IC CONTACT.

[nastygram]

"YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICE MAIL BOX OF XXX-XXX-XXXX. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE.

voice. text. in person.
texts and messages will go to one of three phones
1 burner phone - 1 burner phone - 1 standard issue phone registered to DoloresH4ze
NONAH, NC. #003

Comments

but should i be, though

[magnitudes]

I have so much shitty beer. And some good beer. And I got milkshake supplies. Might be better for having with Indian.

( She stands, a lunge that's oddly well coordinated for how alcohol soaked she is, turning and grinning at Darlene as she gently rights the glass, and sets it on the coffee table. (But not on Shakespeare, though, Shakespeare is sacred.) )

And I like food. I just like Greek and normal stuff better, I know what I'm gettin'. So, you like milkshakes with syrup or where the ice cream flavour is the flavour you get? We got options.

so it has been written so shall it be done ok

[nastygram]

Normal stuff? Listen to you. Miss Cultural Sensitivity of the Desert, 2015. Like Vegemite and what the fuck ever isn't grown in a friggin' lab.

[Darlene does not stand up, but observes the standing with her ass all slumped down and her head somewhere in the middle of the back cushion. She smiles back at Sarissa, loosely.]

And I like strawberry milkshakes. Or chocolate, but only if you're gonna Irish it up for me. I do not give a fu-uck about syrups or whatever, go ham on that. Are you seriously making me a milkshake right now?

hallelujah

[magnitudes]

Do I have to get a tat of that, too, or can I just have the sash this time?

( A beat skips by, and Sarissa grins, bright and brief, leaning her arms on the back of the sofa now that she's circled around it. The grin softens off to a more eh, I guess sort of smile, albeit friendlier. )

Looks like it, hey. What can I say? I'm hospitable, as well as dazzlingly charming. ( An eyeroll, though, because aren't I a tool, though? ) I'll see what I got. Definitely have some vanilla vodka and strawberry liquor knockin' about, if you want non-Irish but still-boozy options.

[nastygram]

Okay, obviously it's like Miss Congeniality or whatever, so a sash will be perf. You already have one tattoo to remember me by. Let's not get crazy.

[Milkshakes may be tempering her, or doing whatever work is left after booze has tempered her a little.]

And I will take Russian over Irish. Thanks for asking.

[magnitudes]

( Is she about to ruin it all? She might be about to ruin it all. Sarissa clicks her tongue and aims fingerguns at Darlene, before swaying back upright and moving to the kitchen. )

I'll be right back. You like milkshakes where your straw stands up because it's so thick, or the thin kind?

[nastygram]

[Fingerguns stray pretty close to ruining it, but. Darlene endures. Because she doesn't really want to get up right now, and she has food coming, and she wants a milkshake.]

I like 'em thick. Straw you could pop a tent over.

[magnitudes]

Nice. I'll chuck some dirt and mozzie repellent in there for the authentic camping flavour.

( She grins stupidly, and disappears off to the kitchen. Not for that long, she's an efficient shake maker for all her booziness. Strawberry ice cream, vanilla vodka, some strawberry syrup, milk, and she makes herself a chocolate one, similarly furnished with booze. Different is she puts an actual strawberry on top of Darlene's sliced into a little fan, and shoves a chocolate pop tart broken in half in top of her own. Sarissa is victorious, albeit quietly sweary, and when she returns there's a purple band aid wrapped around her thumb.

The shake is set down on the coffee table in front of Darlene with a satisfying thud. )

Honestly, I'm wasted in merc work. This is an art.

[nastygram]

[Darlene, boneless and disinterested in any part of the shake-making process except for this part, the results, looks up from scrolling through her phone when the thud of the shake gets her attention. Then she grins.]

Yesssss. Dude--

[She lets herself slide the rest of the way off the couch so she's sitting in front of the milkshake, scoops the strawberry off the top with her fore and middle fingers.]

Why do you even know how to make milkshakes? Summer job?

[magnitudes]

Who doesn't know how to make milkshakes? It's ice cream and milk. Even a bitch this basic can get that.

( Jerking towards herself with her thumb, and smiling around her straw. )

All my summer jobs were helping maintain fields and fixing fences and sheep driving, that kinda shit. I learned to make these because I'm a self-indulgent dickhead.

[nastygram]

Umm, I don't know how to make milkshakes. Because I buy my milkshakes, like everyone else.

[Duh. She scoops out a little milkshake and licks it off her finger.]

Seriously, farming? You freaking hick. How the hell did you not lose it?

[magnitudes]

Americans are hicks. I'm a rough as guts rural, sorry we can't all be metropolitan fuckers like you.

( She grabs her pop tart pieces, crunching into one, and spearing the other into her shake. )

Grew up with it. Taught myself how to make explosives outta fertiliser. Wasn't all dull as sheep shit.

[nastygram]

Rural, [she drawls, playfully, in a way she wouldn't otherwise,] is like the same as hick, dumbshit.

[Profound. You can tell by the way she does brief one-handed spirit fingers.]

Props for finding a way to shift that into something I'm kind of into though. How do you make shit explosives?

[magnitudes]

( A moment of serious contemplation, before she settles on: )

Nah.

( Enlightened. That's better than profound. Because I say so.

Talk of explosives, though, gets a grin from her. No matter how death depressed and maudlin she might have been earlier, explosives are always her jam. )

Ammonium Nitrate. It's in most commercial fertilisers - it's not quite you just pack some manure into a box and it'll get feisty with some sparks applied. Artificial fertilisers you can figure out the precise measurements you need. Ammonium is the fuel, nitrate is the oxidiser. Add ignition?

( She snaps her fingers, and there's an appropriately dramatic little spark of a tiny firework, the air around her fingers aflame for a second. ) So, mix the right kind of fertiliser in with some petrol? My uncle'd keep a stack of that on hand, for tractors and that. Most fertilisers that you can get at your Bunnings or whatever the fuck gardening place you've pissed off to, they might have ammonium nitrate, but it's probably gonna have other chemicals mixed in that mean it'll just burn, not explode. Basically you get a big dramatic chemical reaction that ends up with a lot of gas, and that plus the detonation reaction and the liquid fuel means it can be a big reaction.

( Sarissa shrugs. ) I used to be a bomb tech. Learned how to assemble and disassemble more reliable shit than fertiliser bombs, doin' that.

[nastygram]

[See, now, this is the kind of potentially useful shit Darlene is here for. A lot of friggin' words, but that probably means that Sarissa knows what she's talking about. Or she's full of shit, could go that way too. They're both pretty shitfaced by this point; Sarissa should be less successful at bullshitting, if she's shitfaced. Darlene will also be less skilled at discerning the bullshit.

And also, what was with that finger spark. Darlene, with her eyes narrowed, practically talks over the end of Sarissa's explanation as she leans forward.]

Okay, okay. Wait. What was that?

[magnitudes]

Pyrotechnic Manipulation.

( Carefully bitten out, the kind of careful that comes with being— yeah, shitfaced, and knowing the words real good. Familiar, roll off the tongue, but right now they could roll off the tongue and into a ditch, if she's not careful. Sarissa rolls her shoulders, and holds out her palm, letting a ball of light shape over it. It rains sparks, over her skin and onto the floor, before the sparks start to take shapes - stars, flowers, random geometric shapes. )

I'm a walking fireworks exhibition, basically. Or, I'm just ignition.

[nastygram]

[Charmed by the display, Darlene sucks in a breath and holds it, as she watches, leaned awkwardly forward like she needs a better vantage point. When it's over--]

Fucking unfair.

[--full of something like jealousy and a little bit like admiration.]

The shit the porter gives out. Totally unfair. You can do an indoor fireworks display, like-- come on.

[She slumps back, with a sigh.]

[magnitudes]

( oh no, Darlene

No no that was a critical mistake, because

Well

... sigh. Sarissa leans over, with the brightest smile she's had yet since Darlene turned up during Sexy French Depression, and: )

D'you reckon it's my sparkling personality?

[nastygram]

[Oh my god.

Thank you alcohol: Darlene actually grins, lazily. She reaches over with equal laziness to push her hand against Sarissa's face again, trying either to get rid of her or at least turn that stupid smile elsewhere.]

Fuck off, loser.

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa, helpfully, sways very slightly at the push, but only before making a light, brief nip at Darlene's hand, more Goofy Labrador than Aggreived Yorkshire Terrier or Indignant Feline.

It's a momentary, unpainful thing, before she sways closer again. )

Nah, sorry.

[nastygram]

Dude.

[Darlene snorts before she breaks into a laugh. Ew, hand biting. Ew, Sarissa. When she sways closer this time, Darlene presses the heel of her hand to Sarissa's forehead, effectively keeping her at bay.

Except her arm is noodley, and her strength is kind of lacking. C'est la vie.]

Are you seriously a biter.

[magnitudes]

A biter. A sucker. I'm pretty comparable to most of Australia's grossest creatures, if not the deadliest ones.

( she grins, leans against Darlene's hand without truly putting any of her weight behind it, because she's not here to devastate those sad linguini arms. )

Besides, biting is fun, on both ends. Within reason.

[nastygram]

Yeah?

[Darlene relaxes at the elbow, just a little, tipping Sarissa that much closer to her.]

Prove it, bitch.

[magnitudes]

( Thankfully she still has enough control of her limbs that she doesn't straight up topple forwards.

Instead she just eases closer, eyebrows quirking in a brief moment of wait, am I misreading this situation? before she bats the thought away. Sarissa considers Darlene for a second, just long enough that her mouth tugs into a sharp, crooked smile before she leans forward, and catches Darlene's lip with her teeth - a slow drag of her teeth, that she near immediately chases with a kiss.

It's a bad idea, probably, somehow on the spectrum of ideas that the world has offered, but being shitfaced and having stupid chats with Darlene is about the best she's felt since Gabriel Gray applied electricity to her skin and hacked her skull open, so she'll take it. She's never been great at impulse control, anyway. )

[nastygram]

[Darlene smiles, first, at that bite--almost a smirk, mostly pleased, she has this situation right where she wants it--and her smile briefly distorts her mouth against Sarissa's, before it resolves into that kiss.

And it's a good kiss. A little uncoordinated, maybe. They're both drunk as fuck, Darlene is on just about zero food, waiting for delivery that will never come--but it's still a good kiss for all that. Too much lean before she corrects that; the hand that was on Sarissa's forehead grips now at Sarissa's shoulder, and her other hand stays planted in the couch cushion, an attempt to ground herself.]

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa has always been malleable. On certain points at least - she will gladly build up idealistic scenarios and interpretations of people. It's what made her see Kavinsky as a kid who just needed some help, and Alison as a woman without any kind of flaw. It made Gabriel seem lonely instead of alarming and Ruby seem like a threat, because there's a fracture in it that means she either believes the best or the very worst, and she finds it hard to pick the balance between. It was why it was easier to cope with thinking Georgia hurt her on purpose and had been the worst all along, and slowly starting to consider that maybe she was just Georgia still had been so painful.

Darlene was weird. Engaging, but weird, and some part of her might be aware she playing into some scenario, but more of her doesn't care. A messy, fun, shitfaced kiss is a relief, and it has her hand anchoring at Darlene's waist to tug her closer.

This is totally fine. Nothing could go wrong, because this doesn't matter. )