∞ [ audio]

[fatespoken]

[ There's a sharp breath, unsteady as it's drawn in— ]

Anyone... know how to get rid of the smell of smoke?

From drapes.

Comments

[never_very_good]

You know I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, right?

[With a flat little frown he crosses back to where Amory sits, looking down, blocking the light no doubt.]

Curses. It's all in your head. Get up.

[fatespoken]

What day is it today, Frankie?

[ It's that sudden eclipse that has him finally peeking up, the red streak a bold accent on his forehead. ]

Not a curse. I killed him.

[never_very_good]

Pushed your father out a window?

[He arches an eyebrow, shrugs slightly. And puts his hand out to take the bottle, or help Amory up-- both solid goals at this point.]

Curse. Calm the fuck down and get up.

[fatespoken]

And set him on fire.

[ That only sends the bottle farther away from Frankie, tucked against his chest with a glower at Frankie to match. ]

Not a curse. He's still burning. I can smell him all the way from down there.

[never_very_good]

Good to know you don't do anything halfway.

[The setting-on-fire bit is admittedly pretty weird, but under the circumstances he's not going to pry. If only because he doubts he's going to get anything coherent. Frankie drops to a crouch, balanced pretty solidly without having to put a hand down on the glass-strewn floor. He is very calm.]

If you don't get up, I will kick you until you do. C'mon.

[fatespoken]

Wasn't that difficult.

[ Considering how the sun did the trick for him. Funny how it is when you watch someone burn in real life-- it's hard to see it as real until they're charred bits on the ground. Never had he seen one of them light on fire before.

He spares another glance up at Frankie, scowling. ]

What do you think it feels like to be burned alive?

[never_very_good]

[He could answer that on several levels of personal experience; the first that comes to mind isn't his own sunburn, but that sick and surreal moment watching subsiders burn. Some of them barely past the point of no return, still dressed, still nearly human. Or something approximating human. He has no way to word it, no ability to express even what he felt as Bromley's daughter shrieked at him.

He stands again with a sound somewhere between a huff and a growl, bends, and grabs Amory by the arm with an insistent tug. The younger man is either getting up, or he's risking getting tossed face-first into all that glass.]

[fatespoken]

[ He acquiesces easily to Frankie's tug, as he has greater strength and Amory's unbalance on his side. Actually, the tug does more than it intended, and sends Amory smacking into the others' chest with a gruff exclamation. He hurriedly attempts to untangle his feet in an effort to manage some modicum of pride.

It wasn't as if he intended to strike Frankie's sore spot. Being a once-vampire doesn't mean one has to have experience with fire. Sure, it makes it more likely, but Frankie is still here and in one piece, isn't he? ]

[never_very_good]

Which way's the bathroom?

[It's not quite a question, more of an order. Getting cleaned up is the next step here, whether Amory likes it or not. He'll be gracious enough not to mention the other man falling on him, at least for the moment.]

[fatespoken]

Down the hall, to the right.

[ He's quick to pull himself off the other and straighten his posture out, as much as his inebriated self will allow him. ]

Go away, Frankie. Who's looking after Eden while you're here?

[never_very_good]

[It seems like a convenient time for Frankie to try and swipe his bottle.]

Eden's fine. You're supposed to be at work.

[fatespoken]

If you pushed someone out the window, would you think of work?

[ And this is Amory lunging at Frankie, aiming for that bottle, metaphorical claws extended. ]

Give me my bottle, get the fuck out, and go screw yourself, Dalton.

[never_very_good]

[Frankie works in nice enough places that he doesn't have to deal with too many belligerent drunks. But he knows how. He puts his other arm up and holds the bottle back, out of reach, perversely calmer the angrier Amory gets.]

Already got someone to cover for you. You're welcome, by the way. So go clean yourself up.