjabi, and that other car with people in it. Where's a superhero when you need one? Cause, this is … OK. First things first. Car is safe enough for now, Ice guy is not too far away… "Hey buddy, yeah, that's really cool, Can you make the ice go away?"
He gets closer in case it becomes necessary to try to grab and detox the guy. DO NOT want to do that in front of witnesses of course.
Bobby doesn't really pay much attention to what he had just done, aside from thinking it's the funniest thing in the world. "It's like…a HUUUUGE ice cube…ahahaha…" He lets go of the lightpole and stumbles forward, heading in the direction of the bar. "Think…they could use that…in there? They use ice, riiiight?" Bobby grins, then stumbles and falls down to a knee. "Whoa. So like, when did the planet start…spinning around? I'M ON A MERRY GO ROUUUND!!! WOOO!!" To Angelo's question, Bobby peers at him with a grin, before his expression goes blank. "Haha…yeah! Wha…? I mean…no…"
Nikita is staring at the people inside the ice cube intently. She doesn't seem to be either concerned or unconcerned, but just
more… interested. There's definitely a female and a male in there. Both look African American, from what she can surmise through the thick sheets of moderately warping ice. Both are definitely panicking. "Huh. I'll be damned. Again." … But then again, she thinks to herself, we aren't too far from Mutie town. "Hey, ice boy, what the hell, man? Y'should, you know, not be int'rested in bars inna first place if this is the crap ya pull." That Taxi driver's realized the situation, and is trying to help the people inside the ice, but of course finds his attempts rather vain. A homeless man on the other side of the street just gapes.
"The hell," Ange mutters. If the car is keeping everyone's attention … maybe can unDrunk the happy guy in the hawaiian shirt without being too noticed.
He reaches a hand out, ostensibly and obviously offering help Bobby back up to his feet, "Hey, you need to stand up, guy, that sidewalk is disgustin'."
Bobby does accept Angelo's help up, though as he does, Angelo should be able to feel his hand getting extremely cold, and it begins to frost over. "…I'm not your guy, friend!" he slurs. "…I'm not your friend, buddeh! …I'm not your buddeh, guuuuy!" As he gets back to his feet again, he sways back and forth…."I'm not your….aw s**tbiscuits…" He spins around in place, before stumbling towards the bar once again. "Nng. Need watah. Or beer. Or…beer." Bobby grins. "Or some cheeeeeese sticks. Me likes cheese." He then proceeds to run right into the front of the building, where there happens to be a window. "HI LADY!" he shouts at the person who happens to be sitting there, currently. "BOOBIES!"
"You don't have an ice pick on you, do ya, uh… Beefy?" For lack of knowing Angelo's actual name. And then, "All the peeps in Manhattan, and your dumbass has to be the wisecrack I sober up on," Nikita chastises Bobby. "At this rate those two are gonna be Chocolate Freezie Pops. What a shitty way to— Oh, goddamn! That means the cops are gonna be sniffin' around." Clarity strikes the woman like a hammer, and she's instantly regretting not just staggering past pretty boy and into a cab, then sobering up the old fashioned way at home, alone. As per usual. "I don't need this bull." She's crinkling her nose in disdain at the ice mutant's antics as she steps back, and begins to turn her back on the mess that she is undoubtedly responsible for.
"OW, hey!" Ange was planning to light up for just long enough to take that drunken stupid down a notch, but instead he's got frostbite in a hand and his hair and eyes are now glowing anyway, which is NOT cool… He curses and shakes the pain out. "MOther*uck."
He looks over to the cute chick and forcibly turns OFF the light. "Angelo. No, I got no ice pick. Maybe they got a tire iron in that cab?"
He stomps over to the cab to see if the driver is alive or what.
Nikita is biting her lip, and cursing herself beneath her breath. Her conscience may be shriveled up and dried out, but it isn't completely dead yet. Okay, fine. She whirls around on a boot heel, and her timing is right on with Angelo's light extinguishing. She doesn't see it. The bedraggled fur trim of her coat frames her unhappy expression, and echoes her malcontent spirit rather well. She vents her agitation with a sigh and gets on with it, following Angelo out into the street. "Unless he's an idiot. And most of them are. Pop the trunk."
As Bobby leans up against the building, a slow creep of ice begins to make its way up the building from where he touches it. Soon enough, the entire front of the building is covered in a sheet of ice, which rapidly begins to engulf the building. Bobby takes a step back, looking up at the building and remarking…"Cool…" He gives a nod of approval, before he begins to slowly stagger down the street, away from the other two who are apparently trying to help the people trapped in the car. Someone's going to hear about this tomorrow, methinks.
Cab Driver is not there. Must've gone to call for help… and hell, if he's calling the cops, this will be a mess. Ange isn't supposed to be gone this late. He SLAMS a fist onto the trunk in just the right place… works about half the time with these old Fords… the trunk pops open. Thank God. There's a tire iron in there. Angelo starts WAILING on the thinnest spot he can find on the ice, not noticing the glacier front on the building his friend lives in. Well, that's gonna be a few frozen pipes.
Well, since Angelo seems to have the heavy work taking care of, Nikita just kind of watches for a few moments. Her interest is waning, though. The panic on the faces of those inside is relieved by the cracking ice, and it soon becomes clear that no one is going to die tonight. At least not yet. We'll see how froggy Nikita is feeling if she isn't out of here by the time those cops get here and start demanding answers. She turns around to eye the ice guy staggering off down the street. If she were an animal, she'd be growling. Instead she grunts and yells, "HEY. Where are you going? Get the hell back here before you freeze all of Hell's Kitchen. … Heh." She pauses to chuckle at her own unintended humor. So, does this count as hell freezing over?
Bobby occasionally uses a building or two on his way down the street to keep himself from falling; each one ends up getting frozen as he touches it. Upon hearing Nikita shouting in his direction, Bobby pauses and turns around to look at her. "WHAAAT?" he shouts. "NO. I'm goin' ta BED, ok? I IS TIRED DAMMIT." With that, he turns around and continues to stagger in the other direction. "You the one who lives in an ICE CREAM CARTON OK SO YOU FIX IT." He sticks his tongue out at her, before shuffling off again, muttering to himself. "Damn hippies, always harshin' my groove…"
Angelo catches that (it's shouted) and he's just pissed-off enough to say out loud what his brain is thinking as he knocks ice off the car.
"Some" WHACK "People" Whack "JUST" WHAM CRACK "Cannot" whack "handle" WHAM! CRINCH "their booze" KICK CRAthump, and the back door is free of ice, the shell skittering along the road.
He glares in the direction of the frozen menace's back, "And you can HAVE your hangover, I ain't fixin' it now."
But Nikita isn't going to have him ending up at her apartments and freezing her pipes somewhere down the road, no sir. She won't have a boob like that threatening to cost her a warm shower in the morning. She grunts, and is after him. "You're going to have the goddemn cops on my ass. AGAIN. I'm going to kick your stupid ass if you don't quit it. And I swear I can do it — " She's reaching for him again, for any skin she can manage to touch, "— wasted!" She only wants a partial amount back. Just enough to take the stupid away, and make him aware of what he's doing. And enough to give her back a fuzzy warm feeling. Mostly because she wants to forget that she actually cares about what's happening.
Bobby isn't exactly in a good state of mind to argue at the moment, and so when Nikita chases after him, he merely turns around and scowls at her. "No man, I'm LEAVING. I…" At that point, Nikita takes some of the drunkenness from him…at least enough to clear his head. "…I have no idea what the hell is going on…" He winces, his head pounding with a terrible headache. He blinks, glancing around at the frozen buildings around him, as well as the frozen car just off to the side. "…the hell?" he mutters, obviously confused and not exactly sure what he had done. He staggers over to the car, resting a hand on it and drawing all the ice back off of it; most of it shatters upon the ground. After doing this, he turns and begins to quickly head off back in the direction of the school; his expression is quite a troubled one. "…guess I'll hear about this one on the news tomorrow…"
Ange is busy checking the people who were in the car, to see if they have any injuries, so he looks up and sees the car being de-iced, and just shakes his head. MAYBE if he sees the guy again he'll try to explain what happened. If he can figure out just how the cute blonde girl shared her inebriation around like that. But the cops are on the way now, from the sound of sirens, and he's gotta stay around to give a statement. "No, I got no idea what happened, Officer, I just saw the car covered in ice an' broke it off the back door. Didn't see anyone I could identify."
Probably have to give a more detailed report when he gets back home though. Headmasters are such stick-up-the-backside at these private schools.
Meanwhile, Nikita staggers back blissfully, but not so blissfully as to not notice the stagger. "Ugh, man. Shoulda just gone home. Shoulda, coulda, /woulda/." She pulls the collar of her jacket closer around her neck, despite not really being all that cold. "Hey. You handle alcohol like a little BITCH," she cries to Bobby as he staggers down the street. She waves her fist enthusiastically with the words. Then, she hears those sirens. The cops are here. She straightens, runs her fingers through her disheveled hair, and tries to look rather nonchalant when trying to leave. Nevertheless, she gets pulled aside briefly when a patrol car pulls up. "Oh, uh. No, din't see nothin'. Just tryin' t'get home, 'at's all!"
