tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Jan 2nd, evening.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Kitty Jones (

ironhook)
Summary; A drunken Kitty is sitting alone with only herself for company. Well, she is until a certain pirate comes along.
Log;

Kitty was, to put it bluntly, drunk. And that was something of an understatement. Wasted. Smashed. The more violent the imagery the better. The violence somewhat reflected the headache she was going to have the next morning, but she didn't care in the slightest. She had a feeling she deserved it.

Why she had the feeling she didn't know - she was trying to forget something, wasn't she? If she was, then it was working. The world was pleasantly blurred right about now. Her flat was spinning, and a shake of her head didn't clear it. She smiled, helping herself to another drink from a bottle of... she wasn't sure what. Didn't really matter anymore.

"I'm drunk," she muttered decidedly, taking another swig, and dropping the thing on the ground with a clunk. There were other bottles next to it. A lot of bottles. Sitting on the floor, cross-legged, they surrounded her. Just her and them. Boring. It would be nice if someone came.

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Luckily Kitty's house wasn't so difficult to find, and even with a quick pitstop, James arrived at her door in just under twenty minutes. Bag in his left hand, he paused to glance at the number before cocking his head towards the door, listening for any signs of life. He had warned her to be awake when he arrived, but if she had passed out, it was probably for the best. Just from the way she was typing he could tell she was three, six sheets to the wind.

Lifting his right arm, he rapped smartly on the timber with the back of his hook. He could force his way in, but it would hardly be polite, and he wasn't keen on having a glass bottle thrown at him for his efforts if she wasn't unconcious.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty..." He muttered, leaning against the frame of the door and waiting.

Wincing at the sound of metal against wood, Kitty jumped to her feet with a start, groaning slightly as she held her head to try and stop it throbbing. It took her a moment to connect the sound with its cause. Was someone here? Why would someone... wait, no, she had a dim memory of asking various people to come and get drunk. Yes. Memory was sharpening up now. Not an uninvited guest then, she was sure of that.

"Bloody... door..." Somehow she had managed to navigate her way towards the noise, manoeuvring past the debris and only stubbing her toe on a bottle once (quite the achievement). Now mumbling, she scrabbled with the key, finding it rather more complicated to use than she seemed to remember.

Finally mastering the ability to unlock her own front door, she opened it with a flourish, and positively beamed at the visitor who stood outside, waving disjointedly with one hand. This was followed by grabbing him by the coat and giving him a little tug. "C'mon in, plenty of room, just have to... err... mind your feet." She giggled a little at that. Oh, yes - as far as sobriety went, at the moment it appeared this girl didn't know the meaning of the word.

Ah, so she was awake, if the stumbling and noise on the other side of the door were anything to go by. Well, he knew the drill, and while patience wasn't exactly one of his virtues, this would be amusing enough. So, instead of knocking again, he propped his forearm against the doorframe and waited, smirking. Even the sight of her brilliant smile didn't throw him too much, it was only when she fisted his coat that he blinked, and chuckled to follow the tug into the apartment.

"You-- oh my," Whatever he had started to stay trailed off as he saw exactly how many bottles of liquor she had in her system. After all, he doubted she took to letting empty bottles decorate her floor. "My, my, you've had quite the headstart, haven't you?"

If he seemed surprised by the evidence of her excesses, Kitty didn't notice it. Her brain was currently focused on processing a few key thoughts. Namely that firstly, she wasn't drinking. Secondly, there was someone here to help her drink. And thirdly... thirdly... ah, yes. She wasn't drinking. Her mind, it seemed, was rather preoccupied by one central aim.

"Mmmm?" Quite gracefully for a drunk *if she thought so herself) she managed to tiptoe her way back to where she had been based before, and sat there with a thump, leaning her back against the sofa. Actually it was more like falling into a heap than sitting, but she clung to images of grace. "Have I?"

She looked around, as if for the first time noticing the mess she was actually sitting in. Blinking, she cocked her head to one side, furrowing her brows, before giving a little shrug and a smile. "Sit, drink! Be merry! How are you? Merry?"

"Quite," He replied, on eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth quirking up with amusement. Yes, she definitely didn't need anything else to drink, the way she was staggering around. "However, I'm going to venture a guess that you are not merry, despite what you may think at the moment."

James had a feeling he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, though he hadn't expected to, anyway. Shrugging off the scarlet jacket, he tossed it onto the back of the couch and kicked some of the stray bottles aside. Once a space was cleared, he dropped-- albeit it much more gracefully-- to sit next to Kitty.

"Me? I'm merry!" Kitty protested as she scrabbled around for something that wasn't completely drained of drink. "Of course I am! Merry as a schoolboy. Girl. Is that right? Boy. No, girl. Whichever." Finding her quarry despite her distracted rambling she finished the little remaining contents in one swig, wrinkling her nose and pouting slightly.

Feeling she had better be a good hostess, Kitty resolved to find the good Captain a drink as he sat beside her. Honestly, she should be good at this, she'd worked as a barmaid once, finding alcohol should come naturally to her. Grasping one bottle she shook it slightly, finding it empty and pouting once more, giving a little murmur of disapproval.

Her second attempt was not so fruitless, and she thrust it out to him, smiling as though she was very proud indeed by her success. "Here, on the house. Except we're on the floor. Why are we on the floor?"

"Because its the safest place for you," He drawled off-handedly, taking the bottle and setting it next to his hip. "I'm sure your darling boyfriend would hardly be impressed to find you on the floor with your head split open because you tripped over the couch."

Yes, it was definitely time to stop her drinking. Twisting, he reached up onto the couch to pull a bottle out of the bag he had brought along. It was a clear and without a label, and his own concoction that, through trial and error, he found worked wonders in situations like this. Smiling just slightly, he turned back to Kitty and pushed the bottle against her chest.

"Try this, you'll like it. 'Tis my gift to you."

"He probably wouldn't. He ran off to brood, though," She scowled darkly at the mention of her darling boyfriend. Run off into the... God-knows-where... because of one, stupid argument. Couldn't even be bothered to stay and stick it out. "Bloody ponce."

As Jas moved to reach behind him, she hastily added as an afterthought, hands gesticulating wildly, "I don't do anything to impress him. Or an-nnny-one! Certainly not him. Especially not him." It seemed she was rather passionate that Nathaniel had absolutely nothing to do with any aspect of her behaviour.

It was at this point she felt something press against her chest, and looked quizzically down. It was... a bottle. Full bottle. Drink in a bottle. Right? And if so, it was miracle. "What is it?" She held it up to her eye, turning it this way and that in the light, trying to see if there was something more to it, or if it was just an illusion. Then she stopped suddenly, hands freezing mid-turn, fixing at Jas with an utterly dejected expression. "But I don't have anything for you!"

James arched an eyebrow to her running commentary, easily figuring out what exactly her problem was just by the way she denied Nathaniel having anything to do with her current state of intoxication. He couldn't say he was surprised at all, matters of the heart made people do some stupid things. And he wasn't exempt from that statement, either. As she fixed him with that wide eyed look, he rolled his eyes and rolled his wrist at her.

"I shall collect from you later, worry not," He assured her, knowing she would be forgetting this entire conversation once the next day's sun was bright. He blinked at her as she continued to look at him, then reached over to tap the bottom of the bottle with the curve of his hook. "Go on, then. Drink up."

[ooc: WOO lookit me be WAY LATE. 8D]

Kitty frowned slightly as she tried to figure out whether he'd answered her question or not, but soon gave up and, with a small shrug, tipped the bottle to her lips. Wincing a little after the first mouthful, she peered inside it curiously. Really, what was it she was drinking? Still, the mental question didn't stop her taking another long sip. After all, what didn't kill her only made her drunker, and that was currently a very good thing in her books.

"When was the last time you got drunk?" She spoke suddenly, as she turned and tilted her head to the side in an inquisitive fashion. "An' I don't just mean drunk, I mean drunk drunk. Reeeally drunk. Floor spinnin' drunk. Like that," she pointed in the general direction of the floor before them, "that drunk. Hmm?"

((ooc: I SEE NO LATE PERSON. xP;))

Folding one knee up, James draped his right arm over it, left arm bracing against the couch as he reclined to watch her drink. The little wince amused him endlessly, but he wasn't surprised. Of course, she didn't need to know that this gift of drink was a simple concoction of sugar, water and passionflower. After drinking for who knew how many hours, it would taste funny, but in her state, she would never be able to tell the difference aside from the off flavour.

Her question caught his attention, though, and he blinked to refocus, take a moment to figure out what she had said. Slowly, a frown eased the smile from his face, forget-me-nots sliding passed her shoulder. The last time he had been as drunk as she was now? He remembered it too well. The first and only time he had allowed himself to be tempted into drinking himself sick, and only because Roger had been there to look after him, take care of him, listen to him rant, passionate and jealous and hurt.

Ananova.

"I don't remember," He lied smoothly, arching an eyebrow at her nonchalantly. "A long time ago, I'm sure."

"I think you do remember, you know," Kitty's voice was matter-of-fact, her lips pursed in a solemn expression as though she was about to make some highly grave revelation. Sighing, she absent-mindedly ruffled her hair, closing her eyes for a moment. "You wouldn't easily forget a hangover like the one I'm goin' to have in the morning."

All thoughts of the day to come seemed rather disheartening now that she considered them - and not merely because of the large amount of pain she was excepting in the vicinity of her cranium. Unless she planned on getting drunk again, she'd soon remember everything she'd been trying to forget. And, due to her behaviour whilst being drunk, she'd have even more things she'd want to forget. Assuming she could remember a word said, which was quite unlikely. But still, that would lead to more drinking, which would lead to more gloomy thoughts, which would lead to more drinking... hell, this seemed more and more like it had been a bad idea by the second.

"Hey, cheer up. Smile!" In an attempt to lighten the mood she reached across and placed her hand on his hand -- his only hand -- and squeezed it gently, giving what she hoped was an endearing smile. "I mean, if you don't then you'll be depressed, an' so I'll be depressed, and that'll be... that'll be..." Brown eyes blinked for a moment as her face relaxed in thought, before giving a little victorious grin, having found the perfect word. "That'll be depressing."

James blinked over at the hand that covered his own, then turned the same look back to her face as she spoke. Despite himself, he had to smirk. While she was talking circles around herself, it still made sense in a backwards manner, which was saying something. Normally people so intoxicated as herself couldn't tell left from right, nevermind the logistics of emotion. He shifted his hand from beneath hers, palm moving to cover her knuckles and return the affectionate squeeze she had just bestowed upon him.

"Aye, it would. And we would not want that, would we, considering that would defeat the entire purpose to your current inebriation, hm?" The pirate replied, purposely using multisyllabled words to confuse her, if just for entertainment purposes.

Being drunk, any words said by her companion took a few moments to sink in. But the last words James had spoken took far longer than usual. She blinked in an attempt to speed things up. Didn't help. Frowning, she fixed him with a bemused expression, opening her mouth as though about to speak, and then closing it once more. She repeated the motion again. And again, this time managing to get out a: "Huh?"

Nudging his side she shook her head sadly, "You're not making any sense." Then, having an after thought, she attempted to follow his example and be multisyllabic. "You're... you're... no-non-nonsense-ic-nonsensic-al." Grinning proudly, she poked him in the chest. "Nonsensical. You."

Stretching slightly, she shifted her position and found herself leaning against him. Oh well. Didn't seem to matter. He was very comfortable. "Men," she sighed, head resting on his shoulder, "you never make any sense."

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Log; Ongoing

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