(2018-03-31) When Lava Meets Cool Water
Patching Up
Summary: Healing other wounds.
Date: IC Date (2018-03-31)
Related: None
Player Characters: Audgrim, Denver

Lobby - Cahuenga Building - The Bay

The Cahuenga is a building where mob doctors and drug dealers might actually feel at home, with worn carpets and mustard colored walls, with lights that seem too bright when you're under them but still manage not to illuminate much of anything. A building where the smell of stale cigar butts would be the cleanest odor. There's a directory in the lobby, a fake gold-bronze number that seems to have a sickly glow beneath the yellow bulb directed at it, numbers with names and numbers without names. Plenty of vacancies or plenty of tenants who wish to remain anonymous. Painless dentists, private eyes, small dying businesses, mail order schools that will teach you to be anything you want if the postal inspectors or FBI don't catch up with them first.


The aftermath of slaughter is always a very sombering experience. Audgrim, completely unscathed and oddly detached about the whole thing throughout, did help out randomly in his usual non-commital ways; if not told directly what to do, he'd have probably just wandered off to take a nap somewhere out there near the scene of the attack. But - that's just how he is, and he listens to Bea who always gets him to do things. Maybe cause she usually has food. To his credit, he does seem very concerned about the hurt friends - maybe he didn't realise how bad it was out there when he was slinking around inside looking for Sophia. So, he doesn't protest at all mopping up dead bodies.

Once back in town, he just slunk off with a 'going for a nap' - but he didn't really go that far. He's sitting on the floor behind a large fake and very dusty plastic plant, keeping an eye on the stairs. Guarding the place, just in case.

There was no thrill of the fight this time, though Denver did finally get a chance to see what Quiet was like in a fight. Terrifying and awesome, just like she'd expected. Having dragged Eddie back to his office, Denver wanted to make sure he was okay. Now that he's in the much more reliable hands of Ida, she can go home herself. She took a few bullets, of course, but nothing terrible, most of the blood and bullet scarred clothing hidden by the time she reaches the bottom step, pulling up the zipper on her leather jacket.

Everything about her is odd at the moment. Her face a cold mask as her foot impacts on the ground and she starts towards the door. Despite the slumped shoulders and icey expression, which would send just about anyone screaming out of her way, the flames lick around her wildly, almost frantic. She has no idea that Audgrim is there, curled up behind a fake plant.

Audgrim looks up from his deceptive sleep - he could just have been some bum having managed to slink inside for a spell. The manager doesn't seem to care, or have noticed him - but that might be because he has a brand new bottle of whiskey with him. Soon as he realise it's Denver he quietly climbs to his feet and then hesitates; he does notice those wildly flickering flames.

"Denver," he says with that quiet rasp, because he's not about to spring a surprise on her - he likes his head where it is. "Wait."

Hands shoved into her pockets, head turned down, Denver was just about to the door when she hears her name. The voice causes her eyes to flutter shut for a moment, the fiery woman trying to take a deep breath as the more immediate reaction is obvious in the flames, like sun bursts popping off around her. She doesn't turn around immediately because frankly, she's not good at hiding emotion, and it is going to take her longer to plaster a look other than pain on her face.

Denver manages a more neutral expression after a solid thirty seconds, slowly turning on her heels and lifting up her chin to settle a look towards Audgrim. He's give a quick once over to make sure he's not hurt before she tries her hardest at a smile. "You weren't hurt. That's good."

It's almost comical that they both have to put on fake faces to talk to each other. All Audgrim's fault, of course. He saunters closer, hands in pockets of his pants, face splitting into that lazy, rascally grin. Strained though. A bit on edge. His tail is flicking fast and erratically; that is what really betrays his emotions, but she might not know those signs. "Didn't do much," he muses, "but I sneak. Like we say." He sniffs the air, smelling some of her blood - it makes him frown and his tail flick furiously for a few seconds. "You still hurt."

"Yeah. Lucky for us she wasn't really a 'prisoner' prisoner, or it could have been worse." It's spoke through partially gritted teeth, Denver struggling with how normal he seems. Her eyes move to his tail, then to his face as she pulls her jacket tighter around her body. "I'm fine. It's just some bullet wounds, they'll heal. Just… don't feel like eating right now. I'll hit a buffet in the morning or something."

Audgrim is like a moth drawn to flame. He wants to not get burned but can't resist it. "I could help," he says - he did bandage her all up just the other day, so she knows he can do something for her. Unable to stand still, he begins pacing about the lobby, hands pulled out of his pockets and curled into fists one second, flexing with the claws the next; he's getting all tensed up just thinking about being that close, but really wanting to help her. "People need to sneak more," he sums it up, glumly. "Not get shot so much."

The flames move with him, but the woman herself remains still and almost statue like. "Ida did a bit of a patch job already, I'm sure I'll be fine." Her nails dig into her palms, hands hidden in her pockets. He can smell the fresh blood from the strain of the restraint she's trying to show. "I don't sneak. I am a mountain." Her head dips down again, eyes narrowed as she glares at the floor. "You reminded me of that the other day. Of my place. I am a mountain. I'm meant to stand alone. To shield others. It's who I am." It's what her durance taught her. She'd almost forgotten.

Audgrim's frustrations grow and grow; he's breathing fast and is starting to look for an outlet to all these pent up feelings. It's not much, but he cuts lose one of the fake leaves of that plant and proceeds to shred it into strips with his claws, standing still again though his tail is dancing madly. "No," he says. He can't express himself - not like this. He doesn't have the words, can't formulate it in his mind. "/No/."

Those bright, glowing eyes watch as Audgrim struggles, not understanding it in the slightest. This is what he wanted, and she's trying. So why is it no? "I don't—" Her voice cracks along with her composure, head tilting down in shame. He can hear a sizzle as lava rolls down her cheek and splashes onto the floor. It burns, sizzles, then dries right up with no mark left behind. She swipes a hand across her eyes, taking a deep breath that rattles in her chest. Her other hand is still curled tight, nails embedded into her flesh. "I'm trying to give you what you want, Grim. I don't handle emotions well. You are the first person I've had feelings for since… before my Durance, and I have to deal with the fact that you don't feel the same way and I don't know -how-. I was -happy-. You reminded me that I could actually BE happy. But not the same way you want. I care about you, and I am damn well gonna respect that. But maybe that means I have to not be where you are for awhile, because I don't know how to -not- feel this pain.

This isn't what Audgrim wants. It never was. It's what he thinks would be /best/ - for her. For him. He drops the shredded plastic leaves, stunned by her words, staring at her with mounting desperation. Those tears, they burn right through him, rattling his very core. He shoots a hand out and punches his claws right through the plaster on the wall next to the plastic plant, growling. "I can't think," he responds, voice an animalistic rasp. "You make me not think. All I /can/ think is, I will hurt you. I'm not good. I'm bad, for you."

Denver watches as the fist goes through the drywall, not thinking about the fact that there was a person watching the lobby not too long ago. Hopefully he doesn't call the cops. But those are thoughts for later. With her composure in pieces, there is only fire. "-THIS- is not good for me," she points out as her voice raises, shaking somewhere between pain and anger. "This is hurting me, so yeah, I guess you're right about that one." it's almost a snarl. Her hands move up to cover her face, leaving a streak of blood from her palm as she scrubs her face. "I'm not going to stand here and try to convince someone I'm worth taking a chance on. Especially someone who has already decided that I'm not."

The desk man looks up bleary eyed from having fallen asleep on his chair. What's that ruckus? He reaches for his bottle again, looking down the dim corridor at the two. He eyes his telephone. He knows Audgrim from before, and instead considers if he can get more whiskey or more money out of this - after everyone's calmed down.

Audgrim calms down. He's drained, emotionally - and he just can't stand seeing her like this. Moving closer, he reaches a hand out, and if she allows it, he'll gently cup her cheek and wipe tears away with his thumb. For someone who always claims that everything will be alright, he's sure moved this whole thing into the darkest most hopeless corner in his own mind. Because hope is for others, not himself. "So, you not only like me cause I throw you?" he asks, somewhere finding a bit of humor in all the misery.

The hand on her face will quickly betray the fact that Denver is trembling. Anger plus other intense emotions, plus Summers are a volatile combination. The fact that she hasn't exploded is a miracle. Her eyes close as he touches her face, moving her cheek into him palm with as she catches a shakey breath. Didn't she just say she wasn't going to stand there? But then he touched her and her defenses crumbled. "What?" Glowing eyes reopen to settle on Audgrim, head shaking. "I like you because you're kind and funny. Because you care about people. Because your strength isn't just on the outside."

Audgrim /loves/ her hair - his hand slide back from her cheek, digging into those warm flamey tendrils, claws raking lightly against her scalp. He looks into her red eyes with his own yellow, thoughtfully searching again. His expression is humble now - he feels foolish. But he's wanted to do this from the moment they met, and so he leans in to kiss her. Not a hard lustful kiss, but a gentle and sensual one - if she lets him. The hand on the back of her head is gentle too, not a hint of force - he's not that sort of guy. Not that he even could, if he was.

The proprietor of the place stares at the scene over there and choses that opportune moment to call out: "Hey! You're paying for that wall."

There are so many things playing out on Denver's face at once. Hurt, confusion, longing, pain. It's all there, each of the emotions rolling over the others in an endless loop. Her eyes search his face, half-lidded as his nails scratch along her scalp, causing an involuntary rumble, almost cat-like. Her breath is held as he leans in, body stiff for a long couple of moments. She's still very confused, and it's very obvious. But the tension releases like a broken coil as their lips touch. She raises up onto the tips of her toes to press into it, hands moving between them to grab a hold of his shirt and keep herself upright against him.

What wall?

Audgrim is cool to the touch, as usual - but he's definitely passionate. He gets a bit carried away, his other arm tightly curling around her and pulling her close, his tail making erratic loops and circles. That kiss deepens and gets hungrier and more lustful, claws digging lightly into her back. In the back of his head he realises somewhere that they have a witness, trying to ignore the desk-man's shout - but then he breaks free with a low, frustrated growl and hides his face in her neck while trying to compose himself.

"We don't hit him, right?" he whispers into her ear. He's tense for whole other reasons now, but there's a hint of humor in his voice, too. Even he can see that this is not the best place for a romantic encounter, or to vent sexual frustrations.

There's a straining noise as the grip in Audgrim's shirt starts to rip the fabric, unintentionally. Denver's strength added to a wildly emotional moment could mean many broken things. Clothing would just be one part of it. The passion and hunger are returned, the fire enveloping the both of them as they stand so closely pressed. His growl is met with a gasp as the kiss breaks, lashes fluttering as she takes a moment to regain any kind of sense.

For the first time in the past day and a half, Denver offers a real smile, chuckling at the whisper. "We don't hit him," she agrees. "I'll throw some cash at him for the wall," she offers before leaning up for another hard, but much quicker kiss. "We should go somewhere else."

"You two should get a room. This is a respectable sort of place," the desk-man calls out, though he's starting to wonder if he's pressing his luck. But he's got some liquid bravado in him.

"Okay, I-" Audgrim begins and is then abruptly - and happily - interrupted by a quick hard kiss. He almost forgets about where they are all over again, shooting her a very hungry grin. Curling his arm tightly around her shoulder, he kisses her forhead in turn and steers the two towards the counter. "You don't tell Eddie about this," he warns the desk-man, all glowering intimidation. "We pay, you shut up." He and Denver would NEVER hear the end of it from Eddie.

Just a look from Denver is enough to shut almost anyone down. She may be small, but when she focuses that anger, people run. Audgrim saw it with the Apes. It's the Alpha reflex. Digging into a pocket, Denver pulls out a big chunk of change, slamming it on the desk. "That's enough for an estimate on the damage and a deposit. I'll stop by for paperwork on the actual quote on the repair tomorrow." There's no question, it's a statement, because that's how it will go down.

Her body curls into his arm as Denver takes a small breath. "I think maybe I'll let you finish patching up my wounds after all," she murmurs softly. "Your apartment?" she suggests before curling a hand down along his arm and twisting her fingers into his. Again, not a question.

Between Audgrim's dark presence and Denver's vibe of near violence, the proprietor wisely shuts up and simply nods vigorously at the lava ogre.

Content with that, Audgrim turns about and the two wander out; he holds her hand tightly. "I have a bed," he remembers, because well, she bought it. It could use some serious testing. Now he's almost nervous, glancing down at her with the knowledge and anticipation of what will happen in his apartment. He speeds up. He's never been in more of a hurry, usually the laziest of the lazy.

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