there I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off

[magnitudes]

WHO: Sarissa & a few folks.
WHERE: various.
WHEN: mid(ish) May.
WHAT: a catch all for her many shades of disaster.
WARNINGS: potential themes of past spousal and child abuse in narrative, boozing it up, talk of violence and language.
Sarah's thread: drug and alcohol abuse, reference to past domestic violence



starters in the comments.

Comments

kogami.

[magnitudes]

( Right, okay, so she's sort of been a bit disorganised. Just a tiny little slight bit. They're only meeting up a month or so late, which by her standards is positively timely.

She's already camped out in a bar that isn't quite sleazy, but is definitely bordering on it - the sort of place where your floors stick to the floor a little bit and you probably don't want to touch the peanuts, but has a pretty blood good beer selection and amazing chicken wings, walls pasted over with poster upon poster.

Things she has managed to do include: get a table, get two chairs and two glasses, get a pitcher of a beer that's dark and heavy, and a plate of mozzarella sticks. In her hands she's got one broken in half, the melted cheese stretching between the two halves. )

Oi, over here.

( With a nod. Somehow or other, her wrist seems looked after. )

[psychofailed]

[Meanwhile, Kogami's definitely wrinkling his nose a little bit, because you know what is a hell of a lot rarer in future totalitarian dystopic Japan where most everyone's too worried for their mental health to touch a potentially addictive substance? Dive bars.

This feels like the sort of place that would be itching for a bust by the MWPSB back home, and even with the hue-seeing power granted by the Porter generally blunted in crowded places, he can definitely see the muddier hues when he focuses on individuals at random.

Still, he doesn't comment on any of it, crossing the room and taking a seat across from Sarissa.]

So if I remember right, [haha, get it, bc of that brain damage joke he made the other day, he's funny] we were going to trade some stories.

I'd say flip a coin to see who goes first, but I feel like neither of us would want it back afterward.

[ooc: Since it's her first time meeting Kogami in person, pls fill out this permissions post, thanks!!]

[magnitudes]

( ha ha ha he's hilarious. She rolls her eyes a little, because really it's her fault it's taken so long for them to be able to hang out, and she groans slightly, suffering so very much. )

Right, stories.

( As she grabs the empty glass and slides it the short distance across the table to him, and nudges the pitcher in his direction so he can pour himself a drink. )

I got the beer, so I reckon that means you should go first.

( Sarissa that isn't how it works but sure, okay, whatever. )

[psychofailed]

[Gosh, hdu not accept his attempt at humor, Sarissa, rood. He pours himself a drink, taking a sip before nodding.]

Works for me.

[So...what's a non-terrible way to say this? He thinks about it for a few moments, and then settles on acceptance that there really isn't one. Might as well own it.]

Basically, a girl got kidnapped as bait for me, and then I might have gotten literally hunted by a nutjob with a rifle. If you've ever read The Most Dangerous Game, it was basically like that, except underground instead of on an island, and I had to keep the girl safe at the same time as myself.

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa takes a long sip of her beer. )

You don't fuck about with lightweight stories, do you?

( Talk about getting right to the point, Jesus Christ. No gentle warm up stories today, apparently.

More soberly, ) You both get out all right?

sarah.

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa has her arm wrapped up. Not fixed up, not perfectly, not with any kind of magic yet because she's still not sure what she makes of that shit. Honestly, she'd rather not talk about it, which probably means charging over to Sarah's place is dumb as hell, but she has this ice cream and she didn't mean to pick a fight with Sarah, so here she is.

"Dumb as hell" is the tagline for her life anyway, yeah?

So she's knocking with her decent hand, ice cream awkwardly held with the same arm, and as soon as the door opens she is smoothly stepping inside. )

Took your bloody time.

( Not talking about any arguments? Pretending they didn't happen? Yeah, okay. )

[coppelganger]

[ Sarah steps back as Sarissa walks in like she owns the place. She takes in the wrapped up arm, the ice cream, and the look of casual indifference. She knows exactly what Sarissa's game is, because she herself has pulled the same thing dozens of times with Felix. Half the time it even works.

She goes to take the ice cream from Sarissa, raising an eyebrow. ]

I wasn't expecting anyone. You haven't got that fixed yet?

[magnitudes]

What, you forgot I was coming over? I know I'm the new kid, but that's a bit harsh.

( And a look at her arm. )

Cosima said she'd do it. Ice cream first though.

( Cosima said she had healing powers, but whatever, close enough. ) You up for just going to town with spoons, or are you the fancy "let's use bowls" sort?

[coppelganger]

Do I look fancy to you?

[ In fact, she probably looks the least fancy Sarissa's ever seen her (which isn't saying too much, but still). Getting a killer parasite cut out of your face without any anesthetic is hell on your motivation to do anything besides lie around and drink to forget.

Sarah deposits the ice cream on the coffee table and heads into the kitchen to grab a couple spoons. She gestures to the TV as she goes, calling over her shoulder, ] Movie collection's over there. Pick whatever. [ The selection is mostly stuff you'd expect of Sarah: Sid and Nancy, La Haine—but there's a decent number of more mainstream movies (or their MoMverse equivalents) too. ]

[magnitudes]

Fancier than me.

( Again, not saying much, because she's got a split lip and a bruise purpling her arm and her shoulder and most of her right side, honestly. )

This La Haine thing any good?

( And, leaning back to better call to the kitchen: ) Does it have any dinosaurs?

Bela.

[magnitudes]

( Unlike in the case of the long neglected Kogami, who was treated to good-beer-terrible-location, Sarissa makes a modicum of effort picking somewhere halfway decent to get a drink with Bela. The difference is largely that Bela is a woman, and a really attractive woman, and Sarissa has this idea in her head that women should be taken to nicer places than blokes anyway. Call her (really ineffectively) old fashioned, or something.

The point is that it's a nice bar, the sort with seats that are made of plush leather that's worn in nicely instead of torn up and tattered or sticky with God-only-knows, and the top shelf stuff probably won't run the risk of leaving you blind. It has a wine list, okay, that's fancy. (No chicken wings, though, sadly. That's the counter balance to the niceness.)

Sarissa has secured a seat in a corner table, clear view of the door and there's a part of her that has an exit strategy planned despite everything, and she's even made the effort to wear something other than beat up jeans and a plaid shirt, because apparently that's what you do when you don't want to be a total disaster of a human being. (Still jeans, sure, but they're nice ones and the shirt is still a button down, but it's dark blue with nary a pattern to be seen. She deserves a medal or something, clearly.)

Maybe less classy is the glass of beer she's already been laying into when Bela arrives, but hey, she's not perfect and the thirst was real. ) Hey.

( With a lazy grin, that. ) You doing alright?

[cleptes]

[ The bar was nice, Bela could see that. She also had standards and would defend her right to have those standards whenever she went out to meet someone. The fact that she'd been to a few dive bars in her time here was irrelevant because sometimes, she wanted to drink cheap whiskey in a dimly lit hellhole.

She isn't wearing jeans and a shirt like Sarissa. Instead, Bela opts for a plain shift dress that ends just above the knee and fits her like a glove. ]

Hey. [ Bela replies with a smile as she sits down on the empty chair. ] Yeah, I'm doing fine. You?

[ Keeping it cool and casual despite the flirting that had been going on between them over the network not so long ago. ]

[magnitudes]

Oh, flawless, obviously. ( Self mocking, somehow. She's a big old mess, she knows it, and she feels partway guilty sometimes for subjecting people to the disaster that is herself, but she's never got any kind of expectation or high opinion of herself. Bela could probably throw a drink at her head and she'd accept it as something she deserved, even if she threw out indignant words about it.

Sarissa grins, lopsided, hands in her pockets-- and she's old fashioned despite herself, so she stands up and all as Bela approaches, even if her hands stay lazily shoved in her pockets. )

What's your drink of choice? I promise not to judge, just I might order mozzarella sticks.

[cleptes]

Wine, I think. A glass of Chardonnay would do just rightly. [Today was not a day for whisky.] I'll pass on the mozzarella sticks though. I'm not hungry.

[ Bela wouldn't admit it, but she isn't entirely sure what mozzarella sticks were. From the content alone she could guess that they were likely unhealthy and not something she wished to eat right now. ]

I'll get the next drink, alright?

[magnitudes]

Pretty sure it'd be un-Australian of me not to remind you about that, later.

( Free drinks are Extremely Serious Business, except for how her grin is conspiratorial before she saunters to the bar. It takes her a couple of minutes, but she emerges victorious, with an Extremely Good (read: most expensive) glass of Chardonnay and some sort of tropical cocktail monstrosity with two colourful umbrellas and more pineapple spears than any one person should be expected to live with.

She sets Bela's drink down carefully, before claiming her own chair and eyeing her drink with some concern. ) I would like the records to show that is not what I was expecting when I ordered it.

cosima.

[magnitudes]

( Truth be told, she feels a bit shit that the number one reason she's going to hang out with Cosima boils down to her intense dislike of doctors, hospitals and necessary doctor procedures in hospitals. Doesn't seem right, the same as it feels a bit too familiar for certain elements of her life. No point tumbling down that particular rabbit hole.

She goes where's she's told to, but on the way she aquires one (1) bottle of baileys, one (1) bottle of vodka, one (1) of those giant bags of chocolate covered pretzels, and a backpack to put it all in because she didn't have a bag when she went out. (The backpack has some ridiculous cat print on it that made her roll her eyes, and thus seemed perfect for someone like Cosima.)

Sarissa is arriving post-Sarah hang outs, which means she's been dealing with a broken wrist for a few hours, and holds it close to her chest with her opposite arm as she kicks the door (gently-ish) a few times in place of knocking. )

Uh, this is for you, ( and with that she sort of awkwardly leans for Cosima to retrieve ridiculous cat bag from her shoulder, rather than hand it over. That's just how she rolls, apparently. )

[doubleblind]

[Cosima had been expecting Sarissa and hurries to the door, abandoning her laptop and a couple of journal articles on the couch. She seems unphased by Sarissa's somewhat atypical gift offering, but she takes the bag with a grin. She's careful with it before swinging it onto her back, unsure what might be inside. (She's 98% sure there'll be some quality alcohol.)]

What's in it? Not that the bag itself isn't awesome...

[magnitudes]

Traditional Australian breakfast.

( Without missing a beat, that, and with an entirely serious expression before she raises her eyebrows and grins. ) I was guessing what you'd like. You seem like a sugary cocktail kind of person.

( Or tequila, but tequila is dangerous so... Baileys and vodka, ayyy. With the bag relinquished, Sarissa keeps a more steady hold on her wrist, annnnd makes a tenative step inside her apartment.)

You also seem like the kind of person who'd either have a small dog that I'm going to accidentally step on, or a tarantula.

( Please, Satan, don't have a tarantula. )

[doubleblind]

[Cosima moves fluidly to drop the bag off in the kitchen, while directing Sarissa to the couch with an exaggerated wave of her hand. There's no need for Sarissa to be tentative, she's a guest and family, Cosima won't have her thinking she isn't welcome.]

Red wine's my go to drink, but sugary's always good. Thanks, man.

Take a seat. Promise you won't sit on any small animals. My girlfriend got a cat and I think one pet between the two of us is enough. Long lab hours and pets aren't the best combo.

[magnitudes]

Red wine, please. Ouzo, now that is a go-to drink.

( She loves red wine, but don't tell anyone. With the wave, Sarissa awkwardly sort of-- she stops mid-step, turns and re-directs herself to the sofa, and about two steps in is making herself seem a lot more at home than she actually is, flumping on the sofa and just quietly gritting her teeth as the recklessness of the motion jars her arm.

She's good at this. )

No, probably not. Georgia really wanted us to get a, uh-- Christ, I don't even remember. She liked all those huge dog breeds though, yeah? And they're great, they are, but maybe not a mountain dog in Australia.

( A beat, and she grimaces a bit at the mention of Georgia not having the requisite level of vitriol for self-preservation, before shrugging. ) So. How we do the thing?

jaime.

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa isn't neighbourly. She's seen more episodes of Neighbours than she'd ever like to admit, but she herself is not neighbourly. She's not sure if she buys into the whole neiigghhboouurrss should be there for one anoooooother schtick, or that good neighbours become good friends. Somehow, though, the opening jingle of a soap opera that probably hasn't changed since 1985, is the sort of thing that has worked its way into her consciousness despite all efforts to the latter.

On the plus side, Neighbours had launched the careers of Kylie Minogue and Delta Goodrem. On the negative side, it had launched the careers of Kylie Minogue and Delta Goodrem.

Anyway, point is, Jaime gave her food one time and let her hang, and she still hasn't paid him back, which is a bit of a shit thing to do and not at all befitting the fine rolemodel that she was presented via Ramsey Street and Grundy Television and what would the Kennedys say? Especially given the recent carnage which she... honestly isn't sure she grasps, totally, but whatever.

She's carrying three pizzas, has a slice from one of them hanging from her teeth, and a sixpack of glass coke bottles tucked under her arm. There are no hands free, and she is too stubborn to just put shit down, so here she is, gently (not gently) kicking the door in place of knocking. )

Re: jaime.

[khajidont]

[To be honest, Jaime's kind of forgotten about Sarissa. His life has been a whirlwind these days, in more ways than one, and he's done little more than the bare minimum expected of him; attended class, because he can't afford to fail again, went to work, because he can't afford to lose his job, and visit Ken, because he can't afford to lose him either.

All in all, it's been about the basics. Which means that when it comes to impromptu visitors, he's absolutely home, but also not exactly the greatest company in the world; he's civil and friendly, but doesn't make a move to go beyond that. Of course, when he's in the middle of the good old fashioned activity of staring at the ceiling, only to be interrupted by someone audibly kicking at his door.]

Oh, for the -- I can hear you!

[He gets to the door, and swings it open with an impatient expression on his face, and says,] There are better ways of...

[Oh. He hadn't been expecting Sarissa. That peeved expression fades almost immediately, but it's replaced with confusion.] Hi?

Re: jaime.

[magnitudes]

G'day. ( The a is drawled out, even more so than she normally would - a very lazy a that makes the word go maybe three seconds longer than is strictly necessary for a greeting. It has the effect of making her seem overly confident and full of herself even though she's talking around dough and toppings, and she expectantly holds out the boxes of pizza. )

I owed you dinner. ( Hopefully she can take the slice out of her mouth if he's accepted the boxes, but even if he hasn't she forges on. ) Found this place that seemed pretty decent. Do a special if you buy three, so.

( Here she is. ) How've you been?

[khajidont]

[He does, in fact, accept the boxes, but that doesn't stop him from looking any less bewildered. Most people would call first, maybe make sure that they haven't eaten yet (Jaime hasn't; when he's depressed, hot meals are the first thing to go, and he's been subsisting very satisfactorily on cereal thank you very much, because vegetables are an optional part of life), maybe make sure that they're home? But then again, he met Sarissa when she was trying to pick his lock, so maybe he shouldn't expect that much more out of her.]

Wow. Um, thank you! I wasn't serious about you paying me back for that take-out, you know.

[He takes a step back, pizzas in tow.]

Come on in.

caitlin.

[magnitudes]

( She doesn't like June.

It's not June yet, but it's May and as the month before June, it's also a bit of a shit. And that'd have been the case if she didn't need to remember every day that she was in a new world and that apparently she's either a clone or she's just been absorbed into some kind of cult of people that she'd take hard knocks for, and if she didn't still wake up and find her gut feeling hollowed out. If it were October she could make some ridiculous and melodramatic comparisons to pumpkins and lanterns, at least, but here she is in May, and her melancoly is out of season. Pumpkincholy. Cholyflower-- never mind.

She's in a bar, and she's keeping to herself. It's a classy bar partly because she liked the beer selection and partly because it was nearby, and maybe the thought that the wine is too expensive will keep Cosima out and the everything is too classy will keep Sarah out, and the alcohol will probably rule out Alison. Maybe.

She doesn't really know. She doesn't really know them, and she hates that it bothers her so much. She hates that despite all her efforts to the contrary, she still scares.

And she hates that she can overhear this guy a few stools along a counter that's some sort of fancy hard wood that's shiny enough to substitute for a mirror, hitting on a girl with lines that are two shades short of shady as fucking hell. )

Listen, mate. ( Her voice is a quiet drawl, seems stronger and more country than normal with the booze dragging on it more, as she doesn't bother looking up from her beer. ) Pretty sure that if the lady made her disinterest any more obvious she'd have to tell you to fuck right off.

( Sarissa does look, now, and though she's not even a little bit tall, she eyes him as if he's beneath her. ) Leave her be. You're not worth her time.

( Part of her hopes he takes it badly, because that anger that always burns low key is constant and always eating at her, and when she grins at the sight of his fist clenching she knows she's got him. )