2007-03-16: Amazing Flying Petrelli


Mara_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif

Summary: Drunken hilarity ensues. With a brief attempt at seriousness. But mostly drunken hilarity.

Date It Happened: March 16, 2007

Amazing Flying Petrelli

Fly By Night Cocktail Bar, Mara's Apartment

In the midst of a social setting, Nathan sits at the bar with his drink as his company. It's the drink this place was named for - perhaps not the drink of champions, but it would do. He talks quietly to the bartender, an idle conversation, voice underneath the music and barely audible while he's pretended to be listened to, before the employee is pulled away to serve someone else. Fine. Pushing the sleeve of his shirt back to observe the time, Nathan takes a long sip of the rum mix, and goes back to people watching.

The woman the bartender extracts himself from conversation with Nathan to serve is on her third whiskey and cherry cola of the night. Mara's beginning to show that the drink it getting to her, but he serves her all the same. Long, pale fingers rake through dark hair as the woman stares down at her cocktail napkin, watching as the empty glass is lifted from it and the fresh is put in its place.

Smoothly, Nathan tilts his head back to slide the last of the cocktail down, leaving only fragments of ice to collect at the bottom of the glass. He tilts it disdainfully, and seems to come to a decision. There are certain privileges to take advantage of when one hits the landmark of 40 years of age, and one is such that one can drink whatever the hell they want to, wherever, and that includes a Jack Daniels in a fancy cocktail bar. Nathan asks for such and smiles blandly at the bartender as he does so, passing over the necessary cash for the drink before taking a sip. So much better. He glances down the length of the bar, and glances again. A graveled chuckle full of irony is his reaction, before he takes another sip of the whiskey, standing up, and moving down the few seats to sit beside the detective. "So I guess the question of 'do you come here often' is obvious."

Oh so slowly, Mara's head lifts and turns so she can fix her attention on the man beside her. She looks at her whiskey, swirling it for a moment and just listening to the ice clink against the glass. She takes a long drink and then peers at Nathan again, as though she thought he might not be there if she just had more to drink. Like maybe she's seeing things. "No' of'en. Jus'… Okay, well, /now/ I s'pose I plan ta come 'ere of'en. Bu' /before/, I didn'."

Oh boy. At the clear slurring - or is that just the accent, and really, does it matter - in her voice, Nathan gives her a careful squint, as if trying to gauge out how many drinks it takes to get where she is. Because it seems like a nice, blurry place to be. "Well it's a nice place," he says, conversationally, lifting his drink by way of gesture. "No reason not to come here often. I used to come here all the time."

"Well see? There ya go." Mara waves one arm a bit more widely than she probably intended in a sort of dismissive gesture. She lifts her glass to her lips again for another drink and smiles with satisfaction. "I swear to God tha' they wa'er down the Jack a' DNA. Bu' 'ere? /God/, it's good!" She holds up one finger and smirks. "I'm behaving poorly," she actually attempts to clean up her speech a bit now, "Please forgive me, Mister Petrelli."

"Cheers to that," Nathan agrees, taking that moment to sip his very much unwatered down whiskey. At her next comment, he just shakes his head. "You're doing fine. Though you may wanna slow down a bit." This is said with some reserve, because really, who wants to end a good thing. He swirls his own drink as he continues with, "So, are we drinking in celebration tonight or…?"

"I don't know what /you're/ drinking for," Mara says softly, "but I'm drinking because I'm alive and because I /can/. I came home and didn't find a serial killer in my apartment. Good enough reason to go celebrate."

Nathan blinks a few times at that, before nodding once and moving his glass over to clink against hers. "Well done," he says, sardonic, before sliding back another mouthful of whiskey. "I didn't come home to a serial killer either, so I guess I got reason too. Although." He holds up a finger, the rest of them gripping his glass. "I did come home to something far more frightening."

Mara's eyes get wide and she's almost afraid to ask. Please say your wife didn't leave you. Oh Lord almighty. "What's that, Mister Petrelli?" She leans in, giving Nathan her undivided attention.

Nathan takes another generous sip of whiskey, looking altogether very troubled. "My brother. He's got himself a girlfriend. She throws lightning at people." He gives Mara a look that communicates 'no really, she does, trufax'. "And, well, they happen to be staying at my house, and the guest room is far… /far/ too close to mine for comfort. That can't be kosher."

"Oh, good God. Do they…" Mara makes a little gesture that involves rocking her hips back and forth suggestively. "That's just- I don't think I could- I mean, I don't have a brother, but I did live at home for quite some time and I couldn't possibly begin to bring myself to even think about shagging with family in the house. Let alone the next room. It's… It's disrespectful, ain't it?"

And look, like magic, the whiskey is gone. Nathan pushes his glass forward and giving the bartender a meaningful glance, gaze only back to Mara when he's sure his glass is being refilled. "I mean. Our mother lives in the same building. There's a line at which… I mean, you just don't cross that line." A slight wall is being built via Jack Daniels between what Nathan wants to articulate and what is actually being articulated, but he gets his point across. He adds, as an afterthought, "She's cute, though. The girl."

"They usually are, aren't they?" Mara frowns and sips at her own drink again. "Lightning, huh?" She shakes her head and downs the last of her glass, setting it out for a refill. You know, while the bartender's got the Jack out. "Kinky."

"Nn." Nathan sets out a little more cash to compensate for Mara's drink, nodding his approval at the bartender when the glass is then filled. "I didn't really go there with that, but, thank you." Good thing he has a renewed drink, and he partakes. He has some catching up to do, after all.

Mara nods slowly. "It's… an ability. Some people can alter or take memories. That's the theory, anyway." She takes another sip of her drink and presses her lips together. "This… probably isn't the best venue for this conversation. Nathan… If she's forgotten you… Forgotten what happened… That may be the best way to leave her. You and I both know we're stuck in this crazy situation whether we like or not. If this is her chance for an out… maybe you should let her have it?" She's trying to be gentle, really.

Nathan smiles grimly at that. "I know. Trust me, it's been considered. I should probably let her be. She doesn't need to deal with all of this." He looks at his empty glass, contemplatively, before smiling charmingly at the bartender and tilting it towards him. "Not that I'm sure what all of this is," he adds, as an aside.

"I wish I had an answer for you on that matter." Mara stares down at her half-empty drink contemplatively. "I have a fairly good idea of the trouble I'm in on one front… But the Company?" Such an innocuous name for something so very ominous. "I don't even know where to begin…" Hazel eyes slide up to fix on Nathan's. "Did they hurt you?"

Nathan wrinkles his nose, almost, watching the new round of Jack gets poured in his glass. "No," he says. "They held me there for a couple of days, maybe less, before letting me go. Barely a slap on the wrist." Bitterness is obvious in his voice as he just keeps looking at his drink. "I know nothing of them. I'm no threat to them." He looks at her, his gaze hard. "What do /you/ know about them?"

"Not enough, I'm afraid. I know they're a terribly secretive and foreboding bunch." Mara shrugs her shoulders. "I know I want to know more, and yet figure the less I know, the better." She sighs and brings her glass to her lips one more to tip her head back and smoothly empty the contents.

"Probably a good rule," Nathan says wryly, glancing at her empty glass. "A crossroads. I personally think you've had enough," he says, lifting his own newly full glass to partake from. There's almost a smile there.

Mara looks almost stunned for a moment before a wide, gap-toothed smile breaks out across her face. "Very funny." She sets her glass out, waiting for her refill. "You almost had me going there."

Nathan does actually smile at this moment, a completely genuine one that reaches his eyes and everything. "Good choice, Detective Damaris," he says with much approval, taking a long sip from his drink, and he breathes out a sigh. "How many have you had, anyway. That must be some serial killer you're celebrating not meeting."

The smile disappears immediately as Mara mutters, "Four. I think. Not enough." She shakes her head quickly, turning her gaze to the floor. "Surely you've heard of him. He… He kills people like us."

There is a long pause, and Nathan glances at Mara, the almost smile now completely faded. "Kills people like us," he repeats, watching her, before turning away to look at his drink. Abruptly, he looks like he wants to laugh. That could just be the booze. It probably is. "Kills people like us, to steal our powers?"

"Sssshhhhh." Mara puts one finger to her lips as her eyes snap up with a severe expression. "Yes, that's what he does. That is /exactly/ what he does."

Nathan has the decency to look abashed that he spoke that aloud in such a public venue, and nods once, forcing his expression back to one of seriousness. "He was at my home just a few days ago," he says, quietly. "He was after my daughter. Scared the fuck out my mother." And, in an even quieter voice, he says, to confirm, "Sylar?"

"/Don't/ say that name!" Mara snaps in a harsh whisper. She looks part furious and part terrified. "His name is Gray." The woman takes her glass and starts drinking like she's trying to impress friends at a frat party. "My place or yours? We need to get out of here before somebody says the wrong thing and somebody else overhears. And I think this is a conversation worth having."

"Not my place." Brothers having sex with psychopuppies that throw lightning. There is a reason Nathan is at this bar right now. He promptly finishes his drink, and moves to stand up. It's slightly unsteady. "That's fine with me. After you." The bartender now gives them a look, perhaps overhearing a few keywords, and Nathan just makes the 'a-ok' sign at him, and gets a nod of acknowledgment in return.

"My place, then? Excellent. You can hit Gray over the head with a vase if he decides to pay a visit. It'll give me time to draw my gun and shoot him." Mara shakes the last drops of liquor from her glass onto her tongue before she slides off her seat and wobbles once before she's figured out that yes, she has reached the floor and no, it isn't moving. With careful, deliberate steps, she heads out of the bar.

"Okay." Really, Nathan has no idea as to what he's okaying, but he's at least following Mara out of the bar, a hand moving to her arm to help her not fall over as they maneuver through the crowd of trendy 20 somethings. Outside, the sudden shock of cool air is refreshing, and Nathan closes his eyes for just a moment. Then, he looks at Mara. "So. Where 'bouts is it?" He has a hint of a smile, the kind one gets when they think they have an awesome idea.

Mara accepts Nathan's arm gratefully. Hopefully he looks more like a gentleman and she looks less like a drunk. When they reach the street, Mara's reaction is much the same as his. She stops and just closes her eyes, breathing in the night air. Only when he asks his question does she opens her eyes again, "West Midtown. Got myself a flat above a record shop."

"West midtown," Nathan repeats, and glances up at the night sky. He starts walking, and because he has Mara's arm, she starts walking too, inevitably. "I really like living in New York. Do you find it's easy to get around? One of the most dangerous places in the world but really, hard to get lost in a city of squares. Want to take the quick way home? Trust me, my way, we'll get there in a flash."

Mara strolls along with Nathan at a sedate pace, listening to him babble on about how easy it is to get around New York. When he suggests 'his way,' she gives him a strange look and a smiles. "What? You gonna whip out a mobile and call a private car or something?"

"I could," Nathan agrees with a half-smile. "It'd be a nice car." He veers around a corner, and it's completely not a street corner. It's the kind of corner that leads into an alley way, the dodgy kind that might contain a homeless person or a mugger, but for now, seems to be empty apart from he and Detective Damaris. "I didn't mean that way, though. And also, I never do this. Not in the city. But I can go so fast it won't even matter." Nathan blinks once, twice, and totally realises how that sounds, so fixes that by clarifying: "Flying, I mean."

The dark haired woman chuckles quietly when Nathan assures her that any car he would call would be a nice one, and she doesn't hesitate when he leads her into the alleyway, though she probably should. Mara leans back and peers at the politician with surprise when he clarifies. "Flying? You… You want to /fly/ to my apartment?"

Nathan looks almost self-conscious, if such a consciousness is even possibly on him. He shrugs once. "It'd take at most two minutes," he says, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. "And, well. You showed me yours, I can show you mine. Hopefully this will be less unpleasant for you than it was for me."

"You want to /fly/ to my apartment?" Mara repeats, dumbfounded. Finally, she smiles a slow grin. "All right. I'm not afraid of heights. Show me the city from the perspective of the Amazing Flying Petrelli."

"Good." Nathan seems satisfied when she warms to the idea, then contemplates the logistics of this. He's no West, after all, and Mara is no Claire, but let's not mention that bit. "Reckon you can hold on without strangling me?" he asks, with an arched eyebrow.

"Strangling's not your thing?" Mara quips as she releases Nathan's arm. "Yeah, I reckon I can manage." But now… the managing. Damaris presses her lips together in a thin line before tentatively reaching up to then wrap her arms around behind Nathan's neck. This is far more intimate than it should be. This is far more intimate than /she/ should be with a man whose divorce she predicted.

Seriously. This really only occurs to Nathan as Mara gets into position, but he manages, at the very least, /not/ to give her an awkward smile. Instead, he securely and seriously puts an arm around her waist, moving to put the other arm under her knees, picking her up smoothly. It's not a romantic hold, exactly, but one that's steady. "You won't fall," is his only reassurance, before, with a slight bend of his knees, there is a sudden, violent rush of gravity and air, and Mara and Nathan find themselves somewhere in the sky, and hovering. Likely for Mara's benefit. It's pretty up there.

Mara gasps and wraps her arms around Nathan tighter when they shoot up into the sky. Once they're merely hovering, she turns her head to look, almost surprised that they're /actually/ above the city. This draws another gasp, this one astonished rather than frightened. "Oh my God." She looks around slowly, taking it all in. "Oh… /Wow/."

"Yeah," Nathan agrees, looking down at New York City from this vantage point. He sounds distracted, as if staying in this position and /not/ plummeting to the ground is taking up a reasonable amount of concentration. "I hope you like going fast, Detective." That's really all the warning she gets until the world is turned into a very cold, very windy, very video game-esque experience as they suddenly go rocketing through the sky. Not exactly enough to cause a sonic boom, but damn… they go fast.

The sudden burst of speed catches Mara off guard, the warning not sinking into her alcohol-addled brain before they really take off. She shrieks and clings tightly to Nathan as they fly over the city.

Nathan wasn't exaggerating when he said it wouldn't take very long. Probably even less than two minutes later, Mara and Nathan find themselves landing in the correct district, very suddenly on solid ground, enough that Nathan stumbles. But he was telling the truth, when he said he wouldn't let her fall, even upon landing. Carefully, he sets her back down onto the pavement, both of them likely very windswept. "There."

Mara keeps her arms wrapped around Nathan in a vice grip even after he sets her down on solid ground. Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly and the way her body's crushed against his, he can feel her heart pounding in her chest. She taps the heel of one boot on the pavement several times before daring to open one eye and look around to confirm that they really are on the ground.

"You can let go now," Nathan says, encouragingly, one hand moving to coax her arm from around his shoulders and neck. He sort of has to grin - this is really the first time he's taken someone flying, and seeing her abstract terror is kind of amusing, in an odd way. "You get used to it, detective. Are we far from your place?"

Mara's grip loosens when Nathan touches her arm. Both eyes open now, wide and bewildered. "That was- Gosh. That was the most bloody amazing experience ever!" She steps back and smiles. "Oh, you're going to have to do that again sometime, because I think I'm already addicted." She runs her fingers through her messed up hair, trying to make it acceptable. Are they anywhere near her place? She looks around slowly, getting her bearings. "I'm just a block or two from here… I think."

Nathan's amused grin flickers into more of a genuine smile at her comments on flying, but it's quickly set to the side, him giving a sort of shrug in response as he runs a hand through his hair, which really needs a cut if he's gonna be zooming around at however many miles an hour. "Pretty good guess, then. Lead the way," he says with a nod.

Mara claims Nathan's arm again, lest she stumble down the street. She leads him through Midtown, past Club DNA and to the record shop below her flat. She reaches into her pocket and fishes out a set of keys before heading into the alleyway behind the building and to an iron staircase. "Be it ever so /very/ humble," she murmurs as she starts to climb.

Oh, my, stairs. This is the bit where Nathan tries to act even more sober than he acted while flying. One can fake sobriety with near-sonicspeed flying, but stairs are a whole other realm of difficulty. Keeping an eye on Mara so that she doesn't go tumbling, Nathan grips the railing of the stairs as he follows her up. "I won't judge you on it," he says dryly. "Just tell me you got a bottle of something up there."

"Oh, I've got several bottles of something," Mara assures as she reaches the top of the steps and fumbles with the keys. They make a metallic rattling sound when they hit the iron doorstep, causing the woman to curse as she bends over to pick them up. "Christ. At least I didn't drop them over the side. Somehow." The second attempt to get the key in the lock works in her favour and she swings the door open, reaching inside to flick the lights on before she even thinks about stepping in. "Gabriel? You aren't in here, are you? I'm really not in the mood to kill you right now…" Once satisfied that Sylar isn't sitting on her couch, Mara steps inside and motions for Nathan to do the same.

Nathan just sort of watches Mara's antics and her obviously regulation police protocol in ensuring her home is safe, before following her inside. He shoulders off his jacket and drapes it over whatever is closest. "Not to give you the impression that I'm slow on the uptake," he says, finding a place to sit down. "But who's Gabriel?"

The door is locked behind Nathan with an audible click. "Gray. Gabriel Gray," Mara clarifies as she flops down on the couch long enough to unzip her boots and toss them back over toward the door. Then she rises not-so-terribly-smoothly to her feet to scurry off to the kitchen and throw open two different cupboards to reveal her stash. "More Jack? Or something else?" She grabs two tall glasses from another cupboard and sets them down on the counter, waiting for the order.

"Jack is fine," Nathan says with a slow nod. He gets himself nestled into the corner of the couch, and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch, eyes shut for a few moments and listening to the sound of alcohol being poured for him, before the penny drops. "Gray. Right. Your murder case. This is the same man I mentioned back at the bar?" he asks, now looking at her, squinting.

Mara peers over her shoulder at Nathan and nods. "That'd be the guy. I don't say the S-word. It's what he wants. And I don't ever intend to give him what he wants." Carefully, she makes her way back to the living room where she hands one glass of Jack Daniel's to Nathan and sits down with hers, mixed with Cherry Pepsi. "He's the one who fucked up my face. I think I told you that the other night?"

Nathan takes the drink with a grateful nod, though doesn't immediately start on it. "Correct. I didn't realise who you meant, I only know know him by-" Squint. "-the S word. Hiro told me about him." Now, he takes a sip, the current subject motivating the compulsion to do so. "I probably can't tell you much of anything useful, I only have a second-hand recount of what happened, when he decided to drop by my place."

"Why does he want your daughter?" Doesn't Nathan only have sons? No matter. "She has an ability like we do?" Mara sips at her drink, giving Nathan her full attention. This is important. Totally important. So important, she won't /even/ takes notes about it. You know, just in case someone were to find them.

Nathan now looks somewhat guarded, but… in the end. What can this information do. "I don't know, exactly, /why/ he wants what she can do…" he says, trailing off, reluctance plain. "But, yes, she has power. She can regenerate. Unkillable. Her blood…" He smiles, and it's sort of a sad smile. "When the explosion went off that night, I got injured, as you can imagine. She's the only reason I look like I don't have a scratch on me from it."

"Oh no… Oh." Mara goes very pale and sets her drink against her knee as her shoulders sag. "Her blood. Oh Jesus Christ, it's your /daughter/?" The detective climbs to her feet and paces as she tries to digest what she's just been told.

Nathan now watches her with a hawk-like gaze, as if trying to work out exactly all that reaction entails. "My… yes." Okay, awkward explanation time. "Biologically, anyway, she wasn't raised by me. Very long story. But she was at my home for a time, I thought it'd be safe there. Safe from the Company. But I guess not safe from Gray." Head tilt. "Why, /what's/ my daughter, exactly?"

"He was… Talking about her. Said he was going to find her. But he wouldn't tell me who 'she' was…" Mara closes her eyes and takes another long drink. "She's okay, though? Tell me he- Please tell me he didn't get what he wanted."

Nathan shakes his head once. "No, he didn't. She's safe with— with her dad." Knocking back a little more whiskey, Nathan continues to say, "Peter apparently got there in time, and then his… the girl that was with him sort of. Threw Gray out the window, apparently. With lightning," he adds. He seems stuck on this part, in general, when it comes to Elle.

Mara's eyes snap open and fix on Nathan. "Did he get away, then?" Oh, please tell me someone just buried him in the backyard. Her knuckles turn white, clenched around her glass.

Nathan glances from Mara's face to the grip on her drink, then nods once. "No corpses in any closet I saw, no sudden trenches in the lawn. As far as I know, yeah, he got away." A strained smile, and his carries his drink to hers with a very lame sounding 'clink'. "Drink up," is his advice, before he follows it.

Mara sits down heavily on the couch again and drinks. And drinks. "He is the scariest motherfucker I have ever dealt with. I've had murdering bastards threaten to kill me before, but-" She shakes her head. No. Not talking about this. Not admitting defeat. "I'm stronger than he is, though. And he doesn't have his abilities. And… And now I /guess/ I see the future. Possibly." He's not so tough. Lie of the century.

"Possibly," Nathan repeats blandly, with a sardonic smile directed at no one in particular. His wedding ring gets a glance, as if he's been attempting to ignore the band of gold since just last night. He absently slips it off, even as he keeps the subject on course. "So he's messing with you, now? Shouldn't you be out of town if he's that dangerous?"

"What good's it going to do? He tracks people down across the country. Here, I've got the force at my back." Mara suddenly looks sick. "The force. Oh no."

"The force, oh no?" Nathan asks, raising an eyebrow. The ring disappears into his pocket in a rather smooth move, and there, he no longer has to think about it. "What's the oh no now?"

"I think I've got a few plainclothes staking my place out," Mara says numbly. She shrinks back, clearly afraid of retaliation.

Oh /shit/, is really the only way to describe Nathan's expression. The rest of his Jacks is gone in a flash, and he sets the glass down to rub his face with his hands. "Well it's a good thing I didn't damn well land in front of your apartment by accident," he says, voice muffled.

Mara's drink is similarly knocked back in one fell swoop. She looks down at the floor. "I… I'm sure they've got enough tact to keep their mouths shut. Really. They might not even be out there at this hour." Wishful thinking. But stranger things have happened. "Fuck me," she mutters into her hand as she mimics Nathan's gesture.

"Mph." Nathan rests his chin in his hands as he ponders this dilemma. The empty glass gets the focus of his staring as he thinks about the possibly repercussions of this. "Well. It's the police force," is his conclusion. "Not the damn paparazzi." Which have been a bit of a hassle lately. He glances at her. "Got any Gordon's?"

Mara takes Nathan's glass without a word and stumbles back off to the kitchen where she pours him a rather liberal amount of gin and tops of her whiskey before turning around to make the precarious trek back to the couch.

Nathan nods his approval, reaching out for the gin. "You know only twelve people in the world know the recipe for this brand?" he says, as he takes the glass and observes its contents. "My wife thinks it tastes like poison."

Mara opens her mouth to say that his wife has no taste, but she thinks better of it. "It's good shit," she confirms. "When I'm in the mood for it." Which would explain why the bottle is mostly full, really. "Why'd you take it off?"

Nathan glances at Mara, wondering whether he can play idiot with that question, but really, he knows better, on occasion. Glancing at his right hand, he shrugs once. "I keep wondering how it's going to happen. And trying not to ask exactly what you saw."

"Generally, if one's trying to avoid divorce, he should wear his wedding ring." Mara doesn't mean to preach, but… you know. "But I understand." Her gaze turns sympathetic as she studies Nathan's face. "She'd be a fool to leave you."

Nathan makes no move to rectify the ring situation, just runs that hand through his hair and takes a long sip of gin, wincing just a little at the sharp taste of it. That last comment gets a quick, but still studious glance, and he gives a very slight chuckle, taking another drink of gin. "Well you don't know me, detective, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"You're going to have to stop calling me detective," Mara says gently. "I'm going to have to insist. It has to be Mara or nothing." She smiles faintly and takes another drink.

"Mara," Nathan repeats, accepting this correction. He smoothly downs the rest of the gin, and lets out a breath, setting the glass down. "And it's Nathan or nothing, then. 'Mr. Petrelli' has lost its appeal since I've been out of work. Now it just sounds… old." There is a slight slur in his voice he can't completely cover up, and that last shot of gin really couldn't have helped. "Jesus. Reckon there's laws 'bout flying while drunk?"

"I think they arrest pilots for that, Nathan," Mara responds sagely, standing up to make her way slowly toward the kitchen again where she finishes off her glass and leaves it on the counter. When she returns, it's with the bottle of gin. "But then again, they're operating machinery and endangering the lives of others… You just don't have the machinery. I don't know. I would think it's probably a bad.. idea." She sinks down into the couch again and takes a drink straight from the bottle before passing it to Nathan.

There is no question to what he does now. Nathan just takes the bottle and indulges in a swig. He shudders, bodily, before passing it back. "I think I should sty far, far away from any heavy machinery," he agrees. "I just, you know. Imagine that I'd probably wake up in Nevada somewhere if I were to attempt it right now. You know, I can break the sound barrier." He sounds oddly proud about this.

Mara tips forward and starts laughing. "That's awesome. It's not what's funny, it's totally awesome. Really. But speaking of Nevada…" The woman pauses for a breath, chuckling renewed. "When I met Nakamura? I said we should talk at a Starbucks, rather than at the station. Next thing I know, we're in fucking /Nevada/. I just about had a heart attack. But, you know, looking back, it was kind of funny."

Nathan watches her, perhaps with a slightly blurry form of double-vision, as she tells her story, looking entirely put out that she was not quite impressed with the news of sound-breaking as he was going for. He gets over it enough to ask, "Well, at the very least, was it Vegas?"

"You know.. I don't even know. I was a little too freaked out to ask. I just looked at the license plates." Mara tips her head to one side and peers at Nathan sidelong, making grabbyhands for the bottle again. "You can really break the sound barrier?"

There we go. Nathan smiles and rewards her by handing over the bottle. "I can. Doubtful it would be very good for me to try that with a passenger. I don't know, though, I don't feel much of anything when I'm up there."

Mara takes a loooooong drink from the bottle. When she comes up for air, she actually doubles over coughing. "I forget how strong that stuff is." She thrusts the bottle back at Nathan so she can cover her mouth and cough again.

Nathan takes a generous pull from the bottle, simultaneously clapping Mara once, twice on the back as she chokes. Once he comes up for air, he shudders again, offering the gin, and says, "Okay maybe it tastes a little like poison," and his voice is even rawer from the drinking. "Dunno about you, I probably wouldn't have it any other way."

"Damn straight." Mara brings the bottle to her lips for another drink. "You're a lot of fun," she says with a grin. "We should totally try that sound barrier thing. Totally. It'd be awesome. I might even keep my eyes open this time."

"Fun," Nathan repeats, and this gets a burst of laughter from him, and suddenly, it's as if the whole ridiculousness of this situation through to his life as it currently is, is hitting him all at once, and soon what was a chuckle turns into something akin to nervous-breakdown-gin-fueled laughing, leaning his weight against the arm of the couch. "God. What the hell."

Mara takes another swig from the bottle before she leans over to pass it back. "'Ave another drink. I insis'." She rubs Nathan's back in an attempt to be reassuring.

It takes a little while, but eventually, the nervous-breakdown subsides, and Nathan silently takes the bottle and another gulp of the booze. He manages to get a "Thanks" out before the customary gin-shudder takes over, and he shakes his head, handing it back. "I think I stop right there. I. I dunno if I've had this much to drink since the 80s."

Mara doesn't mention that she wasn't old enough to drink in the 80s. "Prolly no' a bad idea." She takes one last drink before she caps the bottle and climbs to her feet again. "See, go'a have wisdom ta be in yer positi'n, yeh?" After replacing the booze in the cupboards, she stumbles back to the living room, misjudging how wide a berth to give the couch as she rounds it. She clips her hip on the arm of the sofa and goes tumbling to the floor, sprawled out on the shag carpeting. Oof!

Heeheehee. This is basically Nathan's first reaction, but, he's a gentleman, deep down. Way deep down, when it comes to being drunk. "Are you okay?" he asks, with a smile plastered on his face. Speaking of plastered, he very cautiously gets to his feet, taking a moment before walking with careful foot steps, until he can offer the woman a hand. "As classy as this is, not sure if I can 'llow you to fall 'sleep on the floor. Even if it is y'own apartment."

"Yeah. I mean'ta do tha', i's nice down 'ere. Shag carpe' is comfy, y'know?" Oh so carefully, Mara gets to her knees before taking Nathan's hand to get to her feet. This is easier said than done.

This is far more difficult than it should be. There's a lot of delicate distribution of weight, and balance, arm strength, coordination in general, and Nathan has to concentrate very hard on not toppling down onto the woman, or falling back on his ass. But they're both standing, in the end, and he smiles proudly. Very good. Then, he seems to remember himself, and his expression sobers a little, even if he does not, and he glances at his watch. "I should prob'ly go back home now."

"Yeh…" Mara tilts her head to one side, looking at Nathan for a long moment. "I'm afrai' ta le'cha go, tho'. Yer 'ammered." She starts giggling and wobbles on her feet for a moment. "Takes one ta know one, eh?"

"Not hammered. Well a bit." Nathan shakes his head and waves that away. "No, it's fine, I'll call a cab an'…" /And/. And what does someone do after a cab is called. He should know this, and he raises a 'one moment' finger in his attempt to string together a rational sentence, before his hand drops again. "Mind if I crash here. You have a couch. I'll be very gone before you even know."

"You get the bed, I get the couch." Mara holds up a hand before he can argue. "I /insist/. My house, I outrank you." She grabs him by the arm and starts pulling him toward the other room, "C'mon. I'll just grab my jammies and then the room's all yours."

Nathan does indeed attempt a protest, but it comes out sort like a 'but… I…' before it dies away, and he's dragged rather unstoppably towards the bedroom. "Okay, okay. I can. Yes. Thank you, Mara," he says, in an attempt to be civil and non-drunk for just a few seconds. The bedsheets get a squint, but who is he to complain. Sitting down, he sets about wrestling his shoes off, and they land with thunks on the floor before he's crawling, clothed, onto the bed, obviously about to coma at any given time.

Mara reaches under the pillow to procure a man's dress shirt, a pair of lounge shorts and… a handgun. "Sweet dreams." She snatches the extra pillow off the bed and stumbles back off to the living room, shutting the door behind her.

Nathan mumbles something. Then comas.

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