Swapping Stories (Closed)

[samantha_grey]

Who: Samantha Grey samantha_grey, Eve Samson expy
What: Drinks and stories about old conquests/fights between two girls with way too much experience with demons.
When: Day 133, right after work.
Where: A local bar that's more gray than colored, but where the drinks at least have life.
Rating: PG-13 (Warning for triggery issues, since Eve may ask Sam to share some of her stories. If it hits R-level, will update the thread).

Samantha had attempted to find something that looked better than just her work clothes. She was in the process of getting the shop ready to run on its own, but professional attire just didn't seem to suit the occasion. Eve wanted to swap stories over drinks, and that just felt like a time where she could at least put on a decent skirt and try not to look like she wanted to bury her claws into everything that moved.

Besides, she didn't want to hear about her abysmal fashion sense for the the ten-thousandth time.

So, she put on just a little bit of makeup, enough to accent the reds without making them stand out more. She tacked on the faintest of perfumes, something to mask the sulfur and make her one shade less offensive. She put on a smooth, red something that came about two-thirds of the way down her thighs instead of to her ankle and actually bothered to put on a white pair of sheer stockings. A sleeveless, white top that covered the scars on her back and a belt later and she almost looked like she belonged in a bar. She sighed and made her way, trying to imagine why she'd decided on heels, even if they were short ones, Still, she reached the bar they'd agreed on easily enough.

God, she felt like an idiot dressed like this. Worst of all, she could almost feel eyes on her, the last thing she really wanted. Still, if they were going to trade stories like these, she might as well.

Comments

[expy]

"...A necromancer," she mumbles, taking a sip from her own glass and staring at its contents. Necromancy wasn't possible in her own world, as far as she knew, but the name and the concept of rising the dead felt so very familiar to her. It felt like an itch she just couldn't reach--annoying and bothersome until it goes away.

Quietly, she takes another sip and shrugs. "And here you were, criticizing me for going after the assholes," she replies, a faint smirk on her lips. "That sounds to me like a textbook case of doing just that."

[samantha_grey]

"She wasn't the worst person I've ever had an interest in, by a pretty decent margin," she said, chuckling and holding up her hands defensively. "Besides, I'm not really sure we were a 'thing.' We really didn't get along most times. At the same time, I didn't like leaving her out to dry, even if she was a bitch."

[expy]

She snorts, lightly, and waves her hand dismissively at the other girl. Someone hadn't watched as many soaps as they claimed, from what she was saying. "Oh, please," Eve begins, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to get along to be a thing. All you need is to be attracted to them, some way or another."

[samantha_grey]

...

Oh, that was the last thing she needed to hear, especially after talking to Feferi. She looked down at her drink and frowned. "Fuck me," she muttered, taking a sip from her drink. "There's no way in fuck I've got a thing for that damned clown. No way in fuck."

Hey, look! Empty glass, and she was filling another.

[expy]

Well, she'll definitely have to cock an eyebrow at that, watching the other girl fill her glass. She felt a small victory at the fact that her glass still had a little bit to go before it was gone, which meant she could try to sensibly milk this for all it's worth while Samantha moved onto her second.

"That dammed clown?" she asks, feigning curious innocence and both of her elbows on the table. "Is there a little special someone I should be knowing about?"

[samantha_grey]

Downside for Eve on this one was that, even if she wasn't immune to the stuff like at home, she was still a tough drinker for all that she rarely did it. One drink wasn't going to hit her that much, though she was starting healthily into the second.

"Fucking motherfucking Gamzee," she growled in response. The innocent routine didn't work on her, but she didn't care if Eve told her she was insane like the rest of the city for wanting to pound the madman into the pavement with a tire iron. "He and I had a run-in, and the more I've been thinking about how it went and talking to trolls, the more I think I was flirting with the bastard."

"Seriously, trolls are fucked up as hell, Eve."

[expy]

Naturally, due to her complete submersion in modern (for her time, obviously) internet culture, Eve is quick to think of an internet troll without second guessing that assumption. Trolls are, after all, infuriating. It seemed to match without much of a hassle, and so she responds with that assumption in mind.

"He's a troll, you know," she responds, dryly and she were revealing some universal truth everyone should know. "That's kind of what trolls do. They're dicks. Sorry to say, your brand of asshole might just be dicks."

[samantha_grey]

She hanged her head. "Fucking horned-headed clown freaks of nature," she muttered, grunting and closing her eyes. The description Eve had given was more than close enough for horseshoes and handgrenades, and probably closer than what Samantha would have actually given. "Maybe I just thrive on conflict is all. It's not like my last year wasn't full of it constantly."