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Post by JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE on Jun 1, 2011 18:08:02 GMT -5
"Great," he said with heavy sarcasm, bracing himself against a wall with the palm of his hand. His gray eyes were bloodshot as he smirked at her. "Well then I'm just going to make my way down that alley over there 'nd you can get back to wherever the hell you actually needed to go." He was entirely serious as well, displaying this by slowly walking along the wall in the direction where it curved down the long and rather dark alleyway. Hell, he didn't even know where this thing led but he figured anywhere away from her, it couldn't be too bad. His hand was being rubbed red raw by the rough stone of the wall as he dragged it along, but the alcohol numbed his pain to the point where he didn't even notice. "I'm not weak," he said, and he spat the word with so much venom that it stood out in contrast to his drunken mumbling. Then he muttered something else that sounded somewhat like, "--can defend my fucking self from the bastards as long as I don't have anyone else with me--" which dissolved into unintelligible mutters after a moment.
He shook his head when she asked him what he planned to do, clearly without any idea at all. The gesture lasted much longer than it would have sober. "Dunno," he grunted, stubborn. "Stand here 'nd... and wait until you leave, or something." He refused to look at her for a moment as he glared toward the mouth of the alleyway, feeling a bit sick. Damn it, he'd probably downed those beers a bit too fast. He didn't think he was going to puke it all back up or anything (vomiting in an alley... now that was cliche) but it certainly wasn't the most pleasant of feelings in the world. He just really didn't want this stupid whatever-the-fuck-she'd-said-her-name-was girl to stand here and wait for him to keep moving and then stalk him again. So he planted himself stubbornly against the wall, leaning heavily on it and trying to focus on his breathing. At least he wasn't anywhere hot and sweaty, else he probably would have puked.
All the same, the girl had backed up and so Joshua flicked the blade of the knife back in--nicked his finger on it in the process, but he didn't even notice--and stuffed it into his pocket, getting blood all over his sweater as he did so. The material was black and thus it was not noticeable; Joshua was lucky he kept himself and his house clean, he'd do the laundry as long as he'd just worn something, it didn't even have to be dirty. Living on his own had taught him that he'd actually taken a lot of the things that the household staff in the mansion did for granted. He'd never had to wash his own laundry or clean the kitchen after he ate--hell, he didn't even have to cook the meals he ate. He knew how to cook because it was one of the many random hobbies he'd taken up in his isolation, and because (bless him) their chef had been totally doing it wrong when it came to Vegetarian 101. He'd taken up reading cookbooks and deciding what vegetarian supplements were good, which tasted like crap, and which went with what side-dishes and the like. Then he'd wrote all of this down and handed it to said chef. Not to be an asshole, but because he had actually taken the time to learn all this shit and he sure as hell wasn't letting it go to waste. It came in handy now that he had his own place.
When she offered to call him a taxi, however, Joshua responded to this with surprisingly insistent protests. Waving his hands--the right covered in the blood from his cut finger--in front of him, he shook his head vehemently. "No," he said quickly and firmly. "I am flat fucking broke and there is no way I'm taking someone else's money." It wouldn't have been so personal if not for the fact that he'd never been in a desperate situation like this before. Growing up, Joshua had always been the one with money. Anything he wanted or needed was right at his fingertips courtesy of his rich parents. But now between juggling rent and a troll of a girlfriend as well as random expenses--like taxis and nights of blackout drinking--he was realising its value like never before. "Just... just... go home... or whatever." He had the grace to be embarrassed enough about the money situation that he wouldn't look at her. "I'll find my own way back..." Eventually. Hopefully. Maybe...?
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 1, 2011 20:51:44 GMT -5
And the drunk guy was seriously heading toward the dark and ominous alleyway, perfect. She told him she wouldn’t follow, but dammit, he was going to get himself killed this way. Nell almost sighed as she watched him, using the wall as what seemed like support. She feared he would pass out right then and there, and she wouldn’t know what to do. Never had she been put into a situation like this and it was throwing her through a loop. He pretty much spat the word ‘weak’ and she guessed she managed to damage his pride even while the alcohol was working through his system. ”I didn’t say you were weak, but you’re honest-to-god hammered and it’s not a good idea for anyone to go traipsing down alleys.” Did she believe he could defend himself? Multiple against lone-Josh seemed like it would be the case, unless it was a lone mugger. As his voice fell into almost incoherent mutterings, she seriously doubted whether he’d be able to use his blade to great effect. Maybe on a good day, but this was certainly not a good day.
Josh shook his head and she waited for him to say something, his ‘plan’ apparently. She tried to keep her sarcasm in check so she didn’t give him any other reason to be irritated. How’s that working out for ya?, she instead thought to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him with a clearly incredulous look. True to his word, Josh stood there stubbornly as she shifted from foot to foot, trying to keep warm. What am I going to do with you? He really was her hardest case yet, but her patience kept her rooted there too. God, was he going to pass out? Nell tried to think of what she’d do then. Call an ambulance? That seemed like a bit much. She could call one of the friends she’d made to help her take him somewhere… Which would probably end up being her apartment, considering she didn’t know where he lived. But it didn’t seem like a good idea to have someone with a knife like him in her apartment.
Nell’s musings were cut short when he grazed his finger as he flipped the blade back and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything, because apparently he didn’t like to be helped. Plus, he looked totally oblivious to it. Was it the alcohol? Probably. And if it didn’t bother him, well…there was nothing she could do. How can such a small cut bleed so much? She didn’t mind blood, really, though when others were hurt it brought out the fretting-side of her. Which she tried really hard to resist now. What did she even have on her? Her cellphone and wallet, since she didn’t take her bag to work, a few candy wrappers scrunched down in her pockets. No band-aids or anything. Does this mean I have to carry them around now? If she kept meeting people like Josh, it seemed so. But he seemed like one of a kind, that was for sure. Slowly, she said, ”Are you…okay?” while looking pointedly at his bleeding finger.
Instead of a knife this time, he wove his hands around and the latter gesture was decidedly less intimidating and therefore she didn’t pay much mind to his protests. ”I have money,” she stated simply as she looked down at her phone. ”It’s no problem.” And she would hear no argument against it. Nell sighed, her gaze serious as it met his own bloodshot one. Was he seriously embarrassed about taking money from her? Sure, she was a bartender at a crappy club, a seventeen-year-old living on her own in a studio apartment she could barely afford, but she didn’t even think of these things when she looked at her phone. Though the possibility of not having food was rather consternating, but she remembered the stack of Hungry Man dinners in her freezer and figured she’d be okay. ”I’m sure you can find your way back, but it would be much easier to just take a cab. And I can spare a few bucks, so you have no argument.” She said this with a half-smile. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but she still waited for him to answer.
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Post by JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE on Jun 1, 2011 22:24:30 GMT -5
He scoffed, the sound coming out as something akin to a hiss as his intoxication drew it out slightly. "S'not like I don't know my way around," he muttered to her, still half-dragging and half-staggering toward the alleyway. His balance was seriously fucked--he couldn't quite remember what his equilibrium was, but it was fucked and that much was apparent by the way he had to rely on solid and unmoving objects to keep himself standing. "I can handle myself," he snapped, suddenly angry again, "so why don't you just piss off and go find someone else to follow around?" He must have insisted that he could make his own way home about a million times by now and this girl just would not leave. If he had been sober he might have admired her perseverance... but if he was sober they wouldn't even be in this situation, so the comparison was null.
He held up the knife and slashed it through the air again, though this time the movement was less directed at her and more of a demonstration than anything else. "Got my blade to protect me," he snapped, "so I don't need your help." And so maybe he was totally hammered (he hadn't denied that yet, even Josh was sensible enough to realise when he'd fallen off the wagon completely) but he felt like a knife would be of a lot more use to him than some annoying girl he barely knew. He was being an absolute dick to her and that seriously didn't seem to be warding her off at all. In fact, physical threats seemed to be the only thing that had an effect--she'd backed up when he'd started brandishing the knife and threatening with her, so maybe if he threatened to seriously hurt her she'd run off...?
He hadn't even taken notice of the cut until she asked him if he was okay, brows knitting together in mild confusion. "The fuck does that mean?" he demanded roughly. "Are you trying to make a joke? 'Cause it ain't fuckin' funny if you are, I'm obviously not--" But he cut himself off mid-rant as he finally followed her gaze and noticed the cut. It had caused quite a deep slice in his fingertip, which explained the amount of blood that was sliding across his palm. He could feel the sticky wetness of the blood but knew little pain for the injury, and so he just stared at it for a long moment in concentration, unable to remember how the fuck it had gotten there. "Huh." was all he said, no other explanation needed. He didn't confirm or deny whether he was okay or not as she'd asked, but the fact that he wasn't freaking out or grasping it in pain should be enough to clue in that he was at least not in any imminent peril.
"Yes it is," Joshua said stubbornly when she insisted that she had the cash, folding his arms and shifting his position so that it was his back that was relying on the wall for support now rather than his uncut hand. This was a lot more comfortable even though the shift had made him a little dizzy. "Go away," he snapped insistently. "I have every argument I want, I won't do it." He set his jaw firmly as if prepared to sit here and argue this for the whole night if he had to. He glared pointedly at the phone in her hand. She could have threatened him with another alternative if she was that determined, but for now he was just being stubborn ol' Josh, as per usual. Even when he wasn't totally smashed, his decisions were generally quite firm.
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 2, 2011 5:24:06 GMT -5
[OMG JOSH. "Huh." xDD YOU ARE TOO GREAT, MAN, JUST SO SMASHED. <33 Another early morning post before school, sorry for suckishness.~]
Of course not, she retorted in her mind as he continued to stagger while heading toward the alleyway. Nell kept all her sarcasm bottled-up, and it was more out of concerned frustration than anything. Then there was his rage again and his drawling voice that seemed to detract from his venomous words. Why didn't she go and follow someone else? Yeah, because this was clearly hobby of hers, trying to escort trashed clients home. "Because I'm having too much fun with you," she commented dryly, and mentally hit herself for the sarcasm she though she had under control. Really, she was just growing frustrated with his stubbornness. And it was cold (as Canada always seemed to be). And she was pretty sure she left her stove on at home. This night had not been good to her, but it had been even worse to Josh.
He wielded his knife again and she would have rolled her eyes if it weren't for the fact that he was wielding a knife. Still, he was an off-balance lush whose support lay solely in the wall he leaned against. He had his blade to protect him, huh? "Yes, you've demonstrated how well you can use it, too," she said like a sigh, still eyeing his injury. Perhaps she shouldn't have said that, he might have taken it as a challenge or insult, but it was true. His pride was getting in the way, as it must have with most drunks, but he was so goddamn adamant. Really, was he that unaware of the blood flowing down onto his sweater? And what could she do? Nothing at all. He didn't seem to mind at all, but she still felt like she should do something. Were tree any 24-hour convenience stores open around so she could buy some band-aids? Didn't seem that way.
Apparently by his next statements, he hadn't even realized he'd done it. Of course not, that would be expecting too much. She would have giggled at his long stare and simple 'huh' response if she weren't so frustrated with him and now concerned about the blood he was losing. Which was quite lovely, on top of the inebriation. He was a hot mess, but clearly didn't see it that way. In his mind, he was perfectly capable of getting home safely. Yeah, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility. He was just too shitfaced to see that. "Put some pressure on it to stop the bleeding," she advised, her voice still laced with that ever-present sigh. Even if it didn't hurt him, he still needed to do something about the bleeding. It made passing out even more of a possibility.
Still he resisted, as expected. If he caved in then she'd truly be surprised, but it would have been nice. Whatever. Two can play at that game. She stuffed her phone into her back pocket and crossed her arms once more, mimicking his own posture. "You want to be stubborn, I can be stubborn too. I've got nowhere to be, I could wait all night." She lifted her eyebrows as if saying 'Do you really want to play this?' Truthfully, she had to meet up with a girl she'd recently met for coffee, but she could call her and postpone. But that might mean putting her out. Darn it all to heck! "It's as simple as getting in a taxi and taking my money. Wouldn't you like that, after me pestering you?" Nell decided to appeal to his annoyance toward her, just anything to get his ass home. She was desperate right now.
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Post by JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE on Jun 2, 2011 8:33:05 GMT -5
Joshua outright glowered at her when she responded with sarcasm, his gray gaze darkening with what could only be described as pure hatred. It usually took a hell of a lot more than just a couple irritating comments to make him glare at you with this much passion, but the fact that he was drunk was wholly contributing to his moods right now. "Fuck off," he half-growled through a clenched jaw, his thoughts wandering into dark corners of his mind as he began to think up different ways to scare her off without actually doing any damage. He didn't want to kill anybody--he'd already been down that unfortunate road, and even though he hadn't been the assailant, watching the guy bleed out had been bad enough. The interrogation by the cops had been even worse. Of course, if he were to pick between some time behind bars (not that they could have given him much; he'd only been fifteen and it was more likely they could just land him in juvenile hall for a bit to straighten out his gang activity) and a group of people out to murder him... his decision was on the rocks either way. But even if murder was out of the question he wouldn't be afraid to do a little damage. He'd used the blade before--even if he was a little less... hammered... when he'd done it.
That did it. Dealing With (Drunk) Joshua 101? Do not insult his pride past a certain point. Suggesting that he didn't know how to use his knife? That was one of those certain points. "Perhaps not enough," he hissed, jaw still clenched though the words were spoke with definite and defined threat now. He slashed it through the air again, gray eyes glittering with rage. "Why don't you come in a bit closer?" he said with a sneer. He looked a bit mad considering he was leaning so heavily on the wall, laughing under his breath in a sound quite disturbing. "I'll show you how well I can really use it by carving pretty patterns in your skin." You did not insult his pride--you just didn't. He was dead serious too, intoxicated as he was. The boy did not risk pushing away from the wall in the understanding that he might fall over and impale himself or something, but if Nell were in reach he certainly might have used the blade quite effectively in defence of his pride. "Stupid bitch," he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. "Suggesting I can't fuckin' use my own knife--"
He stared at his hand for another long moment, but instead of following her advice--he was far too stubborn for that, of course--Joshua just huffed slightly in irritation and wiped the cut finger on his jeans. On top of leaving a lovely red smear on the cheap denim (all of his really nice clothes with expensive thread counts were, of course, back at the mansion) it served to further aggravate the cut. It would have been stinging like a bitch if he'd been even mildly capable of feeling it past how drunk he was, but as he was totally smashed he didn't even take notice of the fact that the blood continued to flow unhindered.
"That's the thing," he snapped stubbornly, sliding down the wall so that he was sitting down instead of standing up. Dizziness had really start to become a pain and it was much easier to avoid falling over when he was sitting against the wall with his knees pressed against his chest. His (incredibly pale) arms were wrapped around them, hands clasped together so they were both now smeared with the blood from the injured one. "Taking your money isn't easy, so I won't do it." Was she truly ready to wait out here all night? Joshua doubted it. He certainly did not actually want to stay here the entire time. He wanted to go back to his tiny apartment and crash. He longed for the Advil in the medicine cabinet and maybe a dose of cold medicine to knock himself out if his insomnia decided to plague him and prevent unaided sleep. And if Nell bothered him much longer he might just damn it all to hell and stumble into one of the random apartments near his own and wait 'till she left, then go to his own. It would have been as simple as just doing the latter if he weren't so paranoid.
[I'm glad he amuses you <333 xD]
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 2, 2011 14:33:02 GMT -5
Okay, so maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. Nell had to remind herself that when speaking to a drunk—and armed drunk at that—things may not go over well with snarkiness. So she kept silent against his glower, looking at him with a placid face. Apparently she’d wounded his pride, and his laugh-laced-threats made her narrow her eyes. If she were the confrontational type, her response would have been ‘come at me, bro!’ but she wasn’t and she wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible. She knew she really couldn’t defend herself, even with a lot of brick and cement around. That was just diluted forms of earth, chemically renewed and very hard to control. She didn’t want to risk losing control of anything again, even if she formed a brick shield. And she most certainly didn’t want to risk anyone who may be creeping the streets at night to see such an even, knowing ‘underground explosions’ really wouldn’t be enough of an explanation. Still, she was most certainly not going to be a victim.
Again, her hand went to her head and scratched the back of her head, dislodging the clip holding her hair up. ”I don’t want to fight you,” she said, still planted to the spot. ”And I’m certainly not going to come any closer. I’m not dumb. Anyone with a knife is a threat.” That was true; drunk or not she wasn’t about to step forward and give him a big ol’ hug. She was just concerned about him waving a blade around with his balance all off. It may have been stupid of her to be more worried about him when he was threatening her life, but that was how her mind worked. And though she was doing better on the whole ‘not baring your belly to the enemy’ thing, she still didn’t take much of herself into consideration when someone else around her was in trouble. Or drunks and stumbling and flailing with a switchblade.
She blinked slowly as he wiped his hand off on his jeans. Really? Nell avoided drinking as much as possible—she didn’t binge, she was simply a social drinker. Even a little buzzed was dangerous with her personality, she didn’t even want to try to get completely plastered. God know she’d end up a cliché in a gutter. Nell sure as hell wasn’t going to take a step closer to him so as to help. There comes a limit to her ‘selflessness’. And she’s finally come to realize that her wellbeing is most important after years of abuse. More important than the life of your mother? The thought made her stomach clench, and she willed it away, instead focusing on Josh and his glare and his bleeding finger. She was starting to wonder if she should treat him like a kid. Instead of telling him what to do, say the opposite, because clearly he wasn’t too keen on following advice.
Josh slid down to the ground, and she thought at least he was doing that. Perhaps it’d give him time to sober up or something, but she doubted it. He was pretty damn hammered. ”Tell me, how is it that you’re apparently more than willing to cut me and yet you can’t let me give you a few bucks?” She shook her head. He was drunk, his judgment was clearly impaired and all that jazz. ”Never mind, don’t even answer that.” Nell had the patience of a saint, and as long as he didn’t come at her it would stay intact. And she was going to make sure he got home safely before getting home herself. Because now it was not just a matter of his wellbeing—it was a matter of wasting enough time with this guy that she was going to see through it to the end. If she gave up now, she would have nothing to show for it.
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Post by JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE on Jun 2, 2011 15:45:23 GMT -5
Apparently the girl didn't want to fight him, and since Joshua was ultimately determined to shake her company no matter what it meant doing (barring murder) he decided to play upon this. The drunken teenager had momentary trouble getting his balance as he stood once more, but once he did he didn't relent in his decision and sit back down. Even drunk, Joshua was as stubborn as a mule--hell, he was probably worse than a mule. He got an idea in his head and he did not budge outside of it. "Fine," he said, and it was accompanied by a hollow laugh. "Don't wanna fight me? Y'don't have to." God, did he ever feel terrible. He might have given in to the temptations of unconsciousness right then and there if it wouldn't have meant admitting she was right and thus laying down his pride for the slaughter.
Instead, he started to walk once more and pulled the knife from his pocket as he did so, flicking out the blade and pausing slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "Really wanna follow me now?" he challenged, and there was something dark and dangerous about the way he spoke the words. Gray eyes cast a glare into the mouth of the alleyway. Joshua himself didn't even want to head in that direction, but he knew the way home through the twisting maze of dark, shadowy paths. Maybe the frightening darkness would be enough to keep the girl at bay and have her lose track of him. She seemed pretty fucking determined that she would make sure he got home safely, but he was determined that she would not. "If I end up dead in a ditch," he hissed, "then you can go ahead 'nd laugh at my funeral. But I already told you I wasn't that weak, lady, so don't get your hopes up."
Honestly, she was probably more concerned for his safety than he was at the moment. If he'd been sober he probably would have avoided going into the maze of dark alleyways at all costs, knowing perfectly well what sort of fate would await him if he did. "M'not going to take your money," he said, still not having moved from where he'd paused. "But I'm not gunna hesitate to turn around and cut you if you follow me." Just like Nell had suggested aloud, the trade-up made no sense. It would have been more reasonable for him to just take the money and get home instead of potentially getting thrown in jail for assault and battery with a deadly weapon. He might not kill her but slashing someone open with a blade was still a criminal offence no matter what way you looked at it and no matter how drunk you were. But Joshua did not make sense.
He'd said his piece, and he was gripping the knife so tightly in his left hand that it was impossible to assume he was kidding about turning around and lashing out at her. He turned his attention back to the way ahead and tried not to think about how far the walk was (it wasn't too far, but when you were drunk and staggering any distance seemed impossible). He relied less heavily on the wall than he had immediately after exiting the bar, but he still didn't hesitate to keep his hand on it to maintain his balance. He didn't look to see if the girl would follow him, but the moment he heard footsteps he was so on edge that he was ready to react.
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 2, 2011 16:20:47 GMT -5
Nell watched carefully as he stood, seeing if he’d tip over right then and there. But god, did he have willpower. That was one trait she had to find admirable, even though he was being a stubborn asshole. A drunk stubborn asshole. Really, why couldn’t he just let her walk him home and be done with her? It would be so much easier on both their parts. But no, he had to be all antagonistic and creepy about it. Nell didn’t think she’d been so frustrated in her entire life, and if she had, then this was one of her top five moments of ‘ohmygod, I want to kick a wall or something’. Usually, Nell didn’t become so frustrated. She was an easygoing, come-what-may kind of person. But then again, she usually didn’t meet people like Joshua.
He started walking away, and she was not so quick to follow this time. Good thing, too, considering he pulled out his blade again and was once more threatening her. Her eyes were set in a firm glower, but the way he spoke the words made her shudder, and not from the cold. The alley didn’t intimidate her as much as it should have, though she was still wary to go down any such dark place. Especially if she was going to follow after Josh, which is now the last thing she wanted to do. Did this guy even know how completely ridiculous he was being, going down alleyways alone at night? The alcohol must have stifled such thoughts. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent!” she said exasperatedly, when he spoke of ending up dead. Nell was about ready to turn around and slam her head against the wall of the nearest building, but she kept her eyes focused on Josh. ”I don’t want to see you dead!” But you’re making it pretty damn difficult!
She was not willing to sacrifice her own life in turn for someone else who may just live if luck was on his side. It sounded very uneven to her, as did his whole ‘I’ll cut you, but not take your money’ mentality. Usually drunks would be more than willing to accept help and money. But he was seriously willing to kill her—maybe?—if she helped. Was his pride that damn powerful even with alcohol to water it down? In any case, she believed Josh when he said he’d cut her should she try to follow him. She wasn’t even going to push her luck. Naïve she may be, idiotic she was not. Nell would not follow this drunk guy who was threatening to cut her into a dark alley. Who would? She was the sober one here, after all. ”Go ahead and have a nice night, then,” she said with a huff as he staggered down the alley.
Nell hated giving up on anything. Of course, she had run away from all her problems in America, but that was a different matter entirely. She hated running away from things like this. But she didn’t doubt this guy was dangerous, and she did not want to die tonight. Why don’t you just take the darn money? she thought, feeling very exhausted now. It had been a long night indeed, made worse by this drunk. Of course, she had taken it upon herself to ‘help’ him, so she couldn’t even bitch about it in her own head. Still, she wished he’d just pushed aside what must have been his pride and accepted her money. After all, how prideful did he think he was stumbling down the street and waving his knife in her face? She decided to say one last plea to him, her voice soft. ”Be careful.”
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