2014-11-10 Reefer Madness
This scene is rated PG-13
Warning: Language. And… REEFER.
2014-11-10
Players: Angelica, Drake
GMed by Both!
Title: Reefer Madness

The door to the room Angelica Jones has claimed is shut, but there's music playing. It's 80s rockabilly, very bouncy music, and the lyrics can be heard through the door. Diode, cathode, electrode, overload, generator, oscillator — make a circuit with me! Even out in the hall, the sweet incense that tends to cling to her scents the air, probably burning inside.

WHEN SUDDENLY!

*knock, knock*

Outside AJ's door stands Drake, fidgeting uncomfortably. It took a little snooping finding out which room was Angelica's, but just that - a little. After all, some things had been moving into a particular room today, and a number of people have taken notice.

But more to the point, there's Drake. At the door. A large, rolled up shiny paper of some kind under his left arm, and a cellphone in his right hand.

"JUST A MINUTE!" AJ shouts. There's a little scrambling, things being rearranged, and then a bit of pratfall stumbling over to the door. She yanks it open, wearing white top-and-bottom pyjamas, flannel and all buttoned down… with little penguins all over them. Her hair is in a pair of braids… And she has a smudge of blue paint on her nose.

She blinks at him, eyes wide — pupils wider — slowly processing that he's standing there. "Ohwow. Uhm." She puts on a BRIGHT smile. "HI!" She waves, back and forth at the elbow, like she just arrived on planet Earth today and has seen it done once or twice.

Drake knits his brow at the sight of her, the sounds of her room, and… well, that little blue smudge on her nose. His mouth works a moment without sound for a few seconds before finally settling on what to say!

"Here." The cellphone is shoved to her stiffly, awkwardly, as if /just/ remembering he was holding it. "You dropped, I mean, I think you left it. Behind. At the closet."

AJ blinks at him a few times. "Oh!" She looks down at her phone like she's never seen it before. "Hey! I guess I did." A beat. "Wacky." She takes it from him. "You wanna come in?" she asks, brightly. "It's not done yet. I've still got a hundred books to unpack and I'm painting the closet."

Drake slips into the room, that brow still ever-so-furrowed. She's being too chipper! He thought she was mad at him. Or.. or something. This girl is the epitome of confusing! "You've.. really plunged into decorator-mode, huh?," he asks, shooting a look to the bed, then the walls, and finally the array of nicknacks. "I, uh…" The bright emeralds shoot back to AJ. "I got you something."

AJ gasps. "You got me something?" she glees. "That's so sweet of you! Like a housewarming gift? Oheylook!" She takes him by the shoulders and turns him to face the closet door. There's a tarp laid out before it and a can of blue paint. She seems to be painting it to resemble the TARDIS. And not doing a half bad job of it. Paint on nose: explained. "Isn't it great?!"

Drake pivots to face the closet, blinks in surprise, then laughs. Alright, so he's the nervous one here. This seems so backwards! "Y-yeah! It is, actually. So you're brilliant /and/ artistic. That's a little unfair." His eyes lower to the bundled shiny-paper under his arm. With a hard swallow, he unrolls the poster and turns it out to her. It's a picture of Pluto, as seen from the Hubble Telescope (that is, semi-vague, but pretty). It's bordered like an inspirational poster, with white letters spelling out:

LI'L BRUDDER
He can make it on his own.

"I couldn't resist."

AJ pffts, looking tremendously pleased at the compliment to her abilities, nonetheless. "Anyone can paint a TARDIS. It's just blue and white rectangles." She turns and looks over at Matt Smith. "Sorry, Doctor." She looks, then, at Drake's offering and blinks. And blinks again. Then she bounces and cries, "FUCK YES!" She takes it from him and holds it at arms' length, beaming. "He sure can! Damn the man — men — women, too, probably. But fuck 'em! He doesn't need their permission to be a planet!" And finally, inexplicably, she throws herself into hugging him. "You're the best!"

The reaction to the poster is above and beyond what he'd expected! Drake beams, then lets out a surprised mixture between a squeak and quack when she suddenly hugs him! His arms loop her waist and he glances aside oh-so-nonchalantly, "That's what I keep tellin' people…" After just a moment though, he tilts his head to try to get a fix on her eyes. "And, hey. Cara."

AJ yanks her head back, though her arms are still flung around his neck. "Cara?" she asks, looking totally perplexed. "Who's Cara?" She doesn't look… upset. Per se. Just confused.

"Cara's the girl I used to date here. Started back in August, and ended in September when she left the mansion." Drake's arms remain around AJ in turn, and he simply shrugs his shoulders. "And then there's Doreen, but I think she and I work out better as friends. We've never gone out or anything. There's a girl who works at a Mardi-Gras-style restaurant, too. Sweet'n shy. Danced with'er, but she's not really my type." After putting everything on the table, he adds solemnly, "I thought you should know."

She just blinks at him some more with her green eyes — softer green, mossy rather than emerald — and huge pupils. Her brows draw down in a little frown. "Okay?"

Drake starts to look a little uncertain. His arms begin withdrawing from her waist. "I'm.. trying to tell you that I don't go after the first girl who looks my way. That you're wrong about me…"

"Oh!" AJ looks totally enlightened. "Ohhh. Okay. I see." Then, rather impassioned, "They guy who made the original Li'l Brudder thing is a complete fuckhead you, know. And I hope he gets genital warts and dies. Because little puppies with only one leg can totally make it." She grabs his hand and pulls him over to the bed, or tries. It's… probably to access the laptop she's got there. "There are all kinds of assistive devices. They even made a duck a new foot with a 3-D printer!"

Drake gets tugged along, flailing his free hand as he attempts to maintain his balance. "I-I'm saying I'm not giving up on you!," he adds, determined to get his case out before the topic gets changed /completely/. But in the end, he finds himself sitting on the bed in a daze. "Uh. Yeah. I know Strongbad. Didn't know about duck-leg prints…"

AJ looses her steam just as quickly, the idea to force feed assistive devices for puppies and ducklings into Drake's brain… meh. "People who draw things just to make people like me cry are not okay," she says, sullenly. She tilts her head. "You seem tense. Do you wanna smoke?"

"Bleedin' heart," chides Drake. He then blinks at her. "Smoke? No way. I like my lungs. Unless you meant tokin' up, in which case - what are you, crazy? Someone with my abilities, screwing with my ability to make decisions?" He leans back on her bed, propping himself on his hands to squint at her. Wait. "..You were joking."

"No. Not really. I'm higher than Cheech and Chong, right at the moment," AJ informs him, amiably. "It's very soothing. I've had years of experience with cannabis and my — the thing I do. No events. I think it's dampening." She kisses his cheek. "But I respect your decision."

Drake blinks again, for what, the fourth or fifth time he's done it since knocking on her door? Following the kiss on the cheek, the response Drake gives is a very flat, "Oh. Okay." His eyes flit to the side briefly in thought, simply processing this turn of information, before looking back to her. "I have to warn you, this is probably gonna be the last time you do that in the mansion. I don't remember hearing any rules about it, but there's.. probably a hundred-percent chance of them telling you that's a no-go here." He scoots to the edge of the bed to stand again. "I should let you, y'know, get back to… to your work, anyway."

"I'm doing it in my room. And was blowing it out the window — and can you smell it? No." AJ rolls her eyes. "I can just make brownies, I guess." Then, squinting at him, "Are you pissed at me?"

"We have curfews and no sleepovers. Those happen only in our rooms, too," Drake counters, lingering near the middle of her room. "I'm not.. /mad/ at you, AJ. But I am disappointed. You're in a great position right now. I wouldn't be doing anything that could screw that up."

"Curfews?" AJ echoes. "Drake, I'm an adult. I don't know how I ended up in a dorm with a bunch of teeny boppers — do you know how many times I had to hear 'Roar' from down the hall before I got my sound system set up? It wasn't pretty…" She sighs. "It's not like I'm going to be roaming the halls stoned." She looks down at herself, then up at him. "I'm ready for bed. If you tell me any of the other adults here don't have a drink before bed, I'll call you a liar. And don't tell me it's not the same thing — cannabis is decriminalized in New York." Hrmph. So there.

Frustration grows a little as she argues with him, and Drake gives her a flattened look. "It's not a matter of whether or not you're legally allowed. You're under someone else's roof. They have their own rules. And at any rate, shame on you for screwing with your mind /anyway/. Booze, drugs, whatever, if it alters your mind, it could have really bad results. What might be a bad idea might seem groovy, and the only defense you've got against that is the ability to think straight. Being what you are, you have an even bigger responsibility to keep yourself right than the average person."

AJ blinks at him. "Shame on me?" She laughs, and it's not at all a mirthful sound. "If you think I haven't done extensive research on everything that affects my body — from sun exposure to fucking gluten — you are very mistaken. I don't drink because with that there's a demonstrated potential for me to lose my inhibitions. How dare you think I would do anything that might — " she swallows hard, tears springing to her eyes — but she's plainly furious. "Who do you think you are, you judgmental, puritanical, holier-than-thou prick? I've killed people! You think I risk that lightly? You think I'm reckless?"

She stands and stalks over to him, giving his shoulders a hard shove. "I'm as angry with you right now as I've ever been with anyone in my life — and look!!" She throws up her hands. It's a miracle. "You're not cooking! That's not because of the pot, it's because I know how to handle anger now. And this substance that you think I'm using like a reckless asshole doesn't take the reins off my inhibitions."

Those tears spill over now. "You wanted respect from me?" She chokes out a bitter sound. "Fuck you, Drake. You might get it when you learn to give it."

She unleashes on him, and Drake stands steady in the torrent. He falls back a step when she pushes him, but he doesn't elevate to her level of outrage. The outburst, he had to expect. He lets her get it all out.

At last: "You didn't toke up because it doesn't have an effect on you. Maybe being cautious makes me judgmental. That's on me. But if something went down right now, I could honestly say that I'd be ready to handle it."

"Congratulations, Mr. Hypervigilance. Not everyone in the world spends every second of their life waiting for something to happen," AJ says, bitterly. "Human beings need to eat and sleep and fuck and, occasionally, relax. So this just brings us back around, doesn't it? I'm not up to your standards, so you can give up on me and find someone perfect." She rolls her eyes and turns away. "Good luck with that. I think you know the way out."

"I ain't lookin' for perfection. But… Hell. Whatever." Drake had offered to leave earlier, and perhaps he should have. But at this point, it seems the only rational conclusion. The social anxiety? The awkwardness? Abrupt, sometimes inappropriate outbursts? All of it dealable - even endearing. But the line with him would appear to be drug use. The door is opened, he glances over his shoulder a final time, and he takes his leave, pulling it shut behind him.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License