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 Posted: Thu Jun 25, 2015 11:06 pm
Fixing things always calmed Scout down. She had a clock she was screwing apart and rearranging, fitting the pieces in different ways to see if she could still make the clock work without putting them back in the same way. Then she'd put the clock back together properly and leave it on her side table, same as always.
Seeing as the clock had been rearranged more times than she remembered, she figured it was time to ask Dawson for a new challenge. He'd suggested the clock in the first place (mechanical clocks didn't require runics save for the batteries, making them a perfect practice dummy), but now she was getting bored of it.
She'd knocked three times to no answer, but Dawson had clearly said in his text that he was in. Had he stepped out for a pee break? Had he abandoned his room? She'd stood there in her anxiety before bravely pushing the door open.
"Daws ... Are you here?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2015 12:27 pm
He'd forgotten to lock the door. Then again, who came to the basement to steal good things? Only good things here were his beer, and he had taken great liberty with the six pack he'd nabbed last time.
Dawson didn't immediately react when he saw Scout. His face was flushed and his eyes a little puffed from previous tears, and judging by the slight sway and the ambient Enya playing, one could easily assume he'd long been wrapped up in his own method of coping.
He sniffled thickly. "Aw." He remembered the text. "Shyit." Dawson slapped his head and fought to get up, an arm held out for balance. "Hey, honey," he rumbled in greeting, putting up a smile. "Didn' think you'd....so quick..." He kicked a can as he stepped forward.
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Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2015 4:13 pm
Scout was oblivious, but even she wasn't that oblivious. Dawson looked like a wreck and she immediately hit her anxiety panic button (all questions related to Did I _______ came to mind at once).
But she just asked herself- what would momma do?
"Hey, hey. Uh sorry- did you want some time?" She crossed the distance slowly, not making a show about it, not rushing to coddle him (some people didn't like that ...?) but instead just casually sauntering, waiting for signs of resistance. "I can make a pretty mean cuppa cocoa too dear."
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2015 8:27 am
"Naw, yer, uh...Yeah, cocoa sounds real nice right about now," Dawson replied more enthusiastically as he wiped his face with his arm. Would it mix well with the contents of his stomach? Probably not. But he never did say no to people very well. "Sawry 'bout the mess..."
He nudged some more things out of the way and managed to keep his balance for the most part.
"Shyyyyit. Kinda fergot what you was comin' for."
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2015 10:43 am
Scout tried to ignore the obvious signs of drunken stupor (Dawson you weren't sly at all). It made her queasy in a thousand different ways.
"Maybe you should sit down ..." she coaxed him. Scout took a few steps closer, seeing as Dawson was struggling to stand up- she probably wouldn't be much help if he fell (he was much, much larger than her), but she could at least say she'd try. "You don't look well ..."
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2015 12:40 pm
Dawson mmmmf'd at the idea. "Been sittin' all day," he protested. "M'fine. Where the cocoa at, Frizzle?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 3:06 pm
Scout wasn't the type to put her fist down, especially not when it concerned a particularly doughy Dawson.
"Okay ... well take it easy ..." she said uneasily, putting a hand on her chin. "Cocoa will come with time. Nothing good was ever instantaneous."
She took a few more steps towards Dawson now that he'd showed her he was vulnerable and needed .... "assistance" to put it lightly. She put a hand on his arm, disliking physical contact but willing to provide it when needed. "Would you like to talk, dear?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 5:18 pm
He stopped at her touch. Even inebriated, Dawson remembered that his friend wasn't very big on touching or being touched; Scout's initiative made him realize how bad he probably looked. No, pathetic, that was the word. God, he wasn't going to put any of that on sweet, sweet Scout.
Huffing a deep sigh, he dragged his face across his arm in an attempt to clean up. "Nah," he replied, coughing to clear his throat. "Nah. Nah, m'good, sugar." Dawson offered her a smile. "How 'bout we just, uh...go upstairs, huh? Get some fresh air. Maybe some water so I don' get me a bad hangover..."
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 5:22 pm
"Sure ..... sure ...." The hand was removed and Scout put it back in the pocket of her leather jacket.
At the mention of water she perked up slightly and pulled out her purse (she was the kind of person that never went anywhere without her sidebag). There was a waterbottle clipped to the strap with a carabiner, which she took off and offered to Dawson.
"Momma always said stay hydrated in the shop," she offered with a light smile. He could talk when he was ready.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 7:04 pm
"Always a good bit a'advice," he agreed, taking the bottle with a grateful look and chugging almost half of it down in one go. Dawon made a satisfied sighed afterwards. "Yer momma taughtcha how t'work there?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 7:16 pm
Scout made a gesture that he could have the whole thing if he wanted. Thankfully fresh water wasn't a rare commodity on Deus. Yet.
"Yeah. My mom's a master mechanic. I work-" She paused, internalizing something, and then continued, "I worked in the car shop."
She took a step towards the door. "Are ... are you sure you want to walk?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 7:38 pm
His mouth quirked. The tense shift, such a small thing, was so very hard. Sometimes he found himself using the wrong one still.
"Yeah. M'drunk, nawt..." He couldn't remember the word. Lightheaded and blinking hard, Dawson shuffled his way to the door and reached out to the wall to help balance himself. In a few minutes he knew Syn's work would start draining the fuzzy feeling out of his head anyway. He gesutred for Scout to follow him and locked the door behind them.
"How was that?" Dawson asked curiously.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 7:42 pm
"Okay ..." she said slowly, following him out the door and keeping an arm up just in case he stumbled. Really if he stumbled her stout frame wasn't going to do much against his girth, but she could try dammit.
He asked about the past and Scout bowed her head. "Uh. It was good. Work's work." That was a shitty way to sum it up. If she could've, she would've said it was her life, it was her childhood and imagining her momma crying because she was now missing was the only thing that made Deus almost not worth it.
But she wasn't that brave. "Why the midday drinking?" A question for a question.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 7:55 pm
Dawson grunted in response. "Felt like it. Went a bit overboard." It was a little more blunt than he would have been with someone like Scout, but he wanted to avoid the topic (topics) for as long as possible. Altogether, if he could.
He drank more water and softened. "Was easier t'get than cigs, y'know, back then. Bit cheaper too. Made it a bit normal t'go to." He coughed and pushed them on. "Anyway, uh...got a favorite model?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2015 8:03 pm
"I always did like a good pickup truck," she said with a shrug. Scout was never very partial to particular models. For her they were just canvas, they were just parts that arranged themselves differently.
Archer drove a pickup truck though, and that thought was quieted quickly.
"Cigarettes are bad for your lungs anyways," she said matter of factly. "But I sometimes saw momma smoke them when she had a bad day." She realized she was talking a lot about her mom. Probably not a good subject- most hunters here seemed to frown upon missing your old life, or even bringing it up.
Still, Scout was new. "Did you at least have good drinks?"
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