Logs:Boommates

Boommates
CN: mentions of BPD and drug use
Dramatis Personae Tabitha, Kitty	2020-10-07 "I figured you deserve something a little nicer."
Location Inwood, Manhattan, NYC
<NYC> Kitty's Apartment - Inwood This two bedroom flat in Inwood has seen better days, but the current occupants have worked gamely to make the space cozy. The window in the living area looks out onto an alley, but the sill is spruced up with rock lamps and succulents. There is a dusty television pressed up against one blue-painted wall, opposite a faux-leather couch covered in throw blankets. The walls are covered in posters - bands, mostly, leading toward Anya's room, and astronomy event toward Kitty's. The kitchen is clean and barebones - some dishes are always in the drying rack, and a fruit basket is generally full of apples and bananas. It's not so early, nearly 8am or so, when Kitty creeps into the kitchen to make coffee. She's going as slowly and quietly as she can as to not disturb her guest on the pullout couch, but it's a multistep process - the two cup French press has to be filled, the hot water has to get started in the kettle, and all of those steps make noise. Kitty cuts herself a slice of banana bread too, munching on the corner quietly. Once the hot water is going, Kitty fills a glass of orange juice and steps through the counter into the living space, placing it gently on the side table next to the couch along with another slice of bread. Tabitha, to most, could be pronounced legally dead. She hasn't moved from her sprawled out position on the bed for over 24 hours, and her breath was silent and shallow. Only the occassional snore or incoherent mumble showed signs of life. But this morning, her body had decided that it was tired of being dead. One eyelid opens and blue hues survey their surroundings. As she awoke from her deathly slumber, she tried to recollect how exactly she ended up here, but to no avail. She lets out a low groan and closes both eyes tightly before opening them. "Fuck..." A mutter, followed with another groan. "... I feel like shit." "Good morning," Kitty says mildly, pouring the hot water into the french press with practiced ease. She's wearing red flannel pajama pants and a grey tank top, hair tossed into a messy bun on top her head. "Orange juice. Table next to you. Vitamin C is good for hangovers." A lone chopstick goes into the press, swirls the water and grounds together for a minute before Kitty lets the mixture rest. She glances over at Tabitha. "Want an Advil?" It takes her a solid few seconds before she recognizes Kitty, but when she does -- her face twists into confusion. "Kitty?" She takes the orange juice, taking a large swig. Again, she attempts to recollect, groaning at the headache that brings. "... yeah, Advil sounds good." She holds her head. "Did we sleep together? Please tell me we didn't sleep together. That would... seriously suck." Kitty leaves the coffee for a moment, disappears into the bathroom and returns with a large jar of Advil gels. She shakes out a couple and holds them out to Tabitha. "We did not. You have been passed out on my couch for about..." She glances at the oven clock. "Maybe 30 hours?" She points vaguely at the banana bread. "I can whip up a real breakfast if you want, but see if you can handle that first." Tabitha lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank GOD. You're an awesome friend." She smiles weakly and takes the Advil, swallowing them. "I'm starvin', anything would really help." More so than usual, her Virginia accent is coming out. "My memory's fucked. Don't remember shit." Another swig. "How fucked up was I? Must'a been bad." Her last remark is quieter. Kitty is smiling now as she puts the medicine away, busies herself with combing through the fridge. A tupperware of frozen red sauce comes out of the freezer, and she sets it under running water in the sink. "It wasn't great," Kitty admits. "You were having a bad time." She glances back at Tabby. "Bouncer or something called me to get you." "I'm sorry, man... Whatever I said to you durin' all that -- do me a favor -- just, forget it." Tabitha slides to the edge of the mattress, holding her head in both hands. "Fuck... 'm gonna take a shower. I smell like SHIT." She slowly rises, akin to a zombie. And, in a sluggish shuffle, pokes around Kitty's apartment in an effort to find the bathroom. Kitty pauses, egg carton in hand, fridge door open, at the phrase forget it. A beat, and she sets it down on the counter. "Sure," she says with uncertainty, holding the fridge door open just a little bit longer before shutting it. Turning around, she goes for a tight smile. "Right over there," Kitty points at door to Tabitha's left. "Left a towel and a change of clothes for you in there yesterday - wasn't sure when you'd wake up." When Tabitha's done in the shower, the apartment smells of tomatoes and spices. On the dining table, two plates of shakshuka and toast, complete with gently poached eggs, wait for the two women, alongside mugs of coffee, now just warm. "Thanks, Kit-Kat." Tabitha smiles and ruffles her hair before going in the bathroom, locking it behind her. Her shower is long, luxurious, and accompanied by singing Teenage Dirtbag as loud as possible. She ends her shower and comes out, stretching her back. The tee-shirt hangs off her lanky body loosely, one sleeve off her shoulder. "Dude," she walks towards the table, eyes wide. "You didn't have to do... all this, y'know. Scrambled eggs would'a been okay." The blonde sits, leaning back as she puts a foot on the seat. "So." Her tone is serious. This is accented by her intense stare. "What do you know." It's less of a question and more of a demand. Kitty shrugs. "I made a whole batch of the sauce ages ago, this was pretty easy." Still, she's beaming for a moment, proud of her effort as the first spoonful of shakshuka goes into her mouth. "Besides, last thing you ate came back up. I figured you deserve something a little nicer." When Tabitha confronts her, though, the spoon goes back into the bowl, a frown appearing on her face. "You mentioned molly, when I got to you. Tried to blow up one of my favorite diners. Something about a BPD diagnosis." Her face softens. "Something about being abandoned." The first two points, she doesn't seem phased. But at the word BPD, her face contorts in anger. She grabs a piece of toast, taking a large bite to subside her anger. "Okay. Not AS bad as I thought, but -- yeah." Her other hand is on the table, nails tapping away on the table. "I was drunk an' high an' spewing shit outta my mouth that don't mean nothin'." Tap, tap, tap. "So just, forget about it. Shit don't matter." Another large bite. Kitty's eyes go a little wider at Tabitha's reaction, then narrow a bit. "I mean, the specifics, don't matter, maybe," she offers, cautiously, watching Tabitha's reaction. "But I think - you mentioned wanting back in the X-Men. I don't know if you meant that, but if you did - if you do," she picks up her own toast, dipping it into an egg yolk, "I think, maybe, we should talk a little about your situation. And just. Safety in general?" Kitty takes a bite. "I dunno." "Safety?" Tabitha's eyebrow quirks up. "You think I'm not safe?" She finishes her toast, moving onto the shakshuka. "I'm fine, really. Had worse situations." She groans at the taste. "Damn, this stuff is good." She sits up properly to eat and think. "Y'know... I think the X-Men might actually be kinda cool. But they all hate me, so," a shrug. "If you're really concerned, I'm crashing at my ex's house. Not -- not Sylvia, another one." Tabitha grins, taking another spoonful. "I have 'til Sunday, she comes back from her super-duper expensive fancy business trip. I'll find somethin', always do." Kitty's lips press together into a thin line. "I'm not convinced - last time I saw you before last night, you were attacking a bodega." Her tone is light, not accusatory. "We don't all hate you. Just..." she trails off. "There are concerns, but its not insurmountable or anything." Toast back into the yolk and tomato, back into her mouth. "Does your ex know you're crashing there?" "God, I sure HOPE not." Tabitha laughs it off, leaning back now. "I KNOW she hates my guts, told me herself. She's insane." She shakes her head. "And, to put the record straight -- I did NOT 'attack' a bodega. It was by ACCIDENT!" She huffs, pointing her spoon at Kitty. "My power's been haywire since I came back to New York. Almost blew Flicker 'n Matt. Matt was being a bitch... maybe I should blow him up..." Kitty nods, slowly, chewing the toast thoughtfully before volunteering - "If you want a place to stay for a while, with permission," she hesitates, "it could be here. Anya -" a glance towards the closed door - "Well, she's international, I'm not sure when she'll be able to get back into the country. I can ask her if she'd mind you in her room." Kitty's tone is a little skeptical of the possibility. "Couch works too." She pauses, looks at Tabitha with a serious expression. "It would be a little conditional - I'd need to be able to trust you to not blow anything - or anyone, Matt included, up." Toast back into the shakshuka. "Maybe a couple other things. Doing dishes and shit. Roommate stuff." Tabitha mulls over what she says thoughtfully, spinning her spoon on the table. It’s a solid minute before she breaks her stoic expecting with a smirk. “Alright.” She spits on her hand and holds it out to Kitty. “Roommates.” Kitty laughs, attempting to spit on her own hand but mostly just getting a little bit of spittle on her palm. Her hand meets Tabitha’s, gives it a couple of good ridiculous pumps. “Glad to have you back.”