tampered | I'm feeling so good, so incredible...

When; Friday night, late.
Rating; Well, it's these two, so we're just gonna default to R. There'll be drug use and swearing, that's for sure.
Characters; Meyer & Al
Summary; Meyer's got a new car to share with Al, Al's got some drugs to share with Meyer...
Log;
It's late at night, but Meyer's closed up the casino a little earlier than normal -- midnight instead of two -- because there hadn't been any customers there that late anyway. Maybe it was something about the curse that seemed to be going around the City, but either way, the casino had been looking like a ghost town since eleven. He'd sent everyone home, and then he'd closed up and headed back to his own apartment.

But not to go inside and sleep. No. He had other things in mind, things that would keep him up all night if he wasn't careful. Because he'd finally been able to procure a car. Sure, the thing was a hunk of junk, and he doubted if it'd run without at least three important parts falling off, but that was no concern. The point was that he had a car, and he finally had a project: he could fix it up and get it running again, get it shiny and new-looking, drive it around town or just tinker with it endlessly.

The problem with getting a new car, though, even one that currently has pieces of it strewn everywhere in the alley below his apartment, is that it somehow encourages the desire to brag about it. And he doesn't have anyone to brag about it to. So, sleeves rolled up and jacket and tie nowhere to be found, he's tinkering with the car under the light of a streetlamp when he remembers someone who might be very interested.

With only a moments hesitation, he takes out his communicator and sends a message to Al. It says simply:

I've got something you might want to see. My apartment.

Al'll show up, he figures. He might show up drunk, he might show up with other people, but he'll show up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It might muffle the women's laughter, but it sure as hell won't muffle Meyer's, since he's sitting right next to Al and laughing far louder than Al's probably ever seen him laugh before. There's something too perfect about the car stalling right then, as though the car had a mind of its own and had planned it that way.

"I told you it wasn't all fixed up yet," he finally manages to say, through snorts of completely undignified laughter.

A side-eye is cast at Meyer, stunned by the laughter. Thankfully it's a surprise, because it certainly mutes the steaming sense of betrayal and the injury to his pride.

"Better be the first thing on your list."

With that he snatches the bag back and stuffs into his pocket in an undignified manner.

"What, get it all fixed up so I can follow girls around and try to get them to get in my car? All while I'm completely and utterly intoxicated? Sure."

Not that he's really complaining about being completely and utterly intoxicated. In fact, he almost looks aghast when Al snatches the bag back. "Hey, maybe I wasn't done with that," he protests, even though he really should be done with it, for everyone's sake.

Al hears that sarcasm in your voice, Meyer, and it's not appreciated. Really if the car was in better shape it would definitely not be a horrible way to spend the day.

"You want it back? Either you shape up or you're gonna have to take it back."

It's back to Italian now. If Meyer understands it then he'll know the threat is conveyed better with these words.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sure, he can switch back to Italian, he doesn't mind. It's not something he gets an awful lot of practice with in the City, after all. It's kind of nice to be able to get some chance to speak it, even if it probably strikes Al as being kind of strange.

All the same, the idea of Al telling him to shape up has him starting up another laughing fit, this one slightly more subdued than the first, but still definitely more expressive than normal. Yeah, he could get used to this feeling.

"It means if you want any of this in the future, Chuckles, you come to me. We can work something out."

Involuntarily, Al's lip quirks up into a crooked smile. There's a strain of irritation to it still, but for all its obscurity the laughter is contagious. Someone is learning something about opportunities.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he manages to get out, through the completely uncharacteristic laughing fit, which seems to have seized hold of him and refuses to let go. He has to pause for a moment to take a deep breath -- just so that he can start laughing again when he realizes (or remembers, as the case may be) that they're still stuck in a completely stalled car.

It's back to English, then, to try to be more serious. "We gotta get this thing running again. Or at least out of the street."

He'd expected it to stall sooner or later, but he really doesn't want to leave it here.

"Switch places with me." Because if someone's going to get this car started, he's pretty sure it'll be him.

It's hard to leave the wheel behind. The whole experience of driving, setbacks included, has been a sense of freedom, but he'll hop out as directed. He makes his way around the vehicle, hands trailing on its dilapidated exterior just in case there's any funny business involved like, say, driving him off and leaving him in the middle of the street.

It doesn't take him long to get to the other side of the car, but he's impatient with the progress of their situation, or the lack of. Shouldn't Meyer know this car inside and out by now given how much he talks about it?

"You got it yet? Let's go."

"It's gonna take more than a minute to get the thing running again," he retorts, speech becoming even less precise as he fights with the car. He hadn't been planning on driving off and leaving Al in the middle of the street, but if he keeps bugging him about getting the car started, he might just be tempted.

There's silence for a few moments as he struggles with it, the car spluttering and the engine refusing to turn over, him cursing under his breath in any number of languages -- because if they're going to get stranded out here, late at night while under the influence of drugs seems like a bad time to do it -- but finally the car roars to life, and he shoots a smug look at Al.

"See? Told you I could get it going."

I'm feeling so good, so incredible...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject