ArchivedLogs:Coffee and Tylenol

Coffee and Tylenol
Dramatis Personae Anette, Daken	The morning after St. Patrick's Day Contains references to adult themes
Location <NYC> 202 {Anette} - Sunrise Apartments - Clinton
This studio apartment is not big, the living area L-shaped with the entrance at one end and a kitchenette found at the other, its linoleum old and peeling. The shabby carpeting in the combination livingroom-bedroom area carries the stains and smells of tenants long past, frayed and peeling at its corners with the ghosts-scents of smokers of yesteryear. In the cramped bathroom in the back, water damage stains the walls. As does rust, around the showerhead in the tiny shower stall. It's early the next morning after St. Patrick's day, and Daken is already out and about. Figuratively speaking of course, he's really just in a pair of boxer briefs, making a cup of Anette's coffee. "I hope they don't allows animals here.." he grumbles groggily, nostrils flaring. "The smell from the carpets might kill them." He turns the mug of black liquid up before turning around to lean against the counter. The sun has been up for some time but Anette most definitely has not. She's still tangled in her blankets, passed out and sleeping off last night's activities. All of them. She managed to sleep through the sunlight shining directly onto her face, even Daken getting up and fumbling about the kitchen. Her sleeping abilities are no match for the scent of bad coffee. She finally shifts and grumbles, lifting her head to squint in Daken's direction. "Whatever happened to sneaking out in the middle of the night? People used to have manners..." she grumbles, stretching and reaching under the bed for a ratty bathrobe. She slips it on and makes her way over towards the kitchen, sitting down at her dining room table, still in the process of waking up. "Course they allow pets, how do you think the smell got here in the first place?" "I was going to.. But I figured you might have a hangover. And I usually slam the door once I'm on the other side of it." He flashes her an easy enough grin, turning to make another cup. "Well, it smells like somebody spilled the bong over there." he motions towards the main sitting area of the studio, and then up towards the ceiling. "And like one of the residents smoked at least a pack a day. Probably why they lived here, cigarettes are rather frighteningly expensive in New York." He stops talking to look back over at Anette, "How do you take it? Coffee, that is." "Well, you weren't wrong about the hangover bit. I've had worse though," Anette says, standing up and making her way to a cabinet where she pulls out a bottle of Tylenol. Popping three, she sits down at the table and puts the bottle in the middle. "I stopped trying to decipher the smells ages ago. Best if you don't think about it." She glances up towards the ceiling, where it does have an odd yellow color. "Smoking, the one vice I never got into. Flight requires a surprising amount of lung power." She glances towards the coffee as Daken offers it. "Right now, I'd chew on the beans if you handed them to me." Daken nods slightly, moving over to the table as well. He sets down Anette's cup, black as well. "I'd recognize your smell in a crowded room. The smells here would drive me crazy.. Might look into another apartment building." He reaches down to rub lightly at the back of her neck, between her shoulders. "A bit more room to move about, if there's a next time we go drinking." Anette slowly sips at her coffee, savoring every drop and smell for a moment before setting the mug down. "Ugh, I'd hate that, being able to smell everything. Sight and hearing are headache enough. Literally sometimes." As Daken moves behind her, she closes her eyes, drooping her head as she enjoys the massage. "I don't know if I should be letting someone with claws do this..." Daken rests the palm of his hand at the base of Anette's skull. "Why, does it bother you that I could pop your head?" he asks with a touch of amusement in his tone, before leaning over to press his lips to the woman's temple if she allows it. "Rather blow your mind in other ways. Doesn't cut the fun short that way." "It may have crossed my mind." Anette raises her mug once more and continues to sip at it. "Next time...let's do this without the drinking." She can't help but smirk slightly at the kiss. "So do you do this often? Go home with random drunk ladies?" "Of course not. They're never random, I make sure I've met them at least once before." Daken says with a wink. He takes a sip from his own mug, setting it down on the table before pulling a chair up so he can sit with his arms around Anette's waist, chin on her shoulder. "Think the last one was an up and coming model, but her name escapes me. Oh, no. It was her assistant, that's right. Nervous little thing with red hair." He chuckles gently, flashing a small grin. Anette can't help but chuckle. "Sixty something years and you can't even get the model? You have to settle for the assistant? You poor thing..." She pops another Tylenol and washes it down with more coffee. "So you hook up with carefully chosen drunk ladies then? I'm honored." "Oh no, I got both of them." Daken presses another kiss to Anette's neck. "And you should only be mildly impressed. If that hangover's done with before I head out, then you'll have a chance to feel honored. I'd suggest the shower.. But we'd probably fall through it." “Judging from some the stains in the bathroom...I think the shower's been used for that before. Multiple times." She spins around in her chair to face Daken, resting her hands on his waist and pulling him close. "Oh I think the hangover's recovering enough. Like I said, I've had much, much worse." "Is that so?" Daken asks with a raised brow, pecking at Anette's lips. "This place is gross." he flashes that teasing smirk of his. "Gonna have to drag you out to go half-and-half on a place in Hell's Kitchen. I'll have to start supplying local dealers or find a stable job for it though. Can't do too many hits a year, last thing I need is them realizing I'm the one doing it." "Are you always this forward?" Anette says, raising a brow. "You barely know a girl and just slept with her and you're already asking her to live with you? Here I thought we were going to pretend none of this happened and act like we barely know each other until one of us is drunk again." She shakes her head and grins at Daken's next bit about work. "I don't know anything you just said and I'm not sure whether to not ask or ask you to invite me. I need more work to afford this shithole." "I never said you could live there. Just that you were welcome to go half and half on it, on the condition we hook up there." Daken lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug, before laughing a bit. "You asked me what I did for work the other night, well occasionally I'm a gunman of sorts. Though I usually don't use a gun. I know this genetic testing thing has been a bitch, makes work harder." "You would think if they're hiring people to kill, they wouldn't care too much who's doing it. And as fun as hooking up with you is, I don't know if it's quite worth going half and half on an apartment for." For some reason, the idea of being a gunman doesn't seem to concern Anette too much. "I've never been one for guns. I prefer knives. Fits with the whole bird thing, sort of replacement claws. Though if the dreams mean anything, I'll have claws of my own soon."