strangetrip | [GP] Check-In Day: What a nice surprise; bring your alibis

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[GP] Check-In Day: What a nice surprise; bring your alibis

Every check-in day conjured memories of her first, and all of the others, which inevitably meant she spent the day with Lara on her mind, and Petey, Illyana, and Wyatt. She'd been blessed with dear friends and loves arriving, and yet she never stopped hoping she'd figure out the mess that was this pocket universe and get home.

It was starting to become complicated, though, almost a year later. It would hurt to lose the people she'd grown fond of here, almost as much as it would be good to get home. She didn't know what to do with that feeling, but it was what it was. All she could do was tend the bar with patience and understanding, and keep an eye on the readings her crude energy measuring devices out on the road sent to her.

For all the people that came in and out, it was a quiet day. So between drinks, she spent most of it bent over a notebook with a cup of coffee in her hand, trying to design better instruments to dismantle Yana's shackles. Maybe Percy could help her build them.

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That reminded Jag of the one he was still holding by the neck, and he took a sip. "I'll go take care of that," he told Coby, holding the open bottle back to him, and taking a last drag off his cigarette.

Coby took another swig off the bottle, and went to pack up his gear. It wasn't like this was a paying gig he was bailing on, and if Caroline wanted to stomp her foot or give him evil looks about it later, he was helping out a friend and new arrival, and that was what mattered.

It took him longer to get his shit together than it would Jag another bottle, but it wasn't too long before he met him by the bar, a gig bag slung over each shoulder. "Ready when you are."

"All good," Jag told him, holding up another bottle of (chilled) vodka. They might as well stick to one alcohol, if they were going to get that fucked up. Fuck knew the hangover in the morning wouldn't help him feel any less miserable, anyway. "Where's your room?" he asked, falling in stride with Coby.

"The big building out on the hill," Coby said, jerking his chin toward the furthest building of guest rooms, and leading the way. "Third floor." If he didn't have his gear to carry, Coby maybe would've offered to fly them. Jag already knew about the wings.

"It's got a couch and everything, if you need somewhere to crash for awhile." Somewhere that wasn't a room shared with Em-not-Em. The bed was big enough, too, but that could be awkward sometimes, with guys who weren't fucking. Anymore.

"Really?" Jag asked, looking at Coby with surprise and hope. But no, of course really. "Thank you," he followed it up with, immediately. "I mean, I can find some place else, if I need to. There's bound to be a lot of empty rooms, yeah?" There didn't seem to be enough people around to fill a hotel of that size.

If someone had asked, Coby would've said Jag didn't need to be alone tonight, or until he'd been here awhile.

"Of course, really. Look, just...you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Give yourself time to, I don't know, catch your breath, find your feet, insert cliche here. Then you can figure out what you want to do from there."

"Yeah," Jag agreed after a beat, just watching the ground they were walking. "Okay, yeah. We'll see." And, with a glance at Coby, "Thanks, mate." He didn't want to seem ungrateful, he just didn't know much of anything right then.

"Anytime." Coby took another swig off the open bottle and offered it to Jag as they walked. Not talking was okay with him, and he didn't know what he could say that wouldn't be like poking a bruise.

Which, okay, this was Jag, but it wasn't emotional bruises they'd usually poked at.

"So how long have you been here?" Jag asked, because he needed to fill the silence with something. If he didn't he'd just keep chasing his own thoughts around Em. Imagining her by that fireplace. Remembering that look of fear in her eyes. Taking a drink from the offered bottle was welcome, to try and push that memory away.

"Month and a half. New people show up, when they do, on the first and fifteenth of the month from what I've been told. They call 'em check-in days, and roll out the welcome wagon.

"It was mid-October for me. First of December today. Long enough to find my way to the beach, and make friends with the guy growing around here." You know, the important things. "Thanks to Regina, I even have a surfboard."

Had Jag known Coby surfed? He honestly wasn't sure, and the news that there was a beach within range was a surprise, an incongruous piece of news he didn't know what to do with. Everything Coby was telling him meant, "There's really... no way out."

"Not that anybody here has figured out." If there was, Coby wouldn't still be here, and most people felt the same, he thought. There were some people who had quote-checked out-unquote, but nobody knew how or what had happened to them, and giving Jag that kind of hope just felt mean. "Sorry, man."

Jag nodded minutely, like anything more would be too much. There was no one around, and he wound a lick of fire around his fingers, focusing on its warmth. He'd known the world was fucked up, but this... this was something else, and he just... He wanted Em, very badly, and she was here, but also really not.

He forced himself to speak so he could think of something else, because he didn't want to start crying. "What about - your angel?"

Coby'd been watching the play of fire over Jag's hand. It was still hot; that hadn't changed. He shook his head sharply at the question. "I don't think he can hear me from here," he made himself admit. "Maybe it's better that way. Coming to Earth is one thing, but... not being able to get back where he belongs, that'd be hell." Maybe literally. Coby wasn't sure what exactly had happened to the ones who fell. But an angel being cut off from heaven, that would have to be a punishment.

Jag briefly wondered whether Coby meant literal hell, then decided against asking. He still wasn't sure what to make of the fact that angels existed, and he didn't want to think of it beyond what it meant for Coby. And what it meant, right now, was being cut off from someone he loved, too. "I'm sorry," Jag stated quietly, honestly.

Coby dug the pack of smokes out of his pocket and lit one. "Yeah."

Getting to the building, Coby led the way up to the third floor, and to the right, opening a door with a sign reading Tall and Short and entering the way too pink room. "Mi casa es su casa, man."

Edited 2017-12-11 23:38 (UTC)

"You weren't joking about the pink," Jag stated after walking into the room and stopping in the middle of it. Pink... everywhere.

Since he hadn't quite finished his cigarette, the first thing Coby did was check his smoke detector was still unhooked. Then he dropped his bags in a corner on the way to open the balcony doors. "The bathroom's worse somehow. And I complain, but really, you just stop seeing pink after awhile." It could be worse. He could be rooming with an Anael who didn't know him... Was that what it was like for Anael, every time he met a new incarnation of the angel Coby had been? Now he had another reason to wish the angel here.

"There are glasses if you want." Coby jerked his chin toward the end table by the couch, from where he leaned in the balcony doorway. No reason they shouldn't make a better start on their 'get fucked up' plan.

"Let's be fancy," Jag stated, and moved to grab a couple of glasses. He poured generous doses of vodka in, then walked over to Coby to hand him one.

"Cheers, man." Maybe Coby had spent too long in London. Not enough to 'cheers, mate' without it sounding put on, but enough for him not to go with 'thanks' when taking the drink from Jag.

"You know what the funny thing is?" he asked, looking out at the evening sky. "I haven't been this close to home in almost a year and a half. But before all I had to do was hop on a plane. Now I'm close enough the air feels like home, where I should be able to turn south on the highway and follow it down, and I end up right back here."

Jag joined him on the balcony to have a look at the view. He hadn't taken the time to really think about where they were, other than 'stuck', other than 'not in London where Em was'. "This place is - what do you call it? Cruel and unusual?"

"It is. Both of those things. Yeah." Coby stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, and took a long drink of vodka. He wasn't sure why he was turned maudlin all the sudden, but hey, Jag was right. Cruel and unusual.

"Pot? Pot," he decided before Jag had a chance to answer. It was rarely a bad choice, if you asked him, and he went to grab the bag with his stash. "Bong or pipe?" Yeah, he had both. Papers were long gone, though.

"Dealer's choice," Jag answered over his shoulder, remaining out on the balcony for now. Not that Coby was a dealer per se, but it fit. Words were not Jag's strong suit.

"Nah, that'd be Kash," Coby joked, deciding to go for the bong. Another night, he might've called Kash to join them. They could all be baked sad sacks together. But it was Jag's first night here, and he'd had his heart punched hard. Introductions could wait for another time.

During the day, it had been warm for this time of year, but after the sun set it had cooled down a lot, he thought as he headed back to the balcony and started packing the bowl. But if they got chilly, Jag could always make fire. Hell, he'd probably want it anyway, feeling the way he was.

"He comes across as a grumpy asshole, but he's okay."

Kash. Jag made a note of that name. If he was the bloke with the plants, it was a name worth remembering, grumpy asshole or not. "I'll keep that in mind." He stepped aside to make space for Coby on the balcony, eyeing the chairs sceptically. "Do the design choices become more acceptable when you're stone?"

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