asgardmeridiem | [closed] call me up when you need.

Entry tags:

[closed] call me up when you need.

Who: Pyro and Connor Reilly/Angel
What: A talk that's been a long time coming. With copious amounts of alcohol.
When: Evening 356
Where: A bar in Hel.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and possible talk of violence, maybe reaching into R if it gets very dark. All talk, though.

[Hel's district isn't quite as offensive as some, even if she and her siblings are rather fond of the idea of disemboweling Pyro alive, and their options were limited by the fact that Pyro's been banned from a good number of bars. So Hel it is - Pyro's sitting at a high table in one of the seedier bars, sipping from a beer (he's starting light tonight) as he waits for Connor to arrive.

The text was abrupt, no warning of what this is all about, but he has a feeling he knows. He promised to drain some of the poison from those days when he was away out of Connor's system, and maybe now he's finally ready to talk. Or god forbid, maybe Sophie had her heart cut out during his time without his bracelet or something. The guy's always taking some kind of punishment, after all.

Whatever it is, Pyro's somehow gotten himself entangled when it comes to Connor, so Hel it is and here he is. He's still no damn good at the serious talks thing, but he's sincerely trying when it comes to the friend thing.]

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[ Pyro is, actually, a pretty great friend. The best Connor's ever had, which technically means very little in the grand scheme but everything to him. He will possibly say as much once drunkenness sets in, and repeat something he's said before... Despite being the closest friend he's ever had, Pyro knows next to nothing about him. It will take several drinks worth of explaining for any of the current drama to make sense, since the straw that broke him wasn't an Asgard thing.

What he'd done under Thiazi's influence was something to fix. There's poison to spit out, but there had also been things he could do. Connor is a doer. When he was angry back home he'd go on patrol, and it translated to the situation in Asgard. They'd been rebuilding their relationship and the city -- and though he'd never say it to most people, the Gentlemen showing up had sort of helped him. A clear enemy, a familiar nature, and a decisive win. Not the dragging uncertainty of Ragnarok. For a little while, things had felt almost normal.

Can't have that, now can we?

Connor looks downright pissed off when he comes into the bar, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. There's two odd things already. He spots Pyro and takes the seat across from him, gesturing to the bartender to bring him what his friend is having. Another reason he chose Hel... In his own district he's less likely to be questioned on whether or not he should be drinking. ]

Hey. Thanks for coming.

I'll never pass up a drink. [He shrugs, that usual careless, oblique way of acknowledging when he's doing an actual good thing.] This still your first time actually drink-drinking?

Yeah. How much do you think I'll regret it tomorrow?

[ at least he's self aware! ]

[That gets a snort out of him.]

Oh man, so much. Aspirin and a shitload of water, you'll survive.

[He's not pushing anything yet. It'll come out.]

[ Connor shakes his head, as if scolding himself in advance for bad decisions. But when the bartender places a glass of beer in front of him he just says thank you and takes a drink. ]

You don't want to know what that tastes like.

Wait 'til we break out the whiskey. It tastes better and has a hell of a burn.

[No, he won't be slipping Connor whiskey on his first try with alcohol. He'll be getting some for himself, though.]

So you get roped into that cleanup too? I didn't see you around.

Yeah. We were probably working in different districts, that's all.

[ His bracelet chirps and the scowl returns, but he doesn't check the message. Just takes another drink. ]

Avoiding someone?

[It's said casually enough, but he can't stop there.]

You've gotta know by now that you picked the wrong guy if this is girl shit.

It's not girl shit. [ The phrase comes out sort of awkward, like they aren't words he'd put together. ] Someone's screwing with me.

[Okay, now he's taking things seriously.]

Keep going.

I barely know him. Today he sends me bad news about someone from home, then starts calling me brother.

You've never really explained the whole family thing. [To be fair, he hasn't gone into excruciating detail either, but now Connor's is relevant.] Is it possible?

Technically he'd be...

[ Connor's brow furrows as he draws a mental family tree. ]

Like a half nephew or great nephew or something. Who's a hundred years older.

[ This beer is doing nothing, Pyro!!! ]

What the fuck. None of the time crap they pull here? This is in your own world?

[He massages one temple, suddenly reminded of an odd conversation in multicoloured fonts from ages ago.

It's like he's read Connor's mind a moment later.]

We need something harder. Or I do, anyway.

No, it's in my own world. My father is his grandfather, sort of, since Angelus isn't actually my father, just the--

[ His bracelet chimes with another message and he puts down his glass to reply to it, movements sharp and angry. ]

We need something harder.

Yeah, be right back.

[Fuck it, he's getting whiskey. If he gets a furious call from a violently ill Connor tomorrow, he'll deal with it then. He comes back with a bottle and two shot glasses, setting them down heavily and cracking the label.]

Alright. [This time he swings his chair around, straddling it.] Start again.

[ Connor eyes the bottle warily, then his bracelet chirps and he motion for Pyro to pour. ]

None of this is going to make sense unless you know my parents are vampires. Biological parents, I mean.

[Both glasses are filled as Connor speaks, and Pyro's hand doesn't even twitch at the word 'vampire.']

I've heard so much weirder here, man. [He shoves one toward Connor.] You don't need to take it in one hit, this shit's strong. So, vampires - now you make it make sense.

I didn't think a little species difference would come between us at this point.

[ He takes the little glass, not drinking yet. ]

My mother sired my father, who sired another vampire, and she made this guy. They hate each other.

So you've got - who made who family, and actually had kids family? Doesn't that make your mom your grandma?

[He'll be slamming his shot immediately.]

[ Interesting question.... He tries the whisky before answering, and looks like he hates it but drinks half the shot. ]

Maybe, but my father is technically someone else. He got his human soul back in between. Not that it matters, the point is they hate each other. And that really burns.

Wait, what?

[Now Connor's just fucking with him. That's barely even english.]

What?

[ He's drinking the other half now. ]

Vampires are corpses with demons inside. The demon has the memories, maybe that's because they get the brain, who knows... But the person's soul is gone. My father has it back.

So - which one is actually the dad-dad again?

[ See, we're already confused. He nudges his glass back. ]

My biological father is Angel, he has a soul and horrible taste in karaoke music. Spike's grand-sire is the demon. It doesn't make us related.

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