realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) gene hunt

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This place is complete bullshit. Every time I try using this crap 'technology' it up and breaks like the useless junk it is. And if one more bloke tries copping a feel of my arse, I'm locking the whole bloody city up. You hear me, brat? You're whole bloody city, nicked. Don't think I won't.

And Tyler. You and I need to talk.

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Don't talk about it like you know how it feels, Tyler. Being a faerie's as much a choice as being a copper. One's just better than the other. Love's overrated anyway. Just leaves you arguin' more than anythin' else. [didn't notice and so doesn't much care, though he does take his drink in hand sooner, downing half of it quick as you please. not like he can feel it anymore] And was wrong with that? 's better than anything you've got.

Being a copper isn't a choice for me. There's nothing else I could do. [yay alcohol] I have more'n that. I have morals. And philosophy. And beliefs. And... things. I have a structured way of thinking.

[don't ruin his analogy, Tyler] 's still a choice. Same as it was for me. Was just an easier choice than others. [makes a pfft noise, giving Sam a bleary-eyed look] Sure you do. And what's that structured way of thinking done for you, Tyler? Other than make you look nutters and piss people off. What's it done but make you second-guess me every time? What's it done other than make you a pain in my arse?

's not a choice. Or could you be sommat other than the copper you are? I know you, Guv. You'd die trying to pretend at anything else. You're a copper. It's more'n your decision; it's what you have to be. [mm, alcohol] I've saved lives. I've helped people. I'm a better person for it. And I'm not going to get killed insisting that something or someone isn't real.

That's not the bloody point. Okay, so maybe I was born to it, same as you. Maybe it's in my blood. You're right, happy? I've gotta be what I am. But if faeries are born liking blokes, then it's more of a disease than a choice, fine. 's still not nothin' I want done with. Can't hold your head up high, being a poofter. Can't be a real man. Can't live, not like that. [yes, it is quite tasty. well...was, back when Gene could still taste it. the act of drinking is the only thing keeping him from keeling off his stool, at this point] Point? So've I, more'n you wanna give me credit for. And I did it by gut, not with any of that...structured thinkin' bullocks.

Not a disease. 's just... part of who you are. But who you shag doesn't decide if you're a man or not. You can be proud of who you are even if you're not just like everyone else. [a pause] Sometimes, it's the only way you can be proud of who you are. Sometimes everyone else is all wrong, and you have to fight, to be who you are, to do what you believe in. You have to stand up, and if you give in, you're... you're dead.

..Shit

[that uncomfortable revalation about life in 2006 deserves more alcohol]

What, you go around shagging blokes, then? Cause you sure as hell aren't shagging Cartwright. Only bird who'd shag you was a binty whore who had to drug you, first, then got offed for her troubles. And that is what standing you for what you believe in gets you, Tyler. That's it. You want to live, want to make something of yourself? You play the bloody system and beat it from the inside out.

No. No no no, you're wrong. That's... [slams the rest of his drink down and stands] The hell 'm I thinking? [runs his hands over his face] Need to go... sit. And think. Somewhere. Alone. Cheers, Guv.

No. You're staying right here and telling me why I'm wrong. [reaches out and grabs at Sam's arm, missing by a centimetre or so and tumbling off his stool, groaning] Get back here you div...we're not done drinking...

[....] Guv... [turns around and stands over him - and then reaches out to put a hand on the counter, because falling down right now would be bad] You're done drinking.

[looks up at him blearily] ...maybe. Can I see straight?

No. [trying decide if he should hit Gene on the head so he goes unconscious then drag him somewhere safe to kip it off, or if he should try to get him back to Fumie's reality]

...right. Thought I could. [struggles to sit up, huffing and grunting and overall not having an easy time of it. eventually makes it up so he can lean on the bar, though] Can you see straight?

More'n you can.

Pfft. If you can tell, you're not drunk enough. 'nother round! [tries to pour some more and slips off the bar, crashing to the floor again] Bloody hell...!

Hm. [really tempted to punch him out now]

[wooouldn't take much, really, 'specially since he's started fishing for his keys. and yes, he'd end up breaking into a vehicle at this point] Fine. Fine. I'll drive us home.

No car. [tilts his head, looking at Gene with intense curiousity]

...shit. [oh, whisky-soaked brain, you're so slow] That little twit has it, don't she? Shit. Gotta...gotta get it back...the hell you lookin' at, Tyler? C'mon.

[simply] I'm trying to figure out if it's worth it to see you do more stupid, drunken things, or if I should just knock you out.

[ ... ] 'm not doin' stupid things and you take a swing at me and I'll bosh your lights out.

[still in that simple, non-aggressive, 'just stating the facts' tone] No, you won't. You can't. You're too pissed to hit me.

[in his surly, grumpy, heavily slurred 'way too drunk for this shit' tone] Wanna bet? [it's a swing! and a miss! hello ground~] Damnit!

[nods to himself] I should probably knock you out you before you hurt yourself.

You can bloody well try! [is struggling back to his feet for a second attempt at a right-hander to Sam's face]