I'm going wild for the night.

[hostage]

WHO: Jesse & Madison
WHERE: Miami
WHEN: the week of April 14 or thereabouts
WHAT: Spring Break, bitches.
WARNINGS: drugs and bad human beings???

[It isn't quite the Miami he was expecting. Like most things in this world, it's a little bit off. A little bit fake. Like a movie set. Maybe he only feels like that because it's all so weirdly old-fashioned-but-not. And, of course, because half of everyone he's met shouldn't even be real.

But anyway, here he is, with maybe the only person who does seem real to him. Madison Montgomery might be a total bitch and a spoiled movie star princess but there's no bullshit with her and he appreciates that. He knows how to navigate around a girl like Madison. It takes booze and drugs and parties and money. She's a woman after his own heart.

So it's their first night in Miami. The air is warm but there's a breeze coming off the water. Music fills the air, bass pounding from the clubs and bars on either side of the street as they make their way through the entertainment district. It's the first time Jesse's felt relaxed since he got himself barbecued at the museum. Less hero stuff, more partying. That seems like the answer to his problems.]

Which one looks good to you?

Comments

[yourpiecenow]

[so much about this world is different, but South Beach is a sort of timeless experience, all celebrity glamor and ritzy trash, Tony Montana with his machine gun and cocaine in piles like a snowstorm. getting away from the military bases and shitty small towns is a breath of fresh air. this is the world that makes sense to her.

she makes a little show of seriously considering her options, lifting up her sunglasses (it's fucking nighttime) and scanning the street as she hangs off his arm unnecessarily.] Mm... That one. [it's the most obviously trashy one. it's not like she's making any pretensions as to what they're there for.]

[hostage]

[Jesse looks where she directs him and raises his eyebrows in approval.]

Niiiice.

[Trashy is good. Trashy is more affordable and probably more fun than some of the fancier places around, done up in all-white Art Deco decor. Yeah, they need somewhere dirty and dark with flickering neon lights and cheap beer.

He ushers her over there, certainly not complaining about having a beautiful girl on his arm. They're hit with a faceful of weed smoke as soon as they're inside, which he takes as a good sign, even if he doesn't intend to partake.]

[yourpiecenow]

How much cash do you have on you?

[Madison's main mission tonight is partaking. She hasn't had any of her normal "fun" since being Jesus-fied cured her heart murmur-- and while she's sure the significant decrease of sudden death hanging over her head will make it a lot less fun, she's determined to make up for lost time.]

Hand it to me. Scoring shit is pretty much my fourth superpower.

[hostage]

[He might be a pro at this, but she's a pretty girl, so he's betting she won't need his help. And he already expected all of this to be on him, so he doesn't think twice about pulling out a few hundreds and forking them over. Blowing cash on parties is pretty much all he's been saving for, anyway.]

I'll get outta your way.

[Dudes won't give her a discount if he's hovering around her.]

[yourpiecenow]

[She gives him a wink and a little smile before she leaves. It's so nice when they come already knowing things. The worst thing about boys is training them.

She flits around the club like a fucked up little hummingbird, putting the charm on all the sketchy-looking guys and fucking off quickly when she figures out they're useless to her. She seems to hit gold next to the ladies' room, as she disappears into there much longer than anyone using it for its true purpose would.

When she returns about fifteen minutes later, her little black purse hangs a bit heavier on her shoulder. Also, she has a mojito. And a beer. She wasn't sure what he was into.]

[hostage]

[So kind of her. He wasn't expecting her to buy him a drink. (With his own money? Whatever.) He goes for the beer, naturally.]

Hey, thanks.

You pick up anything good?

[yourpiecenow]

An eight-ball, a few E tablets, and a quarter bag of weed. [She opens her purse and reaches inside, but only takes out a normal cigarette. She lights it with a flick of her hand. Then, she takes out a wad of cash-- nearly all he'd given her-- and hands it over to him.] With money left over. It's fucking insane here.

[hostage]

[Well, he looks impressed as he takes the remaining cash and stuffs it away.]

Nice, nice. Sounds like you're gonna have a good time.

["You" and not "we". He's still determined. Bless his heart.]

[yourpiecenow]

[She gives him a Look.]

What's the point of having a good time on your own?

[hostage]

I'm already having a great time.

[He punctuates that with a swig of beer.]

[yourpiecenow]

Not the right kind.

Don't tell me you're going to be a bitch about it, like that blue-haired kid.

[hostage]

Hey - I am anything but a bitch.

[He weasels his way closer, his free hand going for her waist.]

It ain't like I'm ditching you. Maybe I just like to watch.

[yourpiecenow]

If you say so. But, fair warning: I can be after-school special levels of peer pressure.

[She puts the cigarette out in her half-empty mojito glass. She turns her head up slightly and smirks.]

Let's blow this pop stand. I'm bored already.

[hostage]

[Jesse laughs, though he should probably be more worried. He chugs the rest of his beer - shame to waste it - and sets the bottle aside.]

Okay, where to?

[yourpiecenow]

Somewhere I can snort this coke that isn't a dirty nightclub bathroom.

[let it never be said that madison montgomery doesn't get straight to the heart of things.]

[hostage]

Little early to head back to the room.

[Ah! But -]

I think I saw a playground out on the beach.

[yourpiecenow]

You're serious?

[It is at this moment that she realizes that, yes, he is, and that she has made an unusually good choice in companionship. This is a positive trend.]

Sure. As long as you're not legally required to be a thousand feet away from it or something.

[hostage]

Oh, ha ha.

[Since it's his idea, he starts leading the way.]

Nowhere's better for getting high than a playground. 'cept a carnival, maybe. You seriously never tried it before?

[yourpiecenow]

I've been fucked up in a lot of weird places, but I can't say I ever thought about a playground. Maybe I just hang out with the wrong crowd.

[hostage]

Maybe teen movie stars got cooler places to chill.

[That's okay, she has a dirty white boy to show her the proper way now. They come to a low fence between the street and the sand. Jesse hops it easily, then turns around to help her over it like the gentleman he is.]

[yourpiecenow]

[She rolls her eyes-- please, physical exertion is for people without magical powers or high heeled shoes. With a movement a bit like Moses parting the Red Sea, the fence rips in half like cheap tissue. Then, smirking, she delicately steps through it.

Be impressed, bitch.]

[hostage]

[Part-impressed, part-scared, part-jealous. He backs up out of her way, eyes wide, and gives a shake of his head.]

Christ. Why'd I have to get the shitty superpower...

[yourpiecenow]

Because Fate is a bitch.

[She heads to the merry go round, kneeling in the wood chips and emptying the contents of her purse onto it. She opens the tightly-wrapped plastic bag of cocaine first, cutting it with her fingernail and letting it fall out into a neat pile. She's going for her wallet when she suddenly seems to remember that Jesse is there, and pats the ground next to her as invitation.]

[hostage]

[Jesse doesn't put up much resistance, lingering back just a second or two before he shuffles over at her beckoning. This is a bad idea. She's about to make him snort this coke and then he's going to have a fantastic time and he'll wake up in the morning hating himself which means he'll snort more coke and, goddamn, he's been clean for almost a year. What's wrong with him? Why does he keep doing this?

He settles down next to her, very obviously tense.]

[yourpiecenow]

[She's already used a credit card to cut it into four fat little lines when she remembers-- because she's just so terribly forgetful sometimes-- that Jesse is not only there, but a person who theoretically has feelings. She glances at him.]

You're acting weird.