Log:A Visit to the Briar Patch
The Addict is in one of those moods where they're feeling social enough to leave the room door open, but not social enough to go outside and start something. They've just stepped out of the bath and are wrapped in a bath sheet, standing before the grand closet. Hundreds of outfits, hundreds of them! And not a single thing to wear. Their hair is up in a towel, and their face is clean-shaven. No makeup yet.
Finally, they take a red romper out of the closet along with a pair of black leggings. They wriggle their way into the leggings while managing to keep the towel more or less intact. It's a talent.
The Bon-Vivant has been out there eating. This is not particularly unusual. He's been out there eating with Sonya, in this case, and they're making their way back toward the Hall of Rooms, now, rather than hanging out in the parlor or heading to an Anywhere Room. Whatever might have been the plan, however, gets short-circuited when Fizz spots the door being ajar, and he bumps Sonya's arm with his to get her attention, gesturing at it. "Hey, there we go, now looks good!" he says to her in a quiet but pleased tone. He's wearing black leather pants today, as well-fitted as everything his closet provides, and currently barefoot, with a white cashmere v-neck sweater, the arms pushed up. His hair's cut a bit shorter than his 1989 style, and he's clean-shaven today. Unusually, he's got some thin woven black leather and silver bead bracelets on, as well.
Before Bon-Vivant and Rebel can be heard right-up-ons, Briar might've heard the occasional giggle or loud raucous laughter from the latter of the two. She's not a super-quiet person, and this is backed up by the fact that when Fizz speaks quietly, she immediately knocks on the door twice despite it being open, and calls out in a sing-song voice, "Knock-knooooock!" She looks rather thrilled to be seeing Briar, and in a generally good mood, besides. "Anybody home?" she adds politely, even though she's looking RIGHT at Addict when it's said with a toothy grin. She's wearing tight black pants with zippers almost randomly placed on them, a tight black shirt, and a leather jacket with a plush inner fuzz that's visible on the very wide collar flaps. It's unbuttoned. She, too, is barefoot. Clearly it's contagious.
The Addict tosses the towel on the floor and puts on the romper. It's an interesting cut, made for their frame, honoring the masculine features with a little bit of feminine flair in the form of lace and the way the shorts portion is cut almost obscenely high. With the leggings, it's decent, though. They glance up and smiles. "Hi, guys," they say. "Come on in."
They go to sit at the vanity and take their hair out of the towel. Lush, dark locks, still damp but gleaming. They take up a comb and start working it through the strands. "Sonya, it's so good to see you. I was beginning to worry."
"Lookin' cute," Fizz says, accepting the invitation and giving the romper and the way it fits an interested look. The room gets one, as well; it's the first time he's seen the inside. He seems to approve of what he sees there, too. "I like the lace." He wanders the room, looking at things a bit more closely, ending up leaning against the wall beside the vanity and watching the combing procedure, with a glance at the various makeup and hairthings on the surface before them. "How's it going?"
The Rebel grins at Addict's reaction to seeing her, though that last bit has her rubbing at the back of her neck-- embarrassment, perhaps. That'd certainly match her expression, even if what she *says* is, "I stopped by, but... kept missing you." She doesn't mention the intimidation factor of seeing the dead guy again. Instead, she gives a thumbs-up, saying, "I'm a-okay. Made it out just fine." She pauses, looking quite a bit more serious as she says, "Gretchen didn't. I mean, she lived and all, but... she's not here." A shrug, a frown, and she visibly waves the subject off. "How've you been?"
The Addict flutters their lashes at Fizz. "It's a cute outfit," they say. "I've never worn it before." They comb their hair, then shake their head and fluff the strands to give them some body. Then they take up some eyeliner and swiftly applies a little. Just enough to make those big baby brown eyes pop.
"I've been in and out," Briar says, not without sympathy. They get it too well, trying to catch someone and missing them. "Sit down if you want, guys. The bed is like a couch for super lazy people." It is a rather comfy bed, and big enough for people to sprawl comfortably. Or just sit. They pause upon applying some lipgloss, then turn to Rebel to say, "It's hard when that happens. In my first life, my wife and child didn't come with me when I woke up here. It was heartbreaking. I'm sorry about Gretchen."
"It is pretty cute," Fizz agrees, grinning at the lashbatting, and he leans in quick to impishly steal a kiss from the closest of Briar's cheeks before he pushes fully off the wall and heads toward the bed as suggested, taking a small leap to flop down across it full-length. "Mmnf," he says, muffled, before rolling over. "This is nice. You should come flop on mine some time and compare," he suggests. The matter of missing people sobers him somewhat, though, and there's a quiet sigh; everyone's lost people that way, and there's still at least a couple he has trouble letting go hope for.
The Rebel can't help but lean in after Fizz has pulled away, offering Briar a hug. Because ALIVE, YAY! Still, she doesn't force it on them, and seems to be aware not everybody is up for hugs at all times, even if she is. Well, at least with people she trusts. That done, hug or no hug, she heads over to flop beside the Bon-Vivant. She looks over toward Briar with a heavy frown at the additional info about their wife and child, her mouth forming a small 'o.' "Oh fuck, Briar... I'm so sorry. I... I'd say I can't imagine, but I can and I have. I hope-- well. I hope our losses next time are as small as possible. For all of us." Her frown deepens, and she trails a hand along the edge of the bed before just letting it flop and hang over onto the floor. She pauses for a moment, opening her mouth... and then just as quickly closes it. A moment passes, and then, "Is it still as harsh now? Or... or did it seem to fade faster than these things seem to in our encounters?"
The Addict tilts their cheek to the kiss, then puts on their lip gloss, capping the tube before turning to give Rebel a hug. They hug so much like Danny used to, and Danny gave great hugs. They get to their feet and flop down on the bed as well. "I like to think they're alive," they say. "Just because they're not with us in this facility doesn't mean they're gone. It only means they're not with us." Their brow furrows in thought. "I think it was easier for me, dying, because I wasn't pulled away from a life where I was happy. When I was Martin, I was happy, and then I was pulled away from that into here."
"I've heard other people say that," Fizz says, "That dying is easier." He doesn't sound entirely convinced, but-- well, people do keep saying it is. "I like the idea they're somewhere else too, though. Having a nice time, ideally." He shifts position to wriggle closer to the others. He pauses, then asks, "Totally unrelated, but, do you have purple nail polish? Not changing the subject, but Lulu doesn't have any and I don't wanna forget to ask."
The Rebel runs a hand down Briar's arm lightly, just a comforting gesture, now that the hugging's out of the way. And for the record, she hugged like WHOA. Sonya was always pretty giving on those, once she knew you well enough. She hesitates, and then says, "I'm sorry you weren't happy as Danny... though of course not many were, at that point, given circumstances. ...but I'm glad it was easier for you, nonetheless. I can't begin to understand how you felt, being pulled away from Martin's happy life and then to here. I-- I was pretty happy as Sonya, by the end. But most of my anchors were and are here, so. It wasn't as bad as it could've been. The fewer of us who have to go through what you went through, the better. I hope it's not many of us, and that those of us who didn't can take care of those who did." She lowers her eyes. "I heard about Tommy... not being here with us, I mean. And I'm sorry to hear that. He seemed pretty great. I hope wherever Tommy is, if he's anywhere, then maybe Gretchen goes there, or went there, too. They can hang out and wax nostalgic about how awesome we are." She manages a faint, teasing smile. "Maybe there are more places like this, and sometimes we shuffle between them. Who knows?" She leans back into the Bon-Vivant's space, though her arm ends up resting near Briar.
The Addict says lightly, "Oh, Danny was happy. He had a good life, and he really enjoyed himself. But when he died, he was done. He had nothing left to lose. Martin wasn't happy. Martin's life had been hard, bitter, and cursed. But he was starting to be happy. His happiness was just beginning. He lived long enough to have a taste of it, then I woke up here, and he lost everything. That was rough."
They sit up, hop off the bed, and pad over to the vanity. After some searching, they come up with a bottle of purple polish, and they offer it to Fizz. "Here you go. She doesn't have to worry about returning it. It'll be back where it belongs on reset." Then she climbs back onto the bed. Flump. So comfy. "I like to think they're out there somewhere."
"I was getting to be pretty happy as Scott, too," Fizz says thoughtfully, "Though it was still kinda hard. He thought about people who died all the time, still... I wonder how long it was gonna take him to be able to to drum again. He couldn't deal with the idea of being in a band with other people in his dead friends' places, but for a while he felt like shit every time he even ended up randomly drumming with his hands." Which he used to do fairly often when there was music on, so that probably kind of sucked. "...I'm glad you got to be someone happier this time, anyway. For more of the time." He gives a quick grin when the nailpolish is produced, and slides it into a pocket, with a, "Thanks. I'll take it to her and let her know."
"Maybe your wife is raising your child with Gretchen and Tommy and Kirk as babysitters," Rebel says, in a tone that suggests she would *very* much like to believe that, whether she does or not. "Sonya had had a ... you know, kinda a boring life, but not a bad one, before all that happened. She wasn't exactly happy, but... by the end, she was really getting to that happy space. She had Scott," a glance at Bon-Vivant, "And she had the good parts of what'd happened at the Lodge just as much as the awful ones. That goddamned book and its symbols and that ritual... they never did fade from her memory, at least in the year after the Lodge. She'd thought about going back sometime, just in case anything had happened, but." She shrugs. "Anyway, she was pretty happy there, with Scott and the work they did." Somehow, she ends up with one hand twined with Fizz's. Funny how that happens.
The Addict laughs a little and says, "I don't know how I feel about Tommy influencing my child." They stretch, then folds their hands upon their stomach. "What happened after the lodge?" they ask. "Did I have a funeral? Was it good? I'm sorry you didn't drum much, Fizz. Danny would've wanted you to rock out. It's rough, though. I get it. Dying wasn't so bad. It felt weird and awful, but it was over quickly. I was glad Mahoney didn't get you, Sonya. I remember hoping it would be enough to make a difference."
The Bon-Vivant squeezes Sonya's hand, and laughs at the discomfort in Tommy influencing the kid. "C'mon, he did fine with Danny," he teases, "and he'd have Kirk and Gretchen and your wife as a counterweight kinda thing." Okay, it's not like Kirk at the least didn't party, but, you know. Less! He gets a little more subdued with that question, but still manages a smile, if a crooked one. "Yeah, there was a funeral. It was-- yeah, it was pretty good. And I gave your folks your book." He glances over to Sonya, then back to Briar, "Also we decided the day between Danny's death and his birthday was his lifeday, and we had a party on it to remember the people we lost, kinda particularly him. Every year. Well, twice, but we were planning to do it every year so... it probably kept going. Maybe by the next one, Scott was drumming again. I'm just gonna assume so." A beat, and perhaps unnecessarily, "Scott and Sonya started going out, after the ritual thing."
"He's got a point. I think Tommy'd do a-okay, especially with how he did with you! And heck, maybe in a place like this he'd party *slightly* less. I mean, partying is part of life, right?" Rebel smiles, though hers fades a little at mention of the funeral as well. "The funeral was rough for us, but it was a hell of a sendoff for you. And... yeah. The story after all that-- I guess, 'stuff' happened at the Lodge, and we were getting rescued, was that Dini killed all the people who died. Just a generic psycho gone wild, I guess? Some people talked about the truth afterward, but it's not like anyone believed them. There were... kinda a lotta drugs found when we left, given, y'know, sorority and fraternity and vacation folk. We shared your journal with your folks, like Fizz said, though. They took it as well as could be expected. They seemed like good peeps." She manages a smile, genuine, though, and adds, "Lifeday celebrations were... a thing, and they were something Sonya would've gone for every year, even if Scott hadn't wanted to... but I'm sure he would've wanted it. Her smile lifts at his mention of going out, but TIMING happens, and she yawns loudly, then blushes. "Sorry," she mutters, clearly embarrassed, and jerks the thumb of her free hand at the Bon-Vivant. "This'un may've kept me up until the point at which we 'woke up' separately. I was curious how that'd work anyway."
"Hey, congrats, you two," Briar says with a broad grin. "Good for you both. And thank you for the party. That's what Danny wanted. It makes me happy to think you guys partied for him." They sit up so they can hug Fizz and Rebel each in turn. "Thank you for bringing my book to my folks. You guys really are the best friends someone could ask for."
At the yawn, Briar grins a little. "You two go get some rest. We'll catch up again soon. And if my door is unlocked, come on in. Just knock first so I can throw on a towel if I'm naked."
"The plan was 'forever'," Fizz says, regarding the Lifeday parties, "The second one was in Cancun on the next frat summer trip, night before we all woke up here again." He can't help a grin again, broader, "Probably saved most of us one hell of a hangover, really." He returns the hug tightly, in no more hurry to get it over with than Scott ever was. "Least we could do," he murmurs, with what might be a hint of residual guilt in it, much as he's fought it.
The yawn makes him blink, and he has the nerve to look entirely indignant at having it blamed on him. "Hey, you would've fallen asleep at the same time no matter /what/ you were doing," he protests, "...but, now you're making a nap sound kind of good." The grin starts to sneak back at Briar's invitation. "What, I can't walk in on you naked for old time's sake?" he asks, "I knew there was a downside to being back here." He starts to slide his way off the bed and to his feet, adding, "You know you can knock on my door any time, right? I /might/ even throw on a towel for you if I'm naked."
The Rebel smiles at the mention of Cancun; it's clearly a pleasant memory, for all that it's postcard-like. "You're too right. I imagine I'd have been hungover for *week.*" She grins, and leans in to kiss Briar's forehead, if they'll have it of course. "You meant a lot to us. Still do. And... like he said. Least we could do." She nods to the invitation, and then outright laughs at Fizz's possible wearing of a towel. "Towels are for suckers," she informs them, and waggles her brows at the Bon-Vivant and Briar both, before the latter is offered one heck of a hug. She waves in an almost shy manner to them, and then playfully drags Fizz toward the door.