suitably_heroic | Outside a Metal Bar and Beyond, Baltimore, Thursday Evening

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Outside a Metal Bar and Beyond, Baltimore, Thursday Evening

"Okay," Atton said, staring back at the door he'd just been thrown out through. "Okay, that could have gone better."

One of these days he was going to charm his way back into Linda's good graces. Damn it all. She'd yelled at him some more about being a jackass when he and Sparkle'd tried to come in acting like nothing had ever happened (what? It worked with Sia), but that clearly hadn't worked out for him all that well.

And okay, he did have some more aces up his sleeves if he wanted to use them, but he was... kind of trying not to do that.

"But hey, the night's still young, right?" Right.

The night was young! And cold. Very, very cold.

[[ for sparkle and misadventure. ]]

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Sparkle fell quiet for a minute as he chewed on that statement, letting Atton drag him... wherever Atton was headed. He trusted him, by this point, to get him out of here in more or less one piece. He'd sent Sparkle in first, but he was also the one to come and get him again.

"... Think buddy'll last that long?"

Sparkle wasn't a big fan of getting himself killed for other people, and he wasn't a big fan of the cops, either. But just letting someone die when it was a matter of making an anonymous tip or something seemed...

... Seemed like...

Well, he didn't like it.

"Are you honestly worrying about this?"

Because this was the kind of shit that got a lot of Jedi killed.

Alleyway. Thank hell. He left Sparkle propped up against the dumpster for a couple so he could root around in it and drag out their backpack.

"Dunno," Sparkle grumbled, clinging to the side of the dumpster, amusing himself with the way the blood on his fingers froze to the cold metal of the bin. "Covered in blood an' some of it's mine and they were gonna kill me in there and my whiskey's still in the bar and some guy's gonna croak and like one of these things I can maybe to something about probably."

He wasn't going back for his whiskey, Atton.

"You're not dead," Atton pointed out. "You'll be fine in the morning. Maybe be rattled for a couple more days, but hey, who hasn't been?"

He rooted through Sparkle's backpack until he found his jacket and threw it on. "I got some vodka in here somewhere. How about we strike a deal, and you can have it when your brains aren't leaking out through your eyes?"

Sparkle put forth a valiant effort to not look too pathetic as he looked back Atton's way from where he was propped against the dumpster.

"What kinda deal?"

Because the vodka was sounding pretty good, too.

"You come with me, you settle down, you deal with me waking you up every fifteen minutes, and you get the vodka whenever your head's pieced back together," Atton said easily, slinging the backpack over his shoulder and walking back towards Sparkle.

He didn't think 'and don't tell anyone about the details of this debacle' was something he really needed to say, here.

Yeah, Sparkle wasn't planning on running off and talking about this one. Given his penchant for tall tales, it wasn't like anyone would believe him anyhow.

"... Good enough."

That wasn't going to stop him from sulking against the dumpster, though. God, he wanted to puke his brains out. Maybe if he managed that, his head would stop hurting so damn much.

Pretty bad idea, if you asked Atton, which nobody was. Instead he'd try and peel Sparkle away from the dumpster again. "I know a place, just a few streets from here," he said. "Girl'll let me crash there. You can ride this out and avoid some questions and clinic bills."

"... You do this kind of thing a lot?"

Oh, hey. Atton was all warm and not dumpster-like. Sparkle was going to hang off of him like a limpet again. That was cool, right?

~~Let's pretend that was the right icon, shall we?~~

"You spend five minutes on Nar Shaddaa, you'll find yourself getting used to a lot of things," Atton said. Not that was where he'd picked up all of this stuff, but hey.

He dragged Sparkle out of the alley. "What, have you never done this before?"

~~I saw nothing!~~

"This is a new one for me," Sparkle mumbled, shuffling along with Atton miserably. "Well. The being tied up part, anyhow."

Generally, when he got caught places he wasn't supposed to be, he was faster than the guy trying to beat him down for it. Bad luck, tonight.

"I'll teach you how to get out of that later," Atton said. Then pulled a face at himself. Ugh, he was going soft.

"What's the worst trouble you've had?"

Sparkle was quiet for a long while before he finally just gave his shoulders a shrug.

"Stupid family shit," he replied, too sore and tired and shaken to even bother trying to come up with a story. "Cops had to get involved and drag us out 'cause it was getting... I dunno. Doesn't matter. Been in trouble with the cops a lot since, but at least when they slap you in handcuffs you know you're just gonna get dumped off on your social worker again anyhow."

Atton didn't actually care if he told the truth - he was just trying to keep Sparkle talking. Anything else was a bonus.

"Did that leave any scars?"

It usually did.

"Ever get that feeling like somebody's reached into your chest and grabbed your breath right out of your lungs, and then that feeling never actually goes away?"

There was his answer.

Of course it did.

"Yeah," Atton said.

Didn't elaborate on that.

Sparkle wasn't going to ask him to. If he expected Atton to elaborate, then he'd have to return the favour.

"Yeah." He was silent for a little longer before glancing back up at Atton. "You came to get me. They had guns."

That was meant to be something between a 'thank you,' and a 'you fucking idiot,' there.

"Lots of idiots have blasters-- guns-- whatever," Atton said. "That's the thing with people who think some weapon or skillset makes them invincible. You figure out which buttons to hit and they go down just as easy as anyone else."

Just one more street. Then he'd figure out whether he was feeling magnanimous enough to place a phone call.

"Guess they do." Sparkle was looking back down at his feet, now, but just watching the ground pass them by was giving him another fresh wave of nausea. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Something maybe I should learn how to do sometime."

"If you're lucky, you'll never have to," Atton said.

He came to a stop in front of a door. "And here we are," he said, reaching out to knock on the door.

It opened a minute later, revealing a pretty brunette girl. "Wha-- Jesus, Eric! What the hell?"

"My friend here got knocked on the head by some burly jackass at the bar," he said. "He's from out of town and doesn't like doctors all that much, so... I was hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me. You got a second bedroom, right?"

"Hey," Sparkle managed, with a little smile that was still a bit on the unsteady side. "I'm a pro at the couch-surfing thing. Won't be in the way or anything, promise."

Because, really, he wasn't going anywhere on his own accord any time soon.

... At least he'd washed up before being cracked over the head and smeared with some other guy's blood. He could almost fake being a respectable human being, this way.

"Come on," Atton said. "We don't really have anywhere else to go right now. He's got a concussion. He needs rest."

The girl crossed her arms. "Aren't you supposed to stay awake with a concussion?"

Oh, for the love of-- "That's just the movies, kid," he said. "Can we--"

She released a very deep sigh and rubbed at her face. "Fine," she snapped, "But don't make any noise and hurry through. My parents are visiting."

"Thanks," he said, and dragged Sparkle inside.

Sparkle mumbled something that was probably his own thanks under his breath, letting Atton drag him along. This was probably better than crashing in an alleyway, and he didn't exactly have the money for a stay in an American hospital overnight.

He leaned on Atton until they were at wherever they were going, keeping his head down the entire time.

"Just wanna sleep forever," he shared. "After like a bath or something."

Because... because.

"You really want to take a bath like this?" Atton said, eyeballing him. "Some of you people put way too much stock in hygiene, you know that?"

Or he put too little. Either or.

"If you're serious? We've got a sink. Baths make too much noise."

And he could hear Sue making shit up to her parents downstairs.

"Man, I'm like covered in some guy's blood here." And, okay, at least some of it was his own. But still. "Your lady friend won't ever look at you again if that gets in the bed. Sink'll do. I'd probably pass out in the tub or something, anyhow."

Because staying awake was hard.

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