driftfleet

Entry tags:

002

Who: Jason Todd, and whoever wants to bother him.
Broadcast: None
Action: VRD // Waystation
When: 4/21, in the wee hours of the morning // 4/27, mid-afternoon.

{{ It's two, two, two events in one! The first will be a lovely VR romp through Gotham at night, set up for his new friends, but open to anyone who feels like crashing the party. The second, taking place a week later in honor of Jason's Death Day (4/27), will involve a lot of alcohol. OMG SO MUCH ALCOHOL. And as many fights as he can get away with starting at the nearest Waystation. }}

[ For the moment, half of the VRD has been turned into a little slice of Gotham, all gargoyle-encrusted skyscrapers and gothic splendor. There's a full moon overhead, and only the smallest shreds of cloud. Between that and the ambient light from the city, visibility's pretty good. It's a gorgeous summer night, and Jason's relaxing for the first time since he got here.

It's a cheap trick, but he's willing to be soothed by this little taste of home, especially since this place should allow him to run the way he's used to. He even went out of his way to pick a time when there would be less competition for the space, and less chance of someone turning his city into a beach mid-jump.

Robins need to fly, after all. ]

[A week later: Jason hasn't had a chance to earn much money yet, but he's spent some of the past week working security, picking up what he can. And now that he's got money to put towards things not a ship upgrade, he's gone and spent it on alcohol.

Yes, all of it.

This isn't a good day for him. This is the day that Jason Todd, Age 15, got beaten nearly to death with a crowbar and then blown up. He's been increasingly keyed up over the past couple of days, the nightmares getting more frequent, and generally he's been feeling like there's a scream trapped in his throat, getting louder and louder...

So obviously, the solution is no sleep, and lots of alcohol. He's got a few bottles of something that might be space vodka, or might be industrial strength engine degreaser with a vodka label half-assedly slapped on the bottle. It tastes foul, either way. He's sitting in the central courtyard of the waystation, already halfway through the first bottle. When not sending drunken text messages with his communicator, he's been harassing random people. ]

Hey, you. Yeah, you.

Fight me.

[ Is he talking to you? A random passerby? A potted plant and/or especially lifelike bit of statuary? YOU BE THE JUDGE. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He snorts, and then sinks down on the floor next to Jason. If you can't beat 'em-- join 'em. Or at least stick around for a couple minutes to see if Jason is gonna really get himself in trouble.]

You say that like I mind lookin' like that.

[ Okay, company. He can do company. ]

You wanna go around raising the hackles of everyone who ever grew up in a neighborhood were the police were not our friends, that's on you. I'm just pointing out the tells.

[ He shrugs and takes another drink. ]

You got a name, Detective?

Hey, I grew up in that neighborhood too, buddy. You don't figure I can get rid of those tells when I gotta?

[He has an excess of energy, and it's obvious: he draws up his legs, dangles his arms over his knees, then crosses his legs at the ankle in a lazy lotus position.]

Ray Ve-- Kowalski. [he looks a little sheepish at the slip-up, keeps forgetting that he no longer has to pretend his name is Ray Vecchio.]

I wouldn't dare to assume. [ His tone's much too innocent for this conversation. Smartassery, thy name is Jason. Though that slip gets Ray a raised eyebrow. ]

Jason Todd. Been undercover?

You think you're pretty as- asta- smart, huh? [He tries not to seem too bothered by that little fumble with words, and nods to cover it up]

Yeah. At least I had the same first name as the other guy.

[ Jason notices that fumble, but there's no point in giving Ray both barrels when he's actually been pretty decent to him, considering. Sure, he's ruining the fighty fun times, but there's still alcohol. ]

I do. And I've been reliably informed that my ass is the very smartest part of me. Pretty sure it could come up with a cure for cancer if it wasn't busy with all this sarcasm.

[ He takes another drink, and, in a show of what's either generosity or sadism -- with booze this bad, it's hard to tell -- he offers Ray the bottle. ]

So it's just your ass getting drunk, now, or all of you? [He takes the bottle and knocks back a drink before wincing.]

Jesus Christ, crap on a cracker, that's fucking disgusting.

Smartassishness... smartassitude... smartassery aside, I think the alcohol's permeating every fiber of my being right about now. My soul is drunk.

[ He laughs just a little at Ray's reaction to the vodka. ]

Yep. Officially terrible. But cheap! Cheap counts for a lot right now. Maybe when I'm more entertaining I'll be able to afford decent booze, and save this stuff for--

[ Don't say Molotovs, don't say Molotovs, let's not freak the nice cop out, don't say Molotovs... ]

--industrial degreasing applications, or something.

[He narrows his eyes at Jason when he pauses- he has his eyes on you, pal, and whatever you were going to say, 'industrial degreasing applications' was not your first option.

He takes one more swig, winces, then passes the bottle back to Jason.] Think getting drunk and fighting people's entertaining enough?

[ He lets out a bitter little laugh. ]

Entertaining people really isn't the point right now.

So what's the point?

Making it so I can sleep tonight. You ever had the anniversary of some truly horrible shit roll around?

[ He takes another swig of godawful space vodka, now that he's got the bottle back. Not that he really needs more at this point, but since when has he been known for moderation? ]

It might not be the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but I'll take what I can get.

[He nods solemnly when Jason says that- he's been there, buddy, he understands. In his case it's the day he got divorced, which is slightly less bad than almost dying in a horrible way, but it's still a sad anniversary.]

I've done that. [He shrugs a little, holds out his hand for the bottle.] I don't blame you.

[ The death was less "almost" in Jason's case, and more "came back from the dead six months later", but that's not a detail he's going to share. In his experience, cops tend to be the kind of people who divide the world into "there's a rational explanation so we're good" and "obviously this person is insane"... And he'd rather not be getting the crazy man treatment.

He hands the bottle over. ]

I figure a good fight's going to have one of two outcomes: either I lose, and I wake up with injuries that don't match up with the ones that are gonna be in my nightmares, so I know where and when I am right off the bat... or I win, and I probably still wake up hurting in different places, but with the satisfaction of actually having won a fight.

There's really no bad here.

[He takes a good long swallow, both because he wants to and because he wants the bottle to be empty sooner.

It sounds like Jason's got a pretty nasty backstory, there, and Ray doesn't feel like he's up for digging into it. Helping, sure- but he's not a shrink, and he's not Jason's best friend. He doesn't know how to deal with it.]

Tell you what: I give you my best right hook, and then I shuttle you back to your own ship. You still got the injury thing, but you wake up in your own bunk.

[ Really, it's for the best that Ray's not digging -- too much stuff to explain at Jason's current level of inebriation.

That offer, though... ]

Seriously? [ He scoffs a little. ] You're giving me the fighting equivalent of a pity fuck?

You'd have better luck offering the real thing.

[ It's unclear -- perhaps even to Jason -- if he means a real fight, or a real pity fuck. He'd probably settle for either... if nothing else, getting someone else off will make him feel a little better about the world and his place in it. ]

[He keeps the bottle with him- come on, Jason, you don't get to drink the good (well, bad) stuff if you're gonna be an ass about it. He's starting to feel the booze himself, and his ears get a slight red tinge to them when he thinks about one of the implications of that sentence. Not that he'd take him up on the offer: he doesn't do drunk people, not when he's not just as drunk as they are.]

The fight or the fuck? Either way, it ain't happening. Take it or leave it, pal.

If neither one's happening, then why ask which? A blanket 'no' works just as well.

[ If he's not just imagining that slight flush tinting Ray's ears, that makes things interesting indeed.

Probably of no use to him tonight -- and your morals are appreciated in the little part of Jason that's still capable of appreciating these things, Ray -- but interesting. His brain tries halfheartedly to spin potential leverage about six different ways before giving up because a) he's drunk and thinking is hard, and b) they're in space, so leverage on cops is less of a necessity.

...Also c) he's not underage anymore, which means a lot of the strings he could pull when it came to authority figures wanting in his pants are gone now.

All the same, he makes a point of giving Ray a long, considering look. Ray's not bad looking, and there's nothing wrong with uncomplicated and string-free, even if he doesn't stand to benefit in other ways. If not now, then... sometime, maybe.

And if he's wrong, then Ray might just have a homophobic freakout that leads to fighty fun times. Jason does love situations with multiple good outcomes. ]

[He sees that look, and there's no homophobic freakout- he's known who he is and where he stands for years. That's the benefit of age- the downside is that he's almost 20 years older than Jason and he feels it, sitting down next to him. He's also 90% less drunk than Jason, so he won't take the implied step.

So he appreciates that look for what it can be to him: flattery from a drunk, maudlin kid. His ears don't get any less red, but he shakes his head with a little eyeroll.]

'No', then. You still want that punch, or what?

I'm hurt.

[ No, he's not. ]

You gonna sit here and babysit me all night if I say no?

You'll get over it. [He leans back on his hands, totally unsympathetic.]

Yep.

Hm. Next question: you planning on handing that bottle back?

[ Hey, a guy's gotta have his priorities. ]

[He snorts and hands the bottle back]

Any other questions?

Nah, I'm good.

[ He considers his options. ]

...Fine. Hit me. But I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off if you half-ass it.

[ It's not like any better candidates are showing up. ]

And I trained with an actual crazy person who dresses up like a bat to fight crime, so trust me, I will know if you're going easy on me.

[He takes a second to consider those words, mostly the crazy-bat-person part. He already met one superhero, could Jason be talking about...?

He physically shakes his head to get rid of that idea, for now, and then pushes himself up.]

One punch, and then I shuttle your drunk ass back home.

002

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