ArchivedLogs:Cookies and Naked Time

Cookies and Naked Time
Dramatis Personae Doug, Hive, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-02-08 De-escalation.
Location <NYC> 503 {Doug} - Village Lofts - East Village
It takes time to travel from Greenwich Village to the East Village. Time that Shelby has spent alternating from silent rage to the dark depths of self-pity. Walking from the subway to the Village Lofts was no easy feat either and the frustration of slogging through snow on unshoveled sidewalks has left the teenager near undone by the time she reaches the building. It's /still/ not clear how she gains access to the building, it being secure and all, but she does. The snow layer accumulated outside is melting by the time she arrives at Doug's door. A cursory knock is followed by said door then being swung wide open so she can enter. Shelby is a pathetic sight, flushed, mussed and teary-eyed. Her nose is running both from emotions and the cold. "Doug? Anwyn?" The shower is going when the door swings open, and Doug can be heard singing lustily over the water. His song breaks off, though at the sound of a voice in the other room, and a moment later the water also shuts off. "Hello?" The voice is uncertain behind the sound of a shower curtain being pulled back and a towel being whipped off the metal towel bar. A few seconds later, Doug emerges from the bathroom, dripping water from his hair and where his joints (like elbows) stick out. The towel is slung low on his hips, and the blonde has a frown on his face as he walks into the living room. "Shelby?" His mouth pulls into a tight line at her apparent state. "What's happened? Are you okay?" One would think a wet, towel-clad young man in the prime of his life would cheer the girl up. But, after blinking at him a few times, Shelby's face crumples and she bursts into tears. "N-no, I'm fucking /not/!" she has time to wail before her hands come up to cover her face. Her hooded head bows and sends a shower of snow onto the floor. "I'm /horrible/! I'm an asshole and everyone /hates me/!" At least, that's probably what she says. The message is somewhat garbled on account of the hands to face issue. Doug blinks at the sudden wash of tears, and he /almost/ offers the towel at his waist to dry them, only he remembers at the last possible minute how bad a plan that is. "Whoa," he says, rushing to get a wad of paper towels from the roll and heading back over to where the girl is sobbing. He might be attempting to clumsily blot her face as he speaks in (hopefully) a soothing voice. "What's all this about? Who said you're an asshole?" "L-lucien. He's..." He's a fucking cruel asshole. But she's too busy sniffing to articulate it. Shelby undoes some of the dabbing help by scrubbing at her face and hitching in a shaky breath. She hates crying. /Hates/ it. It's so ugly. So the paper towels are taken right out of Doug's hand to begin wiping up before she gets too goopy. "He said. He said I shit all over people. And. And I was trying to /apologize/." Another sniff, and the soppy paper towels are lowered so she can pathetic up at Doug. "I'm sorry. I was. I should've just. Gone to the bus station. Or whatever. But it's snowing." Pause for a beat. "You're naked." << /Are/ you an asshole? You're really noisy, at least. >> Hive could knock. Instead his mind HAMMERS in at Shelby's in its typically abrasive bludgeoning. And then: KNOCK. Knock! Knock! "It's New York," he's calling on the other side of the door, "/everyone's/ a fucking asshole." "Lucien?" Doug frowns. "The...ah, escort?" He seems surprised to hear that name mentioned, and he abandons the paper towels to Shelby, still frowning. Man. Everyone I meet these days knows everyone else. I should move to an island or something. Actually, that would be worse. "So, you're here crying because a high-end hooker told you that you shit on people?" There's a deep furrowing of his brows, and he folds his arms over his chest. "Um. Priorities, much?" Then Hive's at the door, and Doug is grinning. "It's open!" he yells at the door. Then he's motioning at his torso. "Yes. Being naked helps the getting clean part of showering," he explains. "You're welcome to try it. I have hot water and everything." His tone is teasing as he heads towards his bedroom. "Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge. Alex brought me some mint chocolate chip cookies the other night." ANd then he's disappearing, although the door to his room stays open. << !!! >> Shelby is not entirely accustomed to Hive's mindvoice and she's at a low anyway--her reaction is suitably dramatic, complete with whine and clutching at her temples. A few more tears squeak out. Sooo pathetic. "Goddamnit, Hive." Also a first, her reacting negatively to the telepath. She shuffles away from the door to clear it and begins pulling at her clothes, sniffing heavily as she does. "It was /how/ he did it," she mumbles, except that's not really it. Sure, having the door slammed and Lucien's face in hers was startling but she was pissed and hurt looong before that. Last time I try to say sorry to that cockmunch. "He's not even /from/ fucking New York." "S'New York," Hive says, slipping in -- he's dressed for BED in black sweatpants, frayed at the bottoms, and a sleeveless undershirt, "nobody's from New York. C'mon, don't front, you're as much an asshole as the rest of us. DUDE, I could hear your naked from a floor away." Or maybe that was the crying. "That dude from last night's a hooker? So he's like, /professionally/ pretty. Cool. I felt underdressed." Doug is clearly changing, from his thoughts, although there's a tangle of Lucien and confusion in there, too. "Listen to Hive," he calls from the other room. "The fact is, you'll die in New York if you're not an asshole sometimes. And people shit on each other all the time." He emerges then, clad in a pair of sweatshorts and a tee shirt with a giant mouth and the phrase 'I'm all about the megabytes' emblazoned below it. "It's the nature of humanity." He frowns at Hive's question, and visibly waffles at answering. "Yeah," he finally allows, blushing a bit. Man. Between him and the redhead, I'm going to have to watch what I say or think around here. "Why did he say you're an asshole and shit on people?" "Sure, but I was trying to say /sorry/." Shelby begins to leak frustration again because the boys are Not Getting It. She ends up venting that by throwing her hat and mittens at the couch--not a bad change from crying, right? "I went over there to talk and say sorry and Mel was there and right away he starts giving me /shit/. Then he said it wasn't /good/ enough and that he was allowed to get in my business because I made one fucking /joke/ about hitting him up for money," she says, landing beside her discarded cold weather wear with a whumph. Her hands rake through her hair, rumpling and frizzing it. "He tried to get Doc to kick me out," she finishes glumly, "to go back to school or get a "real" job. Because I asked him for money." "Mmhmm." Hive sounds like he's Totally Listening, Yo! Although maybe he's listening more mentally than with his ears because he looks slightly distracted through this. "-- joke," sounds a little skeptical in his repeating of it, though. "There's worse things in life than finishing school and getting a job, yo. Having to hit people up for cash all the time's one of them." He says this with a grimace. "I call it a good day when I don't need Jim buying my fucking coffee. Doug's right, though. Everyone's an asshole and shits on people. S'how the world goes." "What were you sorry for?" Doug follows Shelby to the couch, folding his arms over his chest. He listens as she explains, and his mouth presses tight. "Okay," he says, glancing over at Hive with a small lift of his eyebrows. << Really? Girl drama is so...dramatic. >> "I need you to take a deep breath, and think about what you're upset over. You are mad and /crying/ because a hooker said nasty things to you." His brow furrows. "You ever walked down 7th? They'll call you worse than that, there. And you don't even have to know them." He inhales deeply, and drops into the couch onto Shelby's discarded clothes. "The whore's not entirely wrong, though. School or work wouldn't hurt you." His lips twitch into a small smile. "Might sting for a while, but you'll live. And make better money than living like someone out of a Dickens novel." Shelby makes a grab for the nearest mitten and throws it at Hive. "I /earn/ my money, thanks! It was a fucking joke." Mostly. If he'd come up with the cash... Why's it a crime if people want to give things, anyway? She sets her feet on the coffee table and slumps, throwing an arm (yes, dramatically) over her face. They just don't get it. Where's the pity to augment her self-pity? "I was saying sorry for giving him shit at the show last night, in front of everyone. Just like I said sorry to Mel for fucking up. /Twice/, I said it. But it wasn't good enough for him." Mister Fucking Look Down His Nose Perfect. You'd think he'd understand but he was probably lying about being a street kid too. Ugh. "I didn't even /start/ school, guys, you /really/ think I could catch up before I was old? Jesus. This isn't about that, anyway. Dude tried to get me /kicked out/." "The twins didn't start school till last year," Hive says with a shrug. "They lived in /cages/ till then. If they can do it you can do it, you seem bright enough. Did he really try to get you kicked out?" He sounds just as skeptical about this, too. His brow knits slightly, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile as he flashes a glance to Doug. "Man, you don't got any respect for the working kids, do you? Hookers got a tough job." << Don't think this is girl drama, I think it's entitled teenage brat drama. >> Hive's mental voice makes it clear why he generally sticks to the spoken one, a sharp /stab/ of mental energy none too comfortable. << Youuuu should take everything Shelby says with like, a barrel of salt. She's fun, but, dude. >> The dude comes with a wealth of emotion. Largely amusement, though. Doug flashes a grin back at Hive, and reaches over to pat Shelby on the knee. "If you're smart enough to figure out a way to cadge free room and board from various suckers around the city, you're smart enough to catch up," he says sagely. He winces, then, and grimaces as he rubs his temple. "I like hookers fine," he says. "They're people, too. But it's kind of shitty to talk that way to a street kid, even if you /did/ come from the streets yourself. I mean, there's tough love and then there's just being an asshole." He wrinkles his nose at Shelby, and tilts his head. "Didn't you sort of appropriate the Doc's couch?" he asks. "Can you even get kicked out of a place you were squatting in?" He's greatly amused by this, and he reaches out to tweak frizzy hair. Man, I hope Anwyn comes home soon. Shelby really needs that hot oil treatment. Hey! Shelby catches onto the tone Hive is using and points a finger at him, glaring. << Don't you start too, damn it. He /did/ try to...>> "He /did/ try to get me kicked out. Right after he was texting me about getting a real job, like I don't have a real one, the Doc pops up and is all "time for you to get out and go to school or get a real job, Shelby!"." And if that isn't proof, what is? Sure, maybe school could be all right, the twins are there and all, but /fuck/ being ambushed. And rules. And stupid uniforms. Pointing hand is used to then swat at tweaking hand. "Not you too," she groans. "The doc /said/ I could stay there. Look, dudes, if people don't /want/ me there, just tell me to get the hell out." Like Lucien did. "The twins don't have uniforms," Hive counters absently, dropping down to thud his palms on the back of the couch and lean his skinny frame against it. "Did the doctor say you had to leave or just that you should get a job or go to school? You know those are different things, right? I mean, s'not like Jax doesn't look after the kids cuz /they're/ in school. And mooching off people only lasts so long, it's not like a stable life path. I think it's pooossible," read: no doubt in his mind, "You're kind of overreacting a little to, uh, maybe having to --" Grow up. "Y'know. Whatever. You like music, right? That's a job if you do it seriously." "Maybe they just care enough to not want to see you wind up like that guy who tries to wash windshields two blocks up," Doug says, swatting back in a flurry of hand-sword fighting. "With a little school, you might be surprised to find out what you're capable of." He nods in Hive's direction. Right on, dude. Tell her! "You've got a really quick mind, Shelby, even if you're not really using it at the moment. Why not use it to bolster the stuff you're already good at?" He reaches out with an arm, laying it across the back of the couch behind the girl (and probably across Hive's knuckles). "Think of the music you could write with a good understanding of the English language, and the language of music. With your brain and what I suspect is probably more than a little deviousness, you could really make it big in the business. Legitimately. Without aid of YouTube." "What. The. Fuck." Shelby draws each word out until it's ripe and juicy with indignation. "Y'know, for a telepath, you're pretty clueless sometimes," she shoots at Hive. "So, like, clearly I'm shit with music and not serious about it, you were just there to laugh at me last night? Great. Great, I knew it was a fucking set up. Next time, just book Ryan." But this is more bruised feelings and insecurity than proper anger--she slumps back against bracing arm and couch, all dramatic groans and huffiness to cover for the fact. "Will you guys get off my fucking case if I said I told Doc I'd at least /look/ at the school? I'm going, okay? I'm gonna check it out. Hell, if I like it, I'll be out of your hair too. Jerks." "Like I said, overreacting, dude," Hive says, and he doesn't /actually/ roll his eyes but his tone certainly implies it. "I wouldn't have suggested music if I thought you were shit. Do you just /look/ for shit to be pissed off about? Cuz Iiii'm kinda thinking now this hooker dude was /trying/ to help you and you just got all fucking /teenage/ at him. I was there last night to support you. /You/ don't make that /easy/." "Geez, Shelby," Doug mutters as he extracts his arm, resting it on his stomach. "Pissy much? I don't think either of us said anything about wanting you out of our hair. " He nods at Hive, then, lifting his eyebrows. "I bet Lucien wasn't as assy about it you're making it sound." He nods at the girl, and grimaces. "You know, the longer you stay on that cross, the more someone's going to need the wood." "Whatever." Cue the stock teenage response. This one is tinged with defeated misery, though. Shelby no longer wants to argue and that's a positive step, right? Even if she's being dismissive about it. She makes one last weak effort: "If people got a problem with it, they should've said sooner. He screamed at me out of nowhere." Should just disappear, go camp out at that stupid school, that'd show them. Or would've (and here she cuts a mopey look up at Hive) if she had any privacy. "Whatever," she repeats with a sigh, "I'll knock it off if you guys want. Sorry. Shouldn'tve ruined good naked time." "I didn't come up here for naked time," Hive says with a smirk down towards Doug, "and I didn't come up here for your martyr act, either. I came up cuz you were leaking all over the damn place and as long as you were around I gotta talk to you." Doug rolls his eyes at Shelby's defeat, and pushes off the couch. "Cookies are needed." Cookies are definitely needed. Cookies make everything better. "People like you," he says as he pads to the kitchen and finds the plate of cookies in the fridge. "That's why they want the best for you." Notice he didn't say 'want what's best for you.' He comes back with the cookies, and holds out the plate. "Pfft. I was taking a shower," he says. "And while I do enjoy the shower from time to time, today was all about cleanliness. So shut up." He grins, and holds out the plate again. "Cookie?" "If I'd know there was gonna /be/ naked time, I maybe would've held off on the cross. Not that Doug naked does /me/ much good." It's a weak stab at humor but better than nothing. Shelby is still glum as she reaches for the cookies--she takes two--but it /does/ help. "I'm /allowed/ to leak, anyway, I'm a /girl/. We're fucking /built/ for it," she points out before getting crumbs down the front of her sweatshirt with that first bite. Shit. "...fanks, Dug. S'good. Talk 'bout wha'?" "Cookies, /sweet/." Hive is certainly of the opinion that cookies make everything better. He reaches out to snag one, too. "Thanks, man. Also, god, don't ever shower if Jim's in the -- y'know what nevermind." His head shakes abruptly. He takes a bite of cookie. "Ryan's got a show, end of next month at the Bowery. He wanted to feel out if you'd be interested in opening." Doug grins at Hive. "Jim's big on sharing water, is he?" There's a teasing note to his question, and he puts the plate of cookies down on the coffee table just as his phone quacks from...somewhere. The blonde goes to check the text, pulling the phone from his laptop back and glancing at the screen. Wait, what? Home? But why... Then he's cursing, and smacking his head against his palm. Fucking parents and their timing. "/Fuck/. I completely forgot." He turns, and looks helplessly at his guests. "Um. I gotta bail," he says apologetically. "I gotta get up to Westchester for dinner with the 'rental units." He wrinkles his nose, and moves towards the bedroom. "Time for my monthly board review." He disappears, only re-appearing a few seconds later, jeans clearly put on /over/ his shorts, and a sweater tugged down over his t-shirt. There's the glint of metal in his fingers, and he tosses it at Hive, revealing it to be a key. "Lock up when you guys leave. Don't eat the green stuff in the fridge." And then he's snagging up his laptop bag and he is /gone/. "Dude." Shelby presses a hand to her chest, wincing. "Don't talk about Jim and showers, okay?" Just. Don't. She can't help the mental images that spring up as a result but this time it /really/ isn't her fault. Another bite of cookie follows but it ends up just a heavy ball of crumbs in her mouth as she stares at Hive. She's still staring at him when Doug makes his flailing exit, only peripherally aware of the fact that she's been left unsupervised in his apartment. The Bowery? But. And but. But. She chokes the mouthful down, looks helplessly at the closing door and then back to the remaining occupant. "But...what, /me/? But last night was /him/? After the shit I pulled?" "Yeah, the Bowery. Yeah, you. And last night," Hive says, "we did what we could to stop Melinda from losing her job, and you were kiiinda a shit for pulling that on her, in /case/ you're wondering why someone might say you shit on people. /That's/ why," he delivers all in blandly nonchalant tone, as he polishes off the cookie and waves to Doug. "But. Your music's solid. And he's willing to stick his neck out too though I swear upon everything unholy if you pull some stunt to fuck his life over too it will not go well for you." He's ambling around the couch to snag another cookie and drop down onto it. "Conditionally, though. He says you gotta go work with him, 'tween now and then. Polish your sound a bit. Write some of your own stuff. He's got the apartment across from Jax. S'a good space for practicing." "I fucking /know/ I was a shit to Mel, you guys can stop rubbing it in any time now," Shelby bursts out, if only because it's easier to respond to that one thing than to everything else he's said. That is all still processing. It might be a few minutes. Time that is well spent in finishing one cookie and replacing the other on the plate while she dusts herself off, frowning all the while. "...nah. That doesn't make sense. I mean, Ryan's cool but he's big. I'm just some asshole busker who put him in a tight spot. Music isn't even my main /thing/, s'just for winter time when I can't break out the chalks." "Suit yourself," Hive says with a shrug. "Just thought I'd drop by and tell you." As an afterthought, he picks up a second cookie, starting for the door. "See ya." Panic! Confusion! "Wait! I didn't say no!" Shelby's on her feet a second later and tagging after, slowing just in the nick of time to keep from ramming into him. Instead she does an awkward hop-shuffle of omgdon'tgo. "Just...why?" "Maybe," Hive says with a thin smile, "he thinks you should get a job." Shelby's nostrils flare as she breathes out sharply. Ouch, that one stung. "Keep that up, I'm gonna think you like seeing me leaking or throwing shit," she shoots at him before subsiding to chew on her lip. "...fine. Fine. Sounds good. I gotta get my guitar back from him anyway." "Cool. 304. His roommates are a little freaky but if you can put up with mine they'll be fine. Might wanna get on that sooner than later, I dunno how much work songwriting takes but next month's coming up." Hive tugs the door open, cramming a cookie into his mouth whole. Chompchompchomp. Mouth still half full of cookie, he adds, "Just ignore him if he hits on you or anything he does that to /everyone/. Fucking musicians." "I can go down now. Not like I got anything else to do," she says with a glance around the emptied apartment. 304, across from Jax's. That's convenient if she does decide to try this school bullshit. Or maybe she'll become a superstar and can give school the double bird. That brings a faint smile, one that's bolstered by talk of being hit on. "So what, you're saying I shouldn't take it personally? Look, dude, just 'cause /you/ turned this down doesn't mean no one else is gonna want it." Shelby pauses to go grab up her stuff, scooping it into both arms before making for the door. Hive, after all, has the key. "Yeah but he gets /around/, you know. I'm just saying, I know everyone thinks he's smoking /hot/ and all but if you're gonna tap that you'll probably want /pretty/ good condoms." Hive waits for Shelby to head out, then locks the door behind them. He frowns at the key for a moment, then shrugs and pockets it. "He is smoking hot," Shelby says simply, "but you are too. Don't be jealous you lost your chance." But shit, condoms, birth control... Fuck. The Doc's probably a no-go, maybe Toure from the other clinic. She ambles down the hall towards the stairwell, shrugging into her coat and zipping it up, in spite of only needing to go down a couple of floors. Something to check into, once this stupid blizzard lets up. "Nailed it. I'm dying of jealousy here. Planned Parenthood gives free condoms," Hive suggests, heading towards the stairs too. "Also that hippie clinic in Clinton. I'm just ribbing, anyway. He's a solid guy. Even if a total hobag. Blizzards are great, though. It means lots of blankets and hot chocolate." Shelby pulls the door open and actually holds it there for Hive to pass through. Take that, everyone's perception of her! Her smile sits crooked on her lips. "For you, maybe. Nice to know Jim's gonna have a good night anyway," she quips before rattling down the stairs. The sentiment comes complete with a postcard image of the two snuggled beneath a quilt. Aww, romance. "Anyway, I'm not gonna fuck him. Not when I know you can hear it. Unless that's your thing, perv." "Oh god." This is all Hive /groans/ in farewell. Thankfully he's getting off a floor early. Serves you right. Ha. Shelby continues on, with a parting shot: << Oh Jiiiim your hairy chest is so maaaanly. >>