Ellen had found herself underneath a table when she'd woken up, freezing and cursing a blue streak. Thankfully, she'd tracked down Roger soon after reminding her muscles how to move, so she'd also found a leather jacket (one of the benefits of being an early riser) and a fluffy red scarf. The party had been fun; bartenders optional, since it was mostly plastic and handles anyway. She'd warmed her hands by the fire, watching the young things shimmy around, laughing, singing, dancing. Some of these girls were Jo's age, and her heart ached a little, wondering where their parents were, where their homes were. But this wasn't the time or place for that.
She headed out toward the fire escape, instead taking a detour to flop herself on the windowsill with Roger, back against the opposite ledge. "Hey, you."
With a pleasant buzz and more than a little bit of weed in his system, Roger was considerably more subdued than he had been. The smile on his face stayed, though, and the general good feelings made it easy enough to ignore the fact that Mark hadn't come along for the ride. Sure, he was running around the party, but it wasn't the Mark that Roger had held and... well, this Mark didn't know that Roger loved him. So, that was... crappy.
"Hey, Ellen," Roger said quaintly, taking another drag on his cigarette. He nodded toward the pack sitting between them in offering. "How you liking my home?"
She shook her head, doing her best to avoid it. She had smoked way, way back-- when she was his age, or younger, and times like this made her wish for the butt between her fingers, but... Not really. She knew that the first drag would actually taste like crap, her mouth would feel like an ashtray for the next few hours, and she'd get dizzy as hell. Not worth it.
"Love it, kid." She shook her head, smiling crookedly. "Am I an old hag if I tell you I'm glad you've got the island, with doctors and heat and real food?" Him staying here would be a nightmare; between the drugs and booze and bonfire in a barrel, his disease would eat him alive. No, thanks.
Dean had spent most of the party in a daze, wandering a world he might have passed through a decade ago, younger even than Roger had been on the island and destined never to meet.
He was overwhelmed, homesick for the island and for the world back home both in a way he really shouldn't have been, surrounded by this much booze, but the fact remained that Dean's hands were itching for a cell phone.
Trouble was, either nobody had one, or they didn't have one and called him something nasty besides. Dean sighed and raised his voice one last time.
"Hey, has anybody got a phone? I need to call my brother."
Dean's (millionth) request for a phone was met by the same jeers it had been each time before, only with a slightly more profound drunken swagger to it. Roger responded by laughing, but that was only for show. He headed over to Dean and licked his lips.
"Dean, we have a phone," he said, nodding to the ancient one that sat next to the answering machine. "But it's 1989. Sam's... what? Six?" He clasped his shoulder carefully. "You can try the phone if you want but..." He trailed off, his point made and as delicately as he could.
That made sense, sure it did, but sense wasn't what Dean was looking for. He sighed and passed a hand over his eyes.
"I can't even remember where we were in '89," he muttered. "Why can't I freakin' remember? I could warn him, at least, about what's coming down the road."
Cracking an eye, he had the decency to look embarassed. "Sorry, man. You probably want to show me around your digs, huh? Not listen to me grouse."
"Because you lived like nomadic tribesmen," Roger offered, his way of sympathizing as he nodded another person to the liquor table. "Do what you want, I'm not gonna stop you, but how do you think John's gonna take it if you call him up, tell him who you are and how you got there, and he doesn't remember?" He nodded to Mark. "I mean, lookit Mark. He looks the same as he did on the island, but he's not." A shadow of sadness passed over Roger's eyes, but it was gone in a moment.
"Naw, dude, you're kinda seein' all of it right now. I just sent Rosy to get you a drink."
Bill had woken up completely sodding freezing, and his first thought was that it wasn't December yet until he opened his eyes and saw he was lying on some sort of fire escape sort of thing in an entirely unfamiliar city. Once he was inside and saw who else was there, though, it didn't take too long to figure out where they were. And as odd as it was to think about how he was lying in a coma back on the island, he was glad for the opportunity to see Roger's home.
The party was brilliant and Bill mingled easily, talking to both people he knew and people he didn't and availing himself unhesitatingly of the alcohol around. He couldn't help but wonder as he mingled whether he'd see Mimi.
Prior had been surprised enough to wake up freezing and alone when he'd gone to sleep warm in Mark's bed. But the rest of this was even stranger - especially when he realized that the Mark here wasn't his Mark, and had absolutely no idea who he was.
He definitely knew who Maureen was, though, and it wasn't long before the two of them were looking pretty cozy. Which didn't make him feel any better about his suspicions that his roommate was pining after his boyfriend - well, as close as Maureen could get to "pining" anyway.
The free flowing alcohol wasn't exactly helping either, especially since every time Maureen flitted around the party and ended up back at him, she seemed to offer him another drink and suggest he go talk to Roger, who, according to her, looked lonely.
It wasn't until after Prior found himself pointlessly flirting with a random party guest that he didn't find all that attractive, and after he looked over and saw Maureen sucking face with Not Mark in the corner, did he finally take the advice. He went out over to
( ... )
Comments 10
She headed out toward the fire escape, instead taking a detour to flop herself on the windowsill with Roger, back against the opposite ledge. "Hey, you."
Reply
"Hey, Ellen," Roger said quaintly, taking another drag on his cigarette. He nodded toward the pack sitting between them in offering. "How you liking my home?"
Reply
"Love it, kid." She shook her head, smiling crookedly. "Am I an old hag if I tell you I'm glad you've got the island, with doctors and heat and real food?" Him staying here would be a nightmare; between the drugs and booze and bonfire in a barrel, his disease would eat him alive. No, thanks.
Reply
He was overwhelmed, homesick for the island and for the world back home both in a way he really shouldn't have been, surrounded by this much booze, but the fact remained that Dean's hands were itching for a cell phone.
Trouble was, either nobody had one, or they didn't have one and called him something nasty besides. Dean sighed and raised his voice one last time.
"Hey, has anybody got a phone? I need to call my brother."
Reply
"Dean, we have a phone," he said, nodding to the ancient one that sat next to the answering machine. "But it's 1989. Sam's... what? Six?" He clasped his shoulder carefully. "You can try the phone if you want but..." He trailed off, his point made and as delicately as he could.
Reply
"I can't even remember where we were in '89," he muttered. "Why can't I freakin' remember? I could warn him, at least, about what's coming down the road."
Cracking an eye, he had the decency to look embarassed. "Sorry, man. You probably want to show me around your digs, huh? Not listen to me grouse."
Reply
"Naw, dude, you're kinda seein' all of it right now. I just sent Rosy to get you a drink."
Reply
The party was brilliant and Bill mingled easily, talking to both people he knew and people he didn't and availing himself unhesitatingly of the alcohol around. He couldn't help but wonder as he mingled whether he'd see Mimi.
Reply
He definitely knew who Maureen was, though, and it wasn't long before the two of them were looking pretty cozy. Which didn't make him feel any better about his suspicions that his roommate was pining after his boyfriend - well, as close as Maureen could get to "pining" anyway.
The free flowing alcohol wasn't exactly helping either, especially since every time Maureen flitted around the party and ended up back at him, she seemed to offer him another drink and suggest he go talk to Roger, who, according to her, looked lonely.
It wasn't until after Prior found himself pointlessly flirting with a random party guest that he didn't find all that attractive, and after he looked over and saw Maureen sucking face with Not Mark in the corner, did he finally take the advice. He went out over to ( ... )
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