electrocynic | The Fortress, Sarah's London, Saturday

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The Fortress, Sarah's London, Saturday

It had been decided Sarah wasn't going to the picnic. By Sarah. Because she felt she got the best quality decisions when she made them all by herself. New kids could just as well meet her during office hours next week. She wasn't portaling back and forth for that. Or the free food, even.

So, she'd already been here for a while. They'd gotten back from the retreat – finally, thank Christ – late last night, and she'd slept in, done some shopping, then retreated to the only place in London that really mattered: the Fortress.

And now she was standing outside in the street, smoking as she waited.

[ooc: NFB, and for the boys!]

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"No kids," Atton muttered, "No kids, I made sure o' that."

... Sort of?

As he got up, he almost immediately stumbled and wound up with his back pressed against the table. Oh well. Better than the floor?

That was officially more than Sparkle ever wanted to know about the state of Atton's junk, right there.

"Hey, look," he said, instead. "We're making progress! Fuck, man, I feel like I should be trying to catch up to you or something, but like, then it'd be up to Electroclash," he was never not going to call her that, sorry, not even in the bar, "to keep us from walking into traffic, and I'm not that busted up over Lewis being a complete fucking asshole at the moment."

He did have less verbal filter than before, though.

"He is a complete fucking arsehole and probably a twat, to boot," Sarah replied, momentarily distracted and making a big ol' face. "But, I'm not going to fucking babysit you lot, either, so... fucking rem'ber how to walk, or something."

"I'm gonna punch him," Atton said. His hands found the table and he pushed himself fully upright. "You hear me, Sparks? Next time I see that guy I'm gonna punch him."

"Hey, I won't stop you," Sparkle replied, holding up his hands as Atton straightened up. "He left like a dozen kids wondering where the hell they're going to live next. The only reason I haven't punched him yet is because I couldn't get him alone where the littler ones wouldn't see."

Sparkle was really protective of the littler ones.

Sarah was mostly rolling her eyes and leaning against the side of the booth. Even while drunk she wasn't very good at expressing emotions that were more complicated than simple anger.

"Irresponsible wanker," she muttered, mostly to herself.

Atton muttered something indecipherable.

"...I could go bed now," he added, slightly louder. "Less thinking. Then punching."

"That might not actually be a bad plan," Sparkle noted. "Is there, like, a bed nearby we can dump him in? Or at least a hostel or something like that? Let him sleep this off and then do all the punching he wants after the hangover lets up?"

Because Sparkle doubted the possibility of there not being a hangover involved, here.

It seemed highly unlikely that there wasn't going to be one, didn't it? Sigh.

"Hang on," Sarah mumbled, already patting down her pockets in search of something. Took a moment, but then there was a jangle of keys. "Got 'em. Alex is at a SPA thing ––" That was ess pee aye, not the kind with massages "–– all weekend. 'M crashing at his, it's revolting but it's not out in the street."

Atton barely really parsed any of that. "I dun' care," he mumbled. "Your friends are nice."

Well, they were, when you were aggressively trying to avoid thinking about something.

Seriously, Atton, Sparkle wanted to pet your face.

So much.

It was getting harder to resist.

"Especially when they don't know you've got drunk Canadians," or Space-Canadians, "crashing on their couches," he offered. "Come on, let's get you the hell out of here, man, before we lose you under another table or somebody plays a sad song or something."

"They're not that nice." Well, Jenny was. Which was why they weren't going to be bothering her with this. "But they're okay."

There, that could be her runaway bit of affection for the evening. And at least at Alex's there'd be tons of DVDs with heat-based titles to boggle at for distraction in time of high hangover crisis.

"You okay to walk, space boy?"

"I've walked off worse," Atton announced.

Admittedly, 'grievous injuries' were easier to walk off. Sparkle might remember how well walking it off had gone on Nar Shaddaa that one time.

Still, he was on his feet. And now he was even putting one in front of the other. ... and then nearly staggered for a few seconds, but he hung back in there. "Sparks, hey, Sparks, you gonna--"

Something something? There'd been a song.

"Gonna what?" Sparkle gave Atton a curious side-eye at the dangling question there. "Go back and finish my karaoke number? Drink more? Throw up?"

There were so many ways that question could end, Atton!

"Tap dance?" Sarah added with a drawl. Because she had no idea.

She was mostly side-eyeing Atton to see if managed to stay upright.

"Singing," Atton said, trying to snap his fingers and failing. "You didn't finish that. Just 'cause I went on the floor."

You needed to buy yourself a better set of priorities, Sparks.

"Well, you were on the floor," Sparkle pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "But, like, if you were worried about it, there's nothing stopping me from serenading you guys while we stumble to wherever Buddy's place is."

He had a pretty okay singing voice, so why the hell not, right?

Atton's floor priorities needed some serious work.

Also his music prioties, maybe.

Sarah sighed. "Whatever it takes to get this show somewhere where passing out won't mean I'll have to kick someone's arse for being useless and all passing out and shit."

"Yay," said Atton.

Sarcastically.

"C'mon, finish it," he added.

Slightly less sarcastically.

Maybe he had the order of those two wrong.

"Didn't know you were such a Billy Joel fan," Sparkle replied, blinking at him. "But sure, man, if it makes you happy. Um..."

It wasn't exactly an easy song to learn the lyrics to. Fortunately, Sparkle knew, like, at least most of them. It was a good song for that.

"Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom
Brando, "The King and I" and "The Catcher in the Rye"
Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen
Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye..."

And the next part? Hey! He didn't even have to guess at the next part!

"We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning..."

Sarah made a vague 'ugh' sound.

Mostly for her own benefit, mostly under her breath.

"'s not about the Billy Joel," Atton confided to Sarah. "Someone needs to finish what they start around here."

Yeah, that was nicely cryptic, dude.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Drunken, idle curiosity. Or just general annoyance at cryptic things.

"We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and Prokofiev
Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc..."

So, Sparkle's singing had gotten significantly quieter. Not that he was eavesdropping. Much. really.

Okay, he totally was. He wanted to know what Atton was going on about, too.

"Roy Khan, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron
Dien Bien Phu falls, "Rock Around the Clock"
Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team
Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland
Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Krushchev
Princess Grace, "Peyton Place", trouble in the Suez..."

If he paid attention any harder, he'd have to start making up lyrics just so he could keep on listening with Atton none the wiser, here.

"Shoulda done something. Or be dead."

And that was all they were going to get out of Atton on the matter, as he suddenly had to speed towards a nearby wall for some stability and a quick vomit.

Lovely.

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