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maskormenacelogs2017-04-11 07:58 am
magnitudes) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-04-11 07:58 am
Entry tags:
slam it to the left
WHO: Sarissa and Darlene
WHERE: A BAR, Mauritia Falls
WHEN: backdated to after Sarissa's return network post, pre-dream stuff
WHAT: shots and shittalking
WARNINGS: I feel like Sarissa and Darlene are warnings in and of themselves tbh
( She hasn't had a chance to dye her hair back to normal yet, and she regrets everything about it. Well— okay, no, she sort of enjoys it, but she also misses the wavy monstrosity. There's a lot of things that on her mind more significant than the hair, mind, it's just that the hair is easier to figure out. Realising that six months were spent away from good friends, that sucks. Remembering dying, twice, in deeply unpleasant ways? That kinda sucked, too.
It was easier to try and shove all those things in a box to feel later, in theory, but Sarissa's efforts to do that were rarely as successful as other people's seemed to be, like the box just overflowed and there she'd be, having intense emotions despite her best efforts at repression.
For now she's content to slouch against the counter next to Darlene, and raise her eyebrows. In her worst and most terrible fake Chicago: ) Girl.
WHERE: A BAR, Mauritia Falls
WHEN: backdated to after Sarissa's return network post, pre-dream stuff
WHAT: shots and shittalking
WARNINGS: I feel like Sarissa and Darlene are warnings in and of themselves tbh
( She hasn't had a chance to dye her hair back to normal yet, and she regrets everything about it. Well— okay, no, she sort of enjoys it, but she also misses the wavy monstrosity. There's a lot of things that on her mind more significant than the hair, mind, it's just that the hair is easier to figure out. Realising that six months were spent away from good friends, that sucks. Remembering dying, twice, in deeply unpleasant ways? That kinda sucked, too.
It was easier to try and shove all those things in a box to feel later, in theory, but Sarissa's efforts to do that were rarely as successful as other people's seemed to be, like the box just overflowed and there she'd be, having intense emotions despite her best efforts at repression.
For now she's content to slouch against the counter next to Darlene, and raise her eyebrows. In her worst and most terrible fake Chicago: ) Girl.
no subject
Okay, you are not nearly as good at that as you think you are.
[Helpful. She stands on her toes with her elbows planted on the bartop, arms folded, the better by which to hitch herself forward and get the bartender's attention. It isn't super hard. The bar is pretty busy, slightly less dive-y than previous meetup spots, and has a trendier crowd. All the same, Darlene is good at getting attention when she wants it, and the bartender acknowledges her with one of those what's up nods and the international-slash-dimensional one sec finger. Douches are douches no matter what dimension.
Content, Darlene sinks back.]
Real talk though, what is with that hair.
no subject
( Internally there's a whole big mess of AHHH happening, but banter and shittalking are a welcome distraction. Thank God for Darlene Brand banter. )
Well, I mean. Mostly it seemed like a good idea at the time, helping get in character or some shit like that. And I hadn't dyed my hair before, so I thought, why not.
( With that, she huffs a stray section of hair out of her face, and shrugs. ) Mistakes were made, suffice to say. How's things with you? No bad hair choices?
no subject
[Hair, the same. Attitude, the same. Shittalking, the samey same. When douche bartender swaggers over, with his towel thrown over his shoulder, Darlene hitches herself back up to the bar and puts in their order for two low quality beers and two picklebacks.]
I did discover this place while you were off doing your Kool-Aid dye. [She jerks her chin to indicate the bar at large.] I'm honestly a little over the total dive experience right now. This friggin' oyster bar I was hitting up? Disgusting. At least this place does decent music. What's your character supposed to be? I'm getting a real Hot Topic mall rat vibe.
no subject
( Sarissa huffs out a quiet laugh. and nods. ) Okay. So, how many crime shows are there with some quirky, ( with air quotes ) girl that's different and weird but really charming? The audience gets her, even if the people around her don't, because they're squares, and it creates a special relationship or insight or some bullshit like that? ( She doesn't wait for a response, because she assumes Darlene is genre savvy enough to know what she's talking about. )
I was trying to be the quirky science girl. Except the off-brand Chicago version making bombs. "Hot Topic mall rat" is about right, but.
no subject
I'm into the bomb thing. The rest of it is making me inner ralph.
[Bleck. She pulls a face right as the bartender swings back with the shots. Or, really: two empty glasses, and two glasses filled with a pale greenish briney liquid that is, actually, brine. The empty glasses he fills with whiskey. Darlene ignores him outright this time as she grabs the closes shot whiskey glass, pushes the other one over to her with the back of her free hand.]
Pickleback time. Whiskey first, then pickle juice. On three.
no subject
( With an obnoxiously bright and cheery smile, the kind that totally doesn't say "haha I'm smart and hilarious" so much as "that was terrible but please consider not punching me."
Except that she's Sarissa, so it kind of says the first thing, too.
but wait wait wait wait wait, Sarissa points to the brine. )
Wait, hang on, pickle juice? We're drinking pickle juice? What kinda monster invented that? You know pickles are the worst thing in the world, right?
no subject
No, the worst thing in the world is that dye job of yours. Already confirmed. Pick up your shot, come on. I have been sober way too long today.
no subject
( she does not sound heartbroken at all, but obediently picks up her shot. ) To kickstarting our liver damage.
( And back goes her whiskey, delicious, before she grabs the pickle brine and makes a face of impending regret at it before tossing that back, too. )
no subject
[--is Darlene's answering toast, before she knocks back her shots--one, then the other, immediate. She grins as she gulps down the mouthful of pickle juice and sets down the glasses with two triumphant tocks, glass against wood.
Pleased with tonight's choices so far, she grins over at Sarissa.]
Tastes like the ocean, right.
[And that is a good thing.]
no subject
Ugh, God. If the ocean is flavoured with suffering, maybe. ( still - a crooked, delighted grin. ) We gotta do carbombs, next.
Oh, before I forget, ( as if this is a throwaway comment, ) I'm 'fficially a cop, now.
no subject
[Darlene agrees, with relish. Strategically ignores the part about the suffering because she will have plenty of time to talk shit on Sarissa, no need to blow her wad on that now. She licks the corner of her mouth as she flags down the bartender, gives a delighted little grin at the briney taste.
Wait.]
Oh, shit. For real?
[Cop. She grins at Sarissa, a little darker.]
Now we're talking. That means I'm buying, okay? Preliminary congratulations or whatever.
no subject
( Still, she grins at the bartender, cocky dickhead that he is. )
Two carbombs. ( And back to Darlene, ) Gonna be back in bomb disposal and that, too. Good times.
no subject
[Left out of the conversation, the bartender is filling the pint glasses as ordered. Darlene continues to ignore him now that she's gotten what she wants out of him. Brothers leads her to--]
Before I forget and you start bringing some Greek casseroles over to his place--Elliot's gone. My big update.
[She scuds her index finger through a ring of drinksweat left behind on the bartop, both impatient and dispassionate.]
no subject
( That's a quiet, understated sort of dryness to that - to the untrained ear it might just sound like she's genuinely agreeing, but to those who have suffered Sarissa exposure, it has can be Identified as Full Of Shit. She's about to follow it up with some delightful Sarissa Brand zing to go with the bullshit, when her mind catches up to her.
A collection of moments, equally distributed between
1. looking at Darlene in mute surprise, mouth slightly open
2. closing her mouth, opening it again, thinking better of it
3. a pause
And finally, words happen. ) I'd say we should do car bombs in your brother's honour, but it'd probably sound wrong.
( It's been six months on her side of things, and she's trying to sort through a whole bunch of memories and think of what to say, instead of just shaking her head and blinking in that well, okay, shit sort of way that isn't like regular blinking, slower and exaggerated. She knows this'll probably get an unhelpful response, but Sarissa's gonna Sarissa, so: ) You doin' okay?
no subject
[So it would be meaningless, as far as memorials go. She doesn't give a shit about wrong. And here is Darlene's expected response, probably right on time--]
I'm fine, obviously.
[Like, have you seen her. Totally fine. She scuds her finger back through the ring again, with a scowl.]
And I do not want to get all touchy-feely about this, okay, I don't want a hug. Mostly didn't want you to look like a total tool, so, you're welcome.
[And thank god the carbombs are here now. The douche bartender, doing a terrible job of reading the room, pops in the shots and pushes the glasses across the bar to them with an, enjoy, ladies.
Immediately, Darlene grabs hers and takes a big sip.]
no subject
( When Alison left, Sarissa felt like she got hit in the chest with a crowbar, and she wasn't even— they weren't family. And maybe that made it feel worse, partways, 'cause she knew they weren't even going to be seeing each other again. )
No touchy-feely, promise. 'Fraid, mate, that even your charity ain't gonna save me from being a tool. ( She gives Darlene a crooked sort of grin, and tips back more of her carbomb. ) Appreciate the effort, but.
no subject
[With a measure of forced breeziness, she slurps at her drink once more, following Sarissa's suit. Drinking keeps her from word vomiting any elaboration, which she isn't tempted to do--but fuck what she wants, right.
Because Darlene is kind of scared. Because part of what it means to live in unflinching certainty that this whole show is just that, a show--in the certainty that there are no guarantees and no certainties and maybe a do-over but not goddamn likely--part of what all that means is that Elliot is gone. Not dead, just gone. Gone home strikes Darlene as honestly a bullshit answer, way too simple and easy for this place. What else it could be, that's where paranoia puts teeth in her.
All this means that she takes another drink almost immediately after she's swallowed her last sip. Her fingers are just a tiny bit shaky when she pushes her hair out of her face. Fuck that, fuck that, fuck all of this.]
You should bake yourself a first-day-of-cop cake and bring it into the break room. Pigs'll love it. Way better than shitty Dunkin. Maybe hold the weed.
fires grappling hook and drags self back into this thread
( But, if she knew about that burying of word vomiting - and she has a certain amount of experience with word vomit especially, as well as clusterfuck emotional monstrosities - she might say something to encourage her to not bury it.
Then again, maybe she wouldn't, because she's also spent more than two seconds in Darlene's presence, and admitting to feelings might make her wither as surely as the Wicked Witch when exposed to water. Not that she's going to make that comparison, either. That would just be a downward spiral of clusterfuck and possibly being stabbed with a cocktail stick. So really Sarissa just has a long list of things she wouldn't do, and she's tipping back this drink because she can't think what to do. ) Guinness and chocolate cheesecake, by the way, heaps good. If you want to pretend that you need to eat your feelings just gimme a heads up and I'll whip something together for you.
( She grins, very bright, and leans against the counter. ) What if I made a cake that looked like a giant donut. Too much? Or maybe I could make a giant donut that looks like a cake. There's all sorts of potential.
enfolds to bosom of thread
[Unrelated to feelings, of which Darlene obviously has next to none. She raises her eyebrows like that was a challenge, and slurps another mouthful of car bomb. Almost loses it to her smirk, which tugs up at the corners of her mouth. Relaxed under the influence of a good buzz, and under the power of her own ability to put shit firmly out of mind. Plus Sarissa is okay company at least.]
No, dude, seriously fuck with them. A giant donut that's just a donut. But it's so big it looks like a cake. Blow their collective little minds with that, that's totally the foot you want to start off on.
no subject
( Darlene can be a hollow shell of a human being, and Sarissa will think she knows better, and it can remain a mystery what is actually the truth - except that Sarissa will be a full stealth conspiracy theorist about Darlene's secret emotions, even if it is confirmed with proof that she feels no feels. Fight her.
Sarissa, for now, is content to grab her drink and keep nursing it. )
Nice. Alright, consider it done. I'll send you photo evidence. Make giant decorative sprinkles that are made out of a bunch of actual sprinkles. it'll be a masterpiece.
no subject
[A deal which, to seal, Darlene reaches out to clink her glass against Sarissa's, regardless of where it is in the trajectory of her next sip. Maybe she'll slosh a little drink on her face. That's okay, because Darlene is a shell of a human being with zero emotions!]
Okay, so when you are a cop and have totally wormed into the hearts of like, every Joe Blow with a badge. What kind of secret intel are you going to collect for me?
no subject
Probably some of it'll depend what I get assigned to. Gonna keep my ear to the ground for any taskforces on cyber activity, all that kinda crap, give you a heads up when to cool your hacker jets.
( Or whatever the proper terminology was, whatever. )
Starters I might just get info on whatever I can to run by you, see what might be of interest. Then I can refine it some. For now I reckon security and any kinda ImPort profiling that might be happening could be a good start.
no subject
I like it. I suggest not getting directly involved in any cybercrime taskforce so we don't get a Matt-Damon-in-Departed sitch going down. Just hook up with someone on the taskforce or get cozy with a secretary or whatever.
imPort profiling is def a place to start but I bet they keep you far away from that. 'Cause, [a single fingergun in Sarissa's direction,] imPort. I bet you get splashed onto all the promo brochures and stuff though.
no subject
Uh, I dunno mate - something that's brightly coloured and has fruit spears, or something.
( A glance to Darlene, to see if she also wants a fruity abomination, and once it's confirmed either way she waits for bardude to move on before she resumes Their Plotting Chats, )
I'd be a great poster girl. Don't worry, I won't let it go to me head. Autograph everything and spend time with my fans, you know, be deep. ( She's taking peanuts out of a bowl and arranging them into some kinda pattern, rather than eating them. ) There anything specific that you're involved in that I can warn you about?
no subject
I want to know about imPort crimes. Who reports them, who decides what the punishments are, and who picks the parole officers. And I want to know about any surveillance or tracking that goes on with those criminals. If they keep tabs on them after they're off parole.
And, [with a smirk, as she lifts her glass to take a drink,] I want a copy of your autographed brochure.