asgardmeridiem | [open] if you don't shut your mouth, you're gonna feel the floor.

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[open] if you don't shut your mouth, you're gonna feel the floor.

Who: John Allerdyce and, perhaps, you.
What: Crossing the line and getting his ass fired.
When:Night 267
Where: Baldr, either at the bar or wandering.
Rating: PG-13 for John's mouth and potential violence, will mark up if needed.

[They knew that he drank on shift. They knew that he mouthed off customers and occasionally even told them to get right the fuck out of the bar. But they were strapped for employees, so they held onto him.

Until he got extremely loaded on this particular evening and started - or attempted to start - a fistfight with his boss. The large, burly man had just enough colour to be angry, so he joined in gladly, and it got to the point where Pyro had to pull his knife. One long cut up his boss's bicep later, Pyro's ass was out on the street.

You can find him:

A) Standing in the open doorway of the small bar, hollering abuse at the owner/bouncer who just threw him out, his arms and face badly bruised and a slight list to his walk;

or

B) Wandering through Baldr with a fresh bottle in his hand, a steady stream of muttered annoyance trailing behind him. There may be shadows of bruising left, but they'll be hard to make out in the darkness.

It's hard being Pyro, damnit. So much manpain, so little time.]

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[He can't help but laugh.] I love it when you talk dirty to me.

[It doesn't last for too long, though.]

And if humans hunted you guys - I know, you're too powerful, but just go with it - would you forget all about that just 'cause you didn't have your witch powers? If one that you knew had hunted you was here?

[That gets a giggle out of her, and she's smiling as they head into Baldr house.]

Definitely not.

[She's curious, now. As far as she knows there isn't anyone from Pyro's world here who fits that description, so it can't be about him.]

... Is there someone like that here?

He's pathetic. But he was turned, not born like he is, so maybe he'll just never get it.

[Pyro can wash his hands of Isaac. There's others, like Calliope, who are getting the message.]

If Stryker turned up here, I'd keep killing him until the gods got sick of reviving him and sent him home. Even if it was all I did, I'd kill that fucker as much as it took.

That's probably it. It's one thing to be born not human, it's something else to be changed later.

[Geez that's morbid. But despite her hesitation towards murder, she can't deny that would be one of the few times where it'd be tolerable.]

I wonder how long that would take.

Doesn't matter, I'd enjoy every second.

[Now that they're in the house, he leads her to the kitchen and starts trying to make coffee. He knows he's got to sober up or be sick, as much as he doesn't usually care about things like "getting too drunk." Unfortunately, he's having a bit of trouble remembering how coffee works.]

Four scoops - or five?

[She's going to nab a washcloth and tea towel while he does that.]

Um... I don't drink coffee very often. Whatever you're having is fine.

Nothing wrong with strong coffee.

[He puts in an extra scoop and spills a good deal of water on the counter, but manages to get it brewing.]

What're you doing?

Your face.... [It is all bloody seriously man.]

I can wash my own face!

[No he can't. In fact, he promptly tries to sit on one of the chairs and slides neatly off the side, landing on his rear end.]

[Yeah there is no way she's stifling the giggle that's bubbling up.]

Is that right?

Shut up. [He uses the chair to get back up and sits properly.] Just shut up.

[She just chuckles, dragging a chair in front of him and taking a seat.]

Hold still, okay?

[He's muttering under his breath, but holding still. This is goddamn embarrassing.]

[So childish.

She'll use the cloth to clean the blood off his face gently, holding his jaw with her free hand to make sure he stays still. She doesn't mind doing this, god knows when he'd actually get around to doing it.]

[All of his wounds are fully healed by now, so there's no wincing away or cringing as she does her work - it really looks like he just had blood thrown at his face. Other than the hot flush on his cheeks, surrounded by unnaturally pale skin from the slow rising and falling waves of nausea, he looks fine underneath it all.]

Could've burned the whole place down. In a second. Fucking hate it here.

[Just more irritable mutterings, barely audible.]

I know, I know.

[Her tone isn't patronizing, it's empathetic. She knows what it's like to feel so frustrated with this place, so helpless.

When she's finished she'll lower the cloth, then lean in to press her lips against his lightly.]

[He's definitely not up to putting any more into that kiss than what's required, but he does rest a heavy hand on her hair and just let it slide down between her shoulderblades. Man, is he starting to feel like shit.

Well, continuing to feel like shit. More shit.]

I was born a mutant, and I'll die a mutant. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.

[And because she's been such an unexpected ally in that particular area of his life, he pulls her a bit closer to return the kiss. His is sloppier, though, and probably tastes like hell.]

[She doesn't expect much out of him, not when there's so much alcohol on his breath. And on top of that she isn't going to push things too far, because even if he'll heal up from his injuries he still looks sick as hell.

So there's a pleasant hum in her throat when he returns the kiss, and instead of having to deal with the awkward position of the chairs she's going to just slide into his lap.]

You'll never be anything else to me.

[He grins, a real smile, and rests his forehead against her temple. It's getting less and less weird, reaching these understandings with her. He must be getting used to her softer side, he guesses.

... a few seconds later, his arms are slipping from around her and he's snoring softly.]

[Oh, that's so -

- Cute.]

.........

[Really, John? Really? She sighs heavily, watching him for a couple moments before prodding his forehead.]

Hey, wake up.

Mmm-mmm. [He leans more heavily against her, and they'll probably both go toppling out of the chair soon if he can't be convinced to right himself.]

[Heavy heavy heavyheavyheavy]

H - hey, Pyro! Come on!

Huh? Oh - shit -

[He grabs onto her just before she slips off him, pretty much crushing their bodies together. She may be a bit short of breath after that.]

I better forget the coffee for now. [His eyelids are still heavy, giving him a childish expression of sleepiness.] I need to lie down...

[Yes she is and she's inwardly wishing he wasn't drunk right now.]

Yeah. You should rest. [She'll stand, helping him up.]

[He's beyond rejecting help now - he just wants bed, as quickly as possible. His head is starting to spin dangerously, and each spin brings another wave of nausea. So he just shambles along beside her, occasionally letting out a gurgling sort of burp.]

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