realityshifted | (no subject)

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baccano! (d1) firo porchainezo

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[Firo is in the back of the theater brooding in a Manly Fashion. He has a bottle of absinthe in one hand and he's drinking straight from it, gagging and spitting at the taste. In his lap there's a little canvas sack; on his neck, a blood stain he missed while cleaning himself up.

He happens to be in a less than sociable mood.]

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It... [And he has the first creeping bit of shame, because however used to that sort of thing he is, he knows it would only hurt Angela to know that he killed the men who mugged her.] Yeah, it was.

Are you all right?

[Forced smile.] You know me. I'm aces.

[ She flicks at the bottle of absinthe ] You're usually not aces when you're drinking that much.

This? It's nothing. Doesn't do anything. [COUNTING ON HER LACK OF KNOWLEDGE REGARDING HIS WORLD ON THIS ONE.]

Then why are you nursing it all alone in the theater? [ She pulls her legs up onto her seat and wraps her arms around them. ] You said it yourself, I know you. You come here to brood.

[Looking away again and capping the bottle.]

It's not your fault.

It is. I shouldn't have left you on your own like that.

You told me to stay, and I should have. It's my fault for taking off like I did. I got what I deserved for being an idiot.

No! [And suddenly he is looking at her, his expression furious.] No, you didn't deserve that.

I still should have known better. Then you had your men out looking for me... I scared you and made you worry. [ She reaches over him and takes the bottle, looking at it. ] I'm still making you worry.

No-- [He's guilting even more now.] None of this is your fault.

Shut up. It is so.

[ She uncorks the bottle and sniffs it, then makes a face. ]

[Momentarily distracted by her interest in the absinthe.] Don't--I wasn't drinking it right.

How can you not drink it right? [ Swig! Angela gags about half-way through. ] Ugh! It's like acid!

[...shit. He takes the bottle back, groaning.] There's a special way you set it up. Angie, this stuff...

[ She's staring at him now. ] ... Why are you purple?

[Another groan.] I'm not, Angie. You're drunk. Sort of.

What? Off one... [ She goes to put her legs down and instead startles, clambering over the chair and into his lap, clinging to him. ] Where did the floor go?

[Fnarfle.] It's... the floor hasn't gone anywhere. It's absinthe. It does that.

It makes the floor disappear? [ Wiggle wiggle cling. Have a faceful of Angela chest, Firo. She points up. ] The floating cat is back!

No it--it works fast, and it makes you see things. [....]

Back?

It was hanging around me yesterday, talking about magic bugs... [ Only on the Plane could shit you'd hallucinate really happen the day before. She looks at him. ] Now you're green.

...what were you doing yesterday?