ArchivedLogs:Might Be Dying

Might Be Dying
Dramatis Personae Sebastian, Shane, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-07-05 '
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. The concrete wall that rings the roof has been decorated, painted in vivid bright shades by some artistic hand to add colourful cheer to the rooftop. The mural shifts in terrain One wall sports a beach, flecked with grass and seashells and driftwood and shore birds. Beach transitions into meadow, colourful with wildflowers and butterflies and dragonflies; meadow shifts into snow-capped mountains, subsides into piedmont and sprouts into a verdant forest on the fourth, alive with animals. Yesterday, there was merriment! Festivity. Lots of booze. Lots of meat grilling on a -- grill. Tiny american flags! Fireworks! ... this means that today there is mostly /mess/. The food and dishes have been cleared away, at least there are no leftovers baking in the sun -- vegan leftovers split between Ryan and Jax's apartments, the MEAT divvied up between the others. No doubt the twins gorged on cold hot dogs for breakfast. But even with the eating-things gone the roof has still seen /tidier/ days. There are sparkler sticks discarded on the concrete, tinyamericanflags in various states of disrepair scattered around, beer bottles in various states of emptiness still lingering (in one place, a /pyramid/ of bottles has been built very /neatly/ on the edge of the roof-wall, just /waiting/ to be toppled and become so much shattered glass eight stories below.) To this end, Sebastian has /trash bags/ in hand as he makes his way out into the sun. Dressed in a green wrap skirt, no shirt, bare feet, he squints and holds a hand up over his eyes when he emerges into the sunlight. "-- You should get the recycle-stuff," he tells his brother, foisting a bag off on him. "-- why is there underwear in the garden?" "Some people like getting dirty," Shane answers this with a shrug of shoulder. Shelby brings up the rear. "Did someone fuck in the veggies? That's just wrong, we gotta eat that shit," is her grumpy comment. /She/ is suffering from physical mess, thanks to having mixed both liquor and more hardcore goodies last night. This means she's wearing heavy sunglasses, and still wearing what she'd been wearing last night--a bikini top and a pair of denim cut offs, with flip-flops on her feet to guard against stray broken glass. This time, at least, she's thought to slather on the sunblock, to try to stave off a worsening of the burn across back and shoulders. Her hand extends for another of the bags. "Y'know, if we told your boss we're having a party, next time, you could maybe get him to spring for cleaners after." "I don't -- think that's exactly how work -- works," Sebastian muses, sounding not really very confident either way! He is more careful about separating another bag, tapping it off the roll and pinching it with the pads of his fingers as he tears, /mostly/ succeeding in not slicing claws into plastic. He offers the bag to Shelby. "Maybe not fucking. Maybe they just wanted to be naked it is hot as /balls/," Shane complains. "-- how would you know, you don't -- have any," Sebastian's brows crease. "Um, I've still /felt/ more than a few. Actually I think," Shane looks to Shelby for confirmation on this! "that it might actually be hotter than balls. Jeez you are going to peel like a goddamn lizard." "C'mon, he's a huge party dude. Everyone knows that. Tell you what, you invite him next time, and I'll ask. He'll totally say yes," Shelby decides. The garbage bag is accepted--inspected for holes just in case--shaken open. With a wince, natch. Plastic is loud. And... "Yeah, balls get pretty sweaty. It's kinda gross. But they don't put out any more heat than anything else. S'definitely hotter." Shane is given a look but it's hard to tell what /kind/ of look it is because glasses. A hint is offered when she wrinkles her nose at him, though. Then she sets off in the direction of that bottle pyramid. Of course. "Should've seen me back in Arizona. I never /un/burned long enough to peel." "Living in Arizona should give you some kind of. Immunity. Can't they just, like, /inject/ people with sun-powers?" Shane wonders. "-- Would you want the entire state of Arizona having superpowers?" Sebastian asks him in return, shaking out a bag of his own. Shane just /shudders/ in answer to this. "Good point." "I can ask him to our next party," Sebastian is back to uncertain again, "but I don't know if he -- um. When /is/ our next party?" "Whenever we want? Dusk and Flicker still both have birthdays this summer." Shane is gathering bottles, clink! clink! clinkclink! into his bag. "Seriously," Shelby grumbles as she eyes the pyramid, "there's a reason I ran away from the whole fucking state. Jesus, this is going to fall." But it turns out she's as crappy with prophecy as she is with suffering serenely through a hangover. Going up on her toes and plucking the very top bottle from the stack...does not end in blood and tears. The other bottles don't even sway, leaving her to brag, "Ha. Check it out, magic fingers." The bottle is flourished then thrown into the bag. Where it breaks, because she can't be bothered to /lift/ said bag. Up she goes to snare another. "We could have another this weekend if we wanted. That's kind've the whole point of having your own place. You think he likes redheads?" "Dusk?" Sebastian looks confused. "/Stark/, moron," Shane continues to put away bottles. Clink! Clinkshatter. Clink! Clink! "Um -- from what I hear he likes -- basically -- anyone," Sebastian answers with a blush. "With a /cunt/," Shane clarifies with a snort. "... Peter totally asked me if I was dating him," this time Sebastian looks amused, rubbing his hand against his face. /He/ goes to fish the underwear out of the garden, looking at it -- in some confusion. Green. Lacy. He sets it onto the edge of the garden box and starts picking out discarded flags from the soil. "If you do knock those over, make sure you only knock them onto someone who's an /asshole/," Shane advises as Shelby starts dismantling the tower. "Like if that obnoxious lady with the dog in 312 comes by." "Stark," Shelby confirms, "I already know Dusk wants alla this." She'd curvy-wave her hands if they weren't full of bottles, in spite of lacking said curves. So she just gestures at herself instead--this person right here. In case they missed the point. Then crash crash, those bottles go into the bag too. Afterwards, she leans over the railing to check out the state of the street below. No obnoxious lady. "I'll keep an eye out. /Do/ you wanna date him?" This is asked of Sebastian, coupled with a curious look. "Who /doesn't/?" Shane smirks over towards Shelby. "/You/ don't," Sebastian points out, his lips twitching. "/Totally/ would tap that," Shane protests, as though Shelby were not right there, "but not," he clarifies, "when you're all lizardy." "/Anole's/ all lizardy and you'd --" Sebastian blushes in lieu of finishing this sentence. "He wasn't here last night," Shane comments absently. "Anole?" Bastian is confused again. "/Dusk/ jesus you are like ten pages behind all the time." Shane clicks his tongue /disapprovingly/. "Oh --" Sebastian's brows furrow. He picks up one tiny paper flag, singed at the edges, with a BATMAN symbol drawn on it in sharpie. "I -- he's old," he tells Shelby, uncertainly. "Would /you/ want to -- I mean you're trying to get him to come to a party." There is a low snort heard while the twins banter. It /probably/ came from Shelby, though she's bent over--carefully aaaa her stomach doesn't like that--to retrieve the edge of the bag. "He just wants me for my tits," she points out to Bastian, allowing Shane the same courtesy. "/Anyway/ I bet Dusk was out with a groupie or something. Dude's gotta eat and you can't grill up blood, it'd smell nasty, I bet." Having thrown away a few bottles, she decides she's done and finds a chair to flop into. Her hand goes over her eyes to help the glasses block the sun. "Sure, why not? Dude's loaded." "Well, yeah. I mean you come with your very own /funbags/," Shane accends this with a honking motion of his hand. Towards Shelby. "Man you picked up like. Six whole bottles good job!" Sebastian is more solicitous: "-- do you want some, uh. Ibuprofen? Or -- water." "Grilled blood smells fucking delicious it leaks /all/ the hell out of steaks when you grill them and oh man I just want to come all over the --" "/Gross/," Sebastian cuts in, "/Tell/ me you did not jerk off in the grills." Shane /grins/. BRIGHT. He goes to claim Shelby's discarded bag and tip (unfortunately loudly!) the contents of his bag INTO it since it's all glass right now. "Shelby's totally right. /I'd/ bone him come /on/ you are telling me if Tony Fucking Stark dropped trou in front of you you would not be on your knees in a goddamn second." Sebastian's eyes /widen/. Gills flaring. He makes a strangled squeak that sounds /kind of/ like 'Shane!' "Fuck off, I'm dying here," the girl grouses--making a valiant effort to /not/ crack a smile at Shane's ridiculousness. Which is, apparently, a word! It becomes /easier/ to keep the grumpyface in place when he makes with the noise instead of the funnies though. Her groan this time is dramatic but unfeigned, complete with a clutching of her head. "I had like...whatever was in the bottle in the bathroom. I think maybe I'm just /really/ dying." But not so dead that she can't comment, when the head-pounding lessens slightly, "I'd take at least a few seconds to ask what was in it for /me/." "Tony Stark's cock is in it for you. Or -- in you?" Shane squints up an eye, considering. He lifts up the bag, moving a bit away to continue with bottle-collection. "-- wait how much was in the bottle in the bathroom?" "... I don't think you'd /die/ even if you took a whole, um, thing, but it'll -- make your stomach /really/ miserable --" Sebastian bites down on his lip, briefly concerned. "Maybe some um. Pepto -- stuff?" "This is so not the time for dying, anyway. Banned. Forbidden for at least the whole rest of the summer." Shane says this DECISIVELY! "Cuz I /don't/ think Stark is into dead chicks." "Dude, I've had /plenty/ of cocks, not so much money. You know how much we're paying on /electricity/? And /water/? He can stick his cock wherever he wants if he handles the bills for a year." Did Shelby just sidestep the medicine bottle question? Maybe. But she does spread her fingers, presumably peeking through them to eyeball the twins. Should...should she be concerned too? "Yeah I asked Pa for an air conditioner but he said it'd like double our electric bill." Shane scowls at this thought. "-- No really how much did you -- I think you should maybe be lying down," Sebastian decides. "And have a lot of water." "Should be having a lot of water /regardless/ of if you're trying to kill your liver with painkillers. Shelby," Shane tells her this very seriously, "you need that liver. Think of all the booze you'd miss if you got rid of it." "I dunno, a handful? Just like one shake. How much is too much?" Moderation ain't exactly street slang. Shelby presses a hand to her forehead to check her temperature, finds it sweaty. "If I put anything in my stomach though, I'm gonna puke. Like. Seriously. Ungh." With this, and a monumental effort, she pushes herself up out of the chair to pick her way towards the exit door. "No party tonight, I guess." "You'd really want a party tonight anyway?" Shane looks at Shelby with a deep frown. Kind of skeptical. Kind of /concerned/. Sebastian puts his bag down -- "{You can stay here. Finish.}" and switches back from Vietnamese to English as he makes his way to open the door for Shelby. Offer an arm for her, too. "Youuuu look kind of really shitty. I don't think you're supposed to take more than two at a time, um. Maybe lying down? And. Just little tiny /sips/ of water." "Or," Shane's adding this in stage-whisper, "of Tony Stark's jizz. I hear it cures all ills and Bastian practically has that shit on /tap/ by now." "-- Oh my god." Sebastian just /winces/ again. "Well, fuck, if I'm gonna /die/, I'd want it to be at a party." Shelby says this with Very Worried Eyebrows--they're doing their best to go all bendy, and join in the middle. If /Sebastian/ is concerned... "Oh man, like, if I was dying and TonyStark were here holding me..." So she isn't /that/ critical, if she can daydream photo ops to increase her public presence. But she does take the arm that's on offer because hey, she does still feel pretty crappy! "Is he fucking with you or /do/ you wanna?" she asks Sebastian. Purely to distract herself. Of course. Really. "Would you get all swoony?" Shane wants to know. "Drop dramatically into his arms so that he lavishes you with gifts once you make a dramatic recovery?" He mimes swooning, the back of one hand to his forehead, his body falling dramatically! across one of the chairs. "I don't -- no, I don't want -- I'm not even really into --" Sebastian blushes. "Guys, maybe not, but you're hot for /science/. Nerd," Shane says. Still flopped over the chair! "-- but no you have ruined him for the cock, Shelby, he is all about --" He makes a little chk-chk gun -- hand, really, since webbed fingers make it hard to point just /one/ -- towards Shelby's crotch. "I hear," he adds to Shelby and his brother, "that orgasms are good for hangovers." "I might barf on his shoes. That's sexy, right?" Shelby curls her hand around Bastian's wrist, gives it a clammy squeeze. "Someone somewhere thinks that's the hottest. I don't think I could ruin /anyone/ for cock right /now/." And with that in mind, she comes to a sudden stop--claps a hand over her mouth--then takes off for the stairs. Time to go be sexy...hopefully in something bowl-shaped, and not the stairwell. "Have you /seen/ the internet lately? Totally could film it, make some cash," Shane advises. "Pay for some fucking AC." "-- Oh my /god/," Sebastian looks mildly nauseated, and shakes his head at his brother. And then dashes off after Shelby -- perhaps to try and coax some tiny sips of water into her or perhaps just to clean UP if she pukes in the stairs.