IC CONTACT - MASK OR MENACE

[batstard]

[The default voicemail is still set up here. No name is attached to it, just the number.]

Comments

[pummelgranite]

youre nor get deal with your ass ate sober?

[ Have fun trying to parse that, because before he can get off a reply, a door that doesn't belong there is opening up about 20 yards back. Persephone leans out and then waves. ]

Eyy!

[batstard]

[ he is indeed bleeding and sitting here with his helmet at his side, which is unfortunate because you probably do get a split second of his look of bleak terror before he goes back to his unimpressed face. he gives sort of a vague perfunctory wave and then looks annoyed at himself for waving.

then he sees the tequila. ]

Christ.

[pummelgranite]

[ Her lips quirk, as if pleased with herself for the successful execution of her clever plan to trick him into waving. ]

You said it had to be unopened. This is unopened.

[batstard]

[ scoffs to signal that he is too cool to have this conversation and that he is not affected by the high cuteness of her smile ]

Yeah, yeah. Merry fucking Christmas.

[pummelgranite]

Merry fuckin Christmas.

[ She saunters over and deposits an entire gallon of San Wino at his feet ]

You're not dying or anything, yeah?

[batstard]

[ jeeeeesus.

Welp. He guesses. He will open it. And try drinking some. And then kind of hiss and make a face of disgust. And then drink a little more. ]

It's a scratch, the bleeding's stopped, it's fine. What about you?

[pummelgranite]

Awful, right?

[ well SOMEONE just has a bottle of grey goose that she's hitting like mt dew at a 2004 lan party. ]

Am I dying? Is that a trick question?

[batstard]

Yeah, it's shit. I know you're dying, everybody's dying, blah blah. I'm asking what your problem is that you're in a subway tunnel with a bleeding guy at 5 am on the day after Christmas.

[pummelgranite]

[ How dare you imply that I don't do exactly what I want whenever I want and my actions are entirely divorced from my problems? ]

Told you. Bars closed.

[batstard]

Whatever. You don't wanna talk about it, don't talk about it. Doesn't help with shit anyway, so why am I asking?

[ d r i n k s ]

[pummelgranite]

That's the spirit. I'm a goddess of misery, and I love company. That's as complicated as it gets.

[batstard]

Persephone isn't a goddess of misery. Read a fucking book for once, huh?

[pummelgranite]

You read a book. All greek gods are gods of misery.

[batstard]

Mortal misery. Persephone eats pomegranate seeds and robitussin in hell while we freeze our asses off on the surface, right?

[pummelgranite]

I mean, kinda. If you're going with that there's the whole "hauled off pedo fuckhead uncle" thing, and that whole hell seems kind of like a shitehole anyway? But he hasn't been around since, like, Here Lies One Whos Name Was Writ In Water and all that.

[ She waves a hand ]

I'm more . . . She Who Destroys, Most Awful, Half of the Mystery, blah blah blah.

[batstard]

Uh-huh. Destroys what?

[pummelgranite]

[ d r a n k ]

What've ya got?

[batstard]

[ also dranks ]

What, you offering a service? What's your hourly rate?

[pummelgranite]

Fuck that. I'm saying I'm suuuuper fucked up and dangerous.

[ Suddenly she drops to the grimy floor like a puppet with severed strings and then lurches back up into a sitting possition near him. It would like maybe be alarming if it were not easily identifiable as voguing. ]

I'm prolly gonna end the world.

[batstard]

[ okay honey well you getting drunk and voguing in a subway tunnel is still alarming so jot that down ]

Yeah? How come?

[pummelgranite]

Prophecy.

[batstard]

Yeah, no. I meant what is your motivation for destroying the world. Do you have one, or is this just a thing that's happening to you?

[pummelgranite]

Oh yeah, no idea. Wasn't like a statement of intent.

[batstard]

Yeah.

So you believe in it? Or are you just fucking with me.

[pummelgranite]

Por que no los dios?