undergrounds | Wings (December catch-all)

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Wings (December catch-all)

Mama told me not to waste my life
Department store, Havering, December 5th

"I fuckin' hate winter."

Skip isn't directing the comment at anyone in particular, no, but she isn't keeping the thought to herself, either. Every so often, she pulls out a hanger, examines the piece of clothing... then puts it back. She sighs, flicking through a few more.

"Is it impossible to find something cute this season?"

At an end cap, she finds stockings. Thigh high, decently thick. And in a few different colours.

"See, this is what I'm talkin' about," she says, cheerfully.

Don't let what they say keep you up at night
Jolly Roger, all December

"C'mon, c'mon, break it up."

Her voice was easy enough as she stepped around the bar, waving off the two who were about to start going at it. There was always something, but, well, around the holidays it wasn't hard to wave off people by reminding them about their families. After all, she wanted to get through this with as little drama as possible. Everyone had a little more to deal with around this time of year, so she could try to lessen it.

And, then, she looked up when someone came in.

An easy smile, a push of her hair -- just a single strand that had come loose -- and a remark. "C'mon in. Grab a seat, an' I'll get you a drink."

Then they can walk on by
Southwark, mid December

Every day of classes before exams, Skip can be found at a coffee shop down the street from the University of Art. More than once, she has a portfolio and pictures spread out on an inside table, choosing them carefully, as well as the order to put them in.

Every afternoon after exams, Skip goes to a little diner she knows for a cup of soup. Just a little something to keep out the chill. Her book bag goes down every time with a thump, and she always sits at the counter, usually without asking if the seat is taken or not.

And I can't hear a sound
for Nancy, December 14th

Meeting with Nancy wasn't an unusual thing. After all, a regular at a bar -- both front and back room -- and a waitress who now got to moonlight as a bartender would know each other. And two girls like them? Well. Skip liked having someone to hang out with. They both got it.

Today, she smiled as she came into the restaurant. Her treat, she'd promised Nancy. It was a decent place. Nothing too upscale but somewhere nice and cozy for them to talk.

"First things first." She produces a small little box, done up in green wrapping paper with a red bow. "Happy Christmas."

But it was Skip. Just doing something nice... wasn't her style, even if she didn't mean for it to be like that.

"Now. Mind if I ask a little favour? I'm looking for a Christmas gift for someone."

Walk, walk on over there
North Pole, December 19th

She isn't going home for Christmas. Skip decided that long ago, and her father made it official this morning. It's safer for her to have her 'flat' at her aunt's place than to be in the house with her father and brothers for Christmas.

So she gets to spend Christmas basically alone. At least she has Christmas Eve plans, even if she hasn't made the person they're with aware.

But that's a week away. Which is why she's at the North Pole tonight.

She has high red stockings on with white heels. Unremarkably, her skirt is short but full, red and trimmed with white fur. Her shirt has long sleeves, but it's also red and trimmed at the cuffs and collar with white fur. It's entirely sheer, and her shirt underneath is white and a corset top, complete with red lace sleeves just off her shoulders.

When she drinks, she doesn't sit, instead just leaning against the bar. When she dances, she's always looking for a partner. Anyone who looks like they might be playing wallflower is fair game to be pulled into the fray.

Your words don't mean a thing
Birkbeck Tavern, December 26th

"Oh, God damn it! You gotta be blind! What the fuck kinda call was that?"

Boxing Day means one thing-- sports.

Specifically rugby, for Skip. She's got a Munster match on one of the pub TVs. For some reason, no one wanted to argue with her when she started demanding it, getting in her one opponent's face even though he was twice her size. Since then, she's gotten quite a few people pulled into it. Though they've got plenty of other games to be interested in.

"That's what I'm talkin' about! Oh, c'mon! Don' just let him--"

Then, on a shot of one of the players, she grins to herself and takes a drink of the pint in front of her.

"Fuck. Still way too hot."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

James starts undoing his coat once the door closes behind him and smiles back at her as he walks in. He won't try to kiss her or anything - not on the clock - but he will privately think to himself she looks very pretty tonight.

"Thanks."

Once he's at the bar, he orders a hot toddy. Just because it's fucking cold out and he needs something to warm his bones. As he does, he slides a package over the counter towards her.

"Got you something."

He may have gone and looked up online what would flatter her coloring the most, but he wanted her to actually like his first (official) present.

At work, Skip is... Well. She's never quite professional. Not unless she's at a gallery. But she's a little more reserved. Which isn't to say she doesn't lean over her male patrons a little more, rest her weight against their table, and other such things. She does, but it's nowhere near as pronounced at it might be.

After James has his drink, she slips the unopened package behind the bar, out of sight, before doing her rounds. Satisfied that no one needs anything right away, she returns and pulls it out again.

"Huh. So you did." She flashes a smile. He doesn't need to know she got him something too. Not yet. She opens the box and can't help but smile. "Very pretty."

To make her point, she takes it out of the box and fastens it around her neck.

James looks much too pleased as she puts on the jewelry. Maybe it's a wolf thing, but he practically puffs up with pride at seeing it around her neck only a few seconds after she opened it up.

"Actual effort went into finding that, be careful."

Skip smirks just a little as she sees his expression change. She shifts her hair to suit it better and tilts her head just a little.

"Well, I'd hope you put effort into it. Can' jus' give a girl any ol' necklace. You're too smart for that."

"My sisters would never let me hear the end of it."

And that's where he takes another drink because he just brought up family like this is a thing they do - talking about mundane crap. They have sex, that's pretty much the sum of their relationship. Why does he think he can talk about family?

"Sisters, huh?" Family? Family is safe. She likes to talk about her family, and she always likes hearing about other people. Tells her a lot, what they talk about. What they don't says even more. "How many y' got?"

James laughs, exasperated just thinking about his family.

"Four."

He'll wait for the shocked face everyone sports when they find that out.

"Three brothers m'self," Skip responds.

Which he knows, but she isn't aware of that.

"Older or younger?"

"All younger."

God help him, he's the oldest in a rather tradition Indian family. And the only boy too. He never stood a chance against Skip.

"If I had to guess I'd say you were the youngest in yours. Am I right?"

Even if he didn't know it wasn't going to take a rocket scientist to figure that out from how she acted. Like the world belonged to her. Of course, that could just be youth talking.

"The little girl."

The only female born to a family of werewolves. She... well. Sometimes she was pretty sure her father had stopped having kids when he did get a girl. He put so much stock into her not activating the curse. And he certainly treated her like a princess.

Even she wasn't self-absorbed enough to think every girl was treated like her.

But she was, and that was all that mattered.

"So. Strict no-activating for them?"

Because, well, to her... She always assumed that werewolves came in families like that. Most of the ones she knew weren't turned.

Oh. He doesn't know how to say that they're all human - that he was human. Theoretically, it should be just that simple but he doesn't know if Skip has some 'turned wolves are even less than born ones on the supernatural scale' kind of thinking - her dad didn't seem to. After all, he'd agreed to having them married didn't he?

"As long as I have anything to say about it. They're all human."

"Actually human," he clarifies belatedly.

"...Oh."

It actually seemed to take Skip a minute or two to process that. She didn't look displeased in the slightest. Just a little caught off guard.

"Huh. I haven't met too many who were turned."

James can't hide the little smirk at her reaction. Born wolves are always so surprised to hear that, it's often kind of flattering to hear that.

"Not what you were expecting?"

But it got old after the first few times.

Skip shrugs a little, but she does seem to give it some thought.

"Most of the wolves in Munster are born. So, guess I didn't really know what to expect."

"Well if it makes you feel any better I was sort of an accident."

He's not going to get into it and he doesn't think she'll ask considering the "no backstory" rule she has, but he knows she'd be able to find out if he lied.

"I think a lot of turned wolves are." Sure, there were malicious bites and the ones who did it out of some 'togetherness' bullshit. But for the most part? She didn't meet many who intentionally passed on their curse except by blood. "But, hey, means you survived an encounter with a transformed wolf. Not an easy thing, y'know?"

"Yep. I'm a badass."

He tries very hard not to smile as he says it and ends up finishing the rest of his drink to hide it. Hey, he can make jokes.

Skip, however, does laugh. And give an almost wicked smile.

"And then you go an' decide t' be a lawyer. Lot less badass. Jus' sayin'."

"Says you!" It's easy to just have banter with Skip. Anything that doesn't require much real thought is easy with her, which isn't surprising - she's a young girl and while he wouldn't call her easily distracted by any stretch, Skip has a tendency to avoid deeper thought.

James shrugs languidly; though he wasn't exactly a lightweight, his drink was making him loosen up a little already. It was nice.

"I was already in law school, it would've been stupid not to finish."

"Barrister's still a boring job." She pauses, considers, then adds, "'Cept for the occasional assassination, I guess."

Mentioning what he is not-so-fondly referring to in his head as The Incident makes James groan at the reminder and scrub a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I guess."

He doesn't want to apologize to her. Because he wasn't the one acting like an asshole that night. He wasn't.

But. Good graces. That kind of crap. A necklace is almost as good as an apology but not the same.

"Sorry. I was being a dick that night."

Even though you totally deserved it

"Eh, I'm blaming my aunt." Because, clearly, it wasn't her fault. And, well, he'd been shot at. She understood. Which, well, made it the fault of the person who'd told her to go over there.

"Nothin' t' worry 'bout."

"Good choice."

She manages to work a smile out of his stressed face, though. Skip was always good for a laugh - which sort of made up for the fact that you couldn't rely on her for anything but a good time.

But he's also sort of...grateful. Because he knows she could have taken the whiskey and just gone and partied with people who wanted to instead of bothering to even see him.

She tried at least?

Even if it wasn't close to half-assed.

In her own way, Skip had tried. Delivered the whiskey and offered up the only kind of distraction she knew. Or at least that she wanted to offer. Sitting and talking? Just made things too awkward.

That was what she'd done, drinking and sleeping around. Keeping her mind off the Accident and everything that had followed. She still hit it hard when that cropped up in her mind and she couldn't shake it.

"Glad you're okay, though."

"Didn't get shot so, yeah I'd say so."

Okay as he could be, right? Right. Thinking about it made James crave a little more alcohol though, so he held up his glass with the hopes that she wouldn't smack it out of his hand.

"Can I get something a little stronger?"

He'd like this conversation to end in them both going to his place if it could.

Jolly Roger, December 20th

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