Bad Penny

rylie_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Rylie's Townhouse

When: May 20, 2012; evening

What: After a rough day, the answer is Chinese food and terrible movies.

Rylie's just gotten home, after she called Zan on the way to ask him to meet her. She's only been there long enough to dig out the vodka, but she's getting to things like vermouth and ice and a shaker, too. It isn't the best medicine after a car accident, but it's the perfect medicine for her. In her own opinion.

Her shoes've been kicked off here and there, and there's a note on the door for him to feel free to come in. Apparently the gates around her neighborhood make her eel safe enough.

Zan had only just gotten home from the mall when he'd gotten her call. The shower he'd been considering was traded for a quick change of clothes and a hasty scrub to clean up the new abrasions and cuts and left over dust from the explosion. Just a couple of minutes in and out again, with a passing hello and goodbye to his mom and he's out the door again to make the drive over to Rylie's.

Thankfully uneventful, the hour giving Sunday drivers reason to be off the road now. He finds parking and makes his way to the door. The note is peeled off and, though he knocks anyway, he also lets himself in, calling as he enters. "Rylie?"

"Kitchen!" Rylie calls out, but the sound of ice and liquor shaking against metal soon follows. Her head pops out, though, to glance his way. "Martini? I've had a terrible— " she pauses a moment, looking him over. "You look like you've had a bad day, too."

Her frown comes from concern this time, so much that she sets down her shaker to come out to the front room. She'll start over later. "What happened?" Someone hasn't been watching the news.

Brows pop upward a little as Zan pushes the door closed behind him. His keys are pushed into his pocket when he turns to look at Rylie. "Nah, I'm fine," he says, smiling to alleviate her concern. Though it doesn't mask his own. He starts toward her, head tilting slightly, hand offered to her. "You sounded… What happened, Rylie?"

Still, Rylie comes over for a closer look. Reassurances are all well and good, but she likes to see for herself. "You sure?" Her hands come to rest on his arms, one of them distinctly more cold than the other.

"Oh, well. My day. I hit some guy today. With my car. In the street. I was distracted for a second because— god, I don't even know what the hell happened, but I looked up and there he was. He's… you know, not too bad, but not good." Her hands go to her hips there, lips pressing together.

"I'm sure," Zan says with a nod. Except for some new bruises and old ones reminding him they're still around. And the cuts and scrapes that he barely attended to. And the how of his state can be talked over later.

A sympathetic wince is offered to the outcome of Rylie's day. Zan shakes his head slowly and and places his hands on her shoulders, gently. "That's definitely a bad day," he says. "But it's an accident. Might have still happened even if you hadn't been distracted."

"I've never hand anything like that happen before," Rylie says with a small shake of her head. "Boom, there he was. I could have killed him." Her hands come up to rub over her face for a moment, warding off incoming tears before they drop again.

"And my thing blipped out. Today." Her thing. That thing that she does. "So I thought I'd come home and have a drink and try to shake it all off."

"But you didn't," Zan says, still gently. "It was just a bad accident. No one's really at fault for it." His brows pull together, pinching into a crease near the center of their draw. When she rubs at her face, he steps closer and enfolds his arms around her shoulders. Just a careful hug, unsure of what else to offer. "I'll make you a drink. Did it… un-blip?"

Rylie leans into the hug, although instead of returning it, her arms end up between them, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. "I'm just a little of balance, is all. Life's been really weird lately."

There's a slight sniff before she leans back again, her expression a little embarrassed, but a small smile appearing all the same. "Thanks for coming over," is whispered to him before she steps back, to start for the kitchen. "Alcohol collection this way," she says as she grabs her shaker to pour out the extremely bruised vodka within. "I did unblip. A few minutes later. It was just really… uncomfortable."

"It's alright." Zan's tone remains mellow, understanding. Life has been weird recently. He holds her gently, arms tightening just a little at the sniffle then loosening again as she back. He smiles too, offering a one-shouldered shrug to her thanks. "Any time," he murmurs, arms falling back to his sides. He follows her into the kitchen. "That's good, that it un-blipped. That's… strange though."

After opening a cupboard with a variety of different glasses and one with a variety of different alcohol, Rylie hops up on her counter to sit. "Yeah, it was really weird. I didn't know it could do that. Maybe something's wrong, like I'm sick or something. I was thinking about asking your dad, but if something's wrong he's gonna freak out."

"Do you feel sick," Zan asks, looking up at Rylie. He takes the shaker from her and sets it aside in exchange for a glass. He takes over the mixing of a martini, watching her more than his mixing. "Why not ask around some of the others like us first," he suggests, "see if anyone else has had it happen before." The shaker is opened and poured into the glass.

"No, but you never know." Rylie tilts her head to the side, considering. "I suppose I could do that, see if anyone else has had a blip before. Before I go make the Mayor tell me to take a week off again." When he starts to pour, she glances down at the glass, watching. "And my poor car. Knocked the side mirror right off," she says, idly.

"Cosmetic damage." Zan offers a small smile and a nod toward the glass. "I'm sure you're fine, Rylie," he continues, though not without that tone of concern. He's not making light of the situation or her experiences, though trying to assuage her fears. "It's been a rough couple of weeks. Maybe the stress has something to do with it."

Her fingers lift the glass delicately as she takes a drink. At least it isn't a long drink. She must be mostly okay. "Sorry. I must seem so frazzled," she laughs a little, trying to shake it off without too much success. "You're probably right. Stress does weird things."

She pauses long enough for another drink before she looks over at him again. "Are you going to tell me how you came by your new cosmetic damage?" she asks with a crooked smile.

Zan smiles and shrugs. "You don't have anything to apologize for." He looks at the shaker, then peers inside before setting it on the counter next to the drink mixings. "I'm glad you called me over." He turns to lean against the edge of the counter beside her, somewhere between sitting and still standing.

He looks up when she asks after his condition again, grin turning almost sheepish. "I was at the new shopping center," he starts, raising a hand to rub lightly over the back of his head. "There was an explosion of some kind."

Her glass lifts up toward her lips again, but there's enough time to see a smile as he leans against the counter. She takes another drink, but there's little question of her being glad… that he's glad.

But the smile slips away when he explains, replaced by lifted eyebrows and surprise. "You were in an explosion. Are you sure you're okay? Christ, this eclipse is nuttier than the full moon."

"Little banged up," Zan answers, hands lifting in a what can you do gesture. "Things are sore all over again, and I probably look worse than I am. Just sort of rushed through cleaning up before coming over here." His hand comes away from his head and both tuck part way into his pockets. "It wasn't like fire and big boom," he goes on. "Like… air or something just slammed me and some others into the walls and then forced the walls to crumble in the same stroke."

"You take so much of this in stride," Rylie says with an indulgent shake of her head, "Must be the filmmaker in you. Somewhere, deep down, you're saving all this for a movie." The thought makes her grin, though, before she finishes off her drink and sets the glass aside.

Her legs fold up onto the counter and she turns to face him there. "Hmm. That's weird, but sort of intriguing. The explosion that wasn't. And hey, you don't look so bad. Just a little roughed up is all."

"Something like that," Zan answers with a small shrug. His grin loses some of its luster, though he looks downward to mask it. "Some of it goes into writing. Things I remember thinking or feeling or smelling." Things that could be used in directing a film one day. He's quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor before he finally manages another shrug.

"It was interesting," he admits, finally looking up at Rylie. He manages something of a grin again. More for how he looks. "Be honest," he says, a little bit of a tease in his tone. "I dodged the emergency workers once I got myself out of there."

Rylie tilts her head, her expression sympathetic even though he's looking downward. Her hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder, the alcohol making her 'resting' a little heavier than it should be. "That's a good idea, though. Writing it all down. Especially for someone who's going to need all that sort of research later."

When he looks up, her smile comes back, though. "I am being honest! It's a little Green Street Hooligans, but that's not necessarily a bad thing." There's a laugh as he goes on, and she shakes her head a little. "Of course you did."

Zan lifts a hand to cover Rylie's, expression easy away from troubled to more relaxed, easy. "There were others who were worse off than me. I'll write about it later, name the new bruises." He pauses, then asks with brows raising a little, "Is looking Green Street Hooligan a good thing?"

"Well. I'm glad you're okay," Rylie says with a gentle smile. She can only smirk at the question, though, at first, and takes a moment to slide off the counter. "It just means you lead an interesting life. And down back down very often. Which seems pretty accurate to me. Plus, Elijah Wood's in it, which hasn't been a bad thing since he stopped doing kid movies."

"Oh, you're comparing me to Elijah Wood," Zan ask, feigning horror. Possibly disgust. It's hard to tell what exactly, because he's trying not to laugh at the idea. "Now I'll have to go on a perilous journey, face insurmountable odds with an elf who never gets dirty, just to dispose of some trinket that should never've been made." He sighs, long suffering though wholly unserious.

"Sorry, but that's the hand that's been dealt to you. Some people get a stroll through the forest, some people get endlessly tormented by remnants of dark magic clinging to them for the rest of their lives." Rylie spreads her hands in a helpless gesture, shoulders lifting in a slow shrug. "What can you do. If it helps, I think I'll be the elf that never gets dirty."

"You'd still follow me into trouble," Zan points out with a grin. His hands push partially into his pockets again, causing his shoulders to shrug a little while he remains leaning against the edge of the counter. "Plus, the elf is bad ass. And pretty. That's just a recipe for awesome."

Chuckling a little at that point, Rylie concedes with a nod or two. "I guess I would. More fun that way, right?" She shifts to lean against the counter, too, and smirks as he goes on. "I'm not sure I can fit the badass part yet, but maybe one day. At least as the elf I wouldn't have to give up manicures."

"Well you channel awesome really well as it is," Zan says, musing. He leans over a little, lightly bumping his shoulder against hers. "So you must have bad ass in there." He looks over at her, smiling gently. "You feeling better? Want another drink or anything?"

"Well, thanks," Rylie says with a crooked smile as he leans against her. She leans a little back in his direction while her fingers tuck her hair behind an ear. "I am feeling better," she notes as she looks over at him, "I'm not sure more alcohol is a great idea right now. But do you want to stay? Movies, video games, whatnot. None of it gets enough attention."

"See? Awesome." Zan's smile grows just a touch, watching her. "Okay, no more alcohol," he agrees with a slight chuckle, "but I'm happy to stay. However long you want. Want me to order a pizza or Chinese something? We can get started on a video game until it shows up, then settle in for a movie. Or skip the games, just watch movies all night instead."

"Oo, Chinese. Let's get Chinese." Rylie reaches around him to grab a stack of delivery menus, but she has to turn and lean against the counter to sort through them for the Chinese. "Ooh, well. I can kick your butt at any game out there. So. If you want to leave here with ego in tact, might pick some movies," she says, teasing.

Zan pulls his hands free of his pockets and lifts them upward out of the way when Rylie goes for the menus, making himself less of an obstacle to work around. He lowers them again when she turns around, head tilting to look at the collection, one hand coming to rest lightly on her back. "That sounds like a challenge," he says joking, self-deprecatingly, as he makes a grab for one of the flyers.

"A warning! And maybe a little challenge." Rylie chuckles before she nods to where the phone sits. Slipping out of the kitchen, she goes out to the living room to flop onto the couch. "Of course, if I lose, it's because of the vodka," she says, covering her tracks early. Just in case!

"Maybe you should be picking out movies instead," Zan calls after her. He grins after her then turns for the phone to place an order. What Rylie might like is guessed at, he hadn't asked but it's hard to go wrong with Chinese food. After a couple of minutes he hangs up the phone and finds his way to the living room, joining Rylie on the couch. "I wouldn't feel right if I beat you because of Vodka."

When he sits down, too, Rylie looks over his way. "Alright, but only because I'd hate to discourage a display of chivalry now and then." She gets up, movements a bit slow from the drink, but she's not so bad off, really. She opens up a closets back behind the couch which reveals a rather extensive movie collection. It also proves her taste in video games runs toward the old school. Nothing like an X-Box or a Playstation to be found, but rather some systems that are probably considered collectors items by now.

"What kind of movies do you like? I spent my entire college run avoiding homework and buying movies instead, so there's a library. I keep thinking I should keep a catalogue for it." Even without the catalogue, she seems to have them alphabetized within genres. Secretary OCD.

Zan turns his head to look at the selection, practically double-taking at the enormity of it. He turns more fully for a better look. While he's more interested in the films, he can't help but appreciate the older console systems as well. "And you deny your awesomeness," he chides gently. It's a moment or two before he's back to scanning the movie titles, though every now and then his gaze flicks toward her as well. "Honestly, I'll watch anything once. I went through a B-movie phase when I started high school. I really like thrillers, and the old sci-fi flicks."

"Well, I like to think of myself as delightfully quirky." Rylie doesn't turn around, so she misses his reaction to the display, but chances are, she's too used to it to think it strange anymore. "Sometimes you need a good terrible movie," she says, standing up on the balls of her feet to grab something off the appropriate shelf. "B-movie sci-fi," he says, spinning the case between her hands. She only comes back over to sit once it's ready to play and she's scooped up the remote.

She hands it his way as she settles with her back leaning against his arm. It'll mean some shifting about when the food arrives, but for now, it's comfortable.


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