2008-02-20: Two Girls, a Bed, and an Orangutan

Starring:

Trina_icon.gif McAlister_icon.gif

Summary: McAlister calls Trina out next. Trina answers. Girl time.

Date It Happened: February 20, 2008

Two Girls, a Bed, and an Orangutan


Trina's Hotel Room

A pack of cards. Ballantine's. A waste basket. Sweatpants. Tank top. Another night in an impersonal hotel room without Jack.

Trina sits crosslegged at the edge of her bed, spinning cards out across the air. The more drunk she becomes, the more entertaining this game becomes. Maybe 'drink anytime you miss' wasn't the best rule ever, or maybe it was the best rule ever. Needless to say, the bottle of scotch started out… much fuller than it is now. With the four channels on the television having proven unable to provide even marginally soothing background noise, the clock radio beside her bed has proven an acceptable white noise.

*WHUMPWHUMPWHUMP* goes the door.

This is not really a usual 'door sound' - it's not Jack's usual jaunty tapping. It's more like someone with a boot trying to make noise while wrestling with an orangutang and a pizza. That they're blonde (and doing that- and that the organgutang is stuffed and nearly as big is she is), this boot-wielding soul, is really only visible when one's taking the time to look out into the breezeway.

"Oh, come /on/. If you're in the bathroom, I swear… ACk." The pizza is nearly lost, but is rescued from doom in time.

When Trina pushes herself up from the bed, more of stumble than anything remotely graceful, the brunette offers a call to the door. After looking down and tucking the ring that dangles from her neck inside her shirt and away from view, there's an awkward, drunken fumbling for the door. It opens with the security chain still in place. "Oh, God. Ali. It's you." The door shuts again, there's an audible rattling of that same chain, and then it opens again. Wide enough to grant entry this time. "Get in here. C'mon. Hurry up. S'colder'n a witch's titty out there tonight."

"No /kidding/." Ali grins - sniffs. Winces. Grins anyway. "You and Mr. Daniels need to lay off the love affair, chica - Jack's gonna get jealous." She presents pizza. "Pepperoni and bacon." And yeah, she's heading in.

"And /this/ - " She shakes the ginormous stuffed beast. "Is Jacktwo."

"Mr. Daniels ain't itchin' my scratch, honey," Trina replies, trying to not take offense at the mixup of whisky smell. She sticks her head out the door briefly, looking out across the parking lot before shutting the door and latching it once more. She turns in time to see the stuffed animal and positively melt. Even in her drunkenness, the thin motorhead's expression softens in a clear and unapologetic expression of gratitude. "Oh, hon. You really didn't need to do that." Then she moves to take the pizza box and set it on the bed. She fetches a few bright yellow napkins, embossed with the Wendy's logo, from the dresser and sets those down on the bed, too. And then, once the big obstacles are out of the way, she moves to do the most important thing she's done all night: curl those long, slender arms of hers around McAlister and bearhug the blonde. "Gawd, it's good to see you."

Ali get s JackTwo out of the way, tossed back up on the pillows - and then oofs, as she's hugged. Of /course/ she hugs back - fierce and smiling. "Missed you. Even if you do smell like a distillery. And yes, I did - 'cause you're my friend and what the hell are you doin' in a hotel room?" Are her eyes /wet/? Nope. That's. Uh. condensation. Jersey girls don't ever get teary, and she'd deny it, yup.

"I didn't know where you /were/, you know? After the wreck. And then everything else happened, and - I've been lookin', for a while. I dunno why I didn't think about callin' you out. I'm so sorry."

"Y'ain't gotta be sorry," Trina assures with a smile. "Things… kinda got messy," Trina replies. If ever there was an understatement, that would be it. Pulling away, she folds her arms and looks mildly uncomfortable. She doesn't really know what to say. "I missed you, too. Jack never really talked about… You know. What happened while I was gettin' my beauty sleep. So, I hope you went somewhere awesome on vacation or somethin'." There's a pause and then an emphatic pull of her thumb over her shoulder. "You want me to get you a cup? Or you can drink straight from the bottle with me; ain't got cooties. Nothin' like a little scotch to chase away a Yankee winter."

"nah, I'm fine. I get drunk, I tell casting directors exactly where they can stick their couch - and they try. So. You know, better all the way around if I don't.' Ali grins, though - "All I know is running the Den solo /sucks/. I tracked him down a couple of days ago - he needs to /eat/." She sobers - "I dunno what's going on, but you know I'm here, and I'll help."

Trina's typically robust smile diminishes at talk of her secret(?) fiance, only to flare back to life as she sits down on the bed and flips open the pizza box. She's patently avoiding the subject of Jack. She leans in and takes a deep inhalation of the pie inside before grining up at the DJ. "Man, Ali. This smells awesome. I ain't really grabbed anything a couple days. How much do I owe you?"

"… since when do you owe me anything?" Ali blinks. "seriously." And then.. then the DJ takes a moment, murmering - "Eat up," as she takes a moment to /really/ take stock of the room.

She sets her jaw. Thoughtfully. And it's actually a really long moment before she asks, "So how long have you been stayin' here?"

"Ain't important," Trina mumbles back as she picks up a piece of pizza and begins to fold it up to fit in her mouth. The room's mostly clear of dirty laundry, save what's piled up in the bathroom, but the wastebasket is filled to overflowing with the evidence of numerous nights of dining in and snack consumption. She really needs to call room service on that. After leaning her head back to get that first artery-clogging bite, blue eyes are turned back on McAlister. "C'mon, sugar! Y'ain't gonna be stayin' long, right? We don't need to drag everything down with all that serious talk!" The talk that would betray how painfully bad things have gotten. How little Jack tells her now. "Tell me you went /somewhere/ fun while the Den was shut down."

Okay, well - distractions only work so far. But they work far enough — "I sort of did. I got a couple of voice acting jobs — and the radio show's been takin' off. Spent a couple of weeks in cali and learned just how good an investment sunscreen is." She grins at that. "I don't tan, I burn. Who knew?" A shrug, and Ali abruptly shoves at Trina's shoulder.

"We're friends, right? You and me? I mean - we gotta be. Jack's never once hit on me. He /knows/ I'd tell on him. But we are, right?"

Trina rolls backwards easily with the shove, perhaps going a little further than she intends to courtesy of a little too much booze. When she finally manages to rock back up to a sit, though, her gaze ducks down, looking at the pizza in her hands. Then back up. She nods a little, although the gesture is a little tight from nerves. She worries when conversations switch like that. "Yeah. Of course, we are. You wouldn't be here if you weren't." For a dozen different reasons. A bewildered little smile, a furrow of her brow, and a tilt of her head all clearly communicate her confusion. "Why… Why would you ask me that?"

"'cause one of the things friends do is they're there for each other, right?" Ali snags her own piece of pizza. "If you're willin' to give me a chance, maybe I can help out? 'cause you're not happy. Not even close to being happy." She tilts her head. "And you're not wearing a ring." A hand is vaguely waved in the direction of Trina's - "Jack may be a lot of things, but I don't figure he's asked somebody to marry him and /not/ remembered the whole 'ring' thing. Which means that - maybe I need to slug him for you?"

The DJ noms on pizza, shrugging, speaking around a mouthful. "I will. I'm meaner than he is." Riiiight. "And if it's something else? I can help - just give me a chance?"
GAME: Save complete.

Trina sets down her half-eaten slice on the pizza box lid, heaving a sigh as the last of her facade melts away. "He… He got me a ring. He just told me to wait on wearin' it on my finger, s'all." She tugs at the chain on her neck, and eventually the glittering piece of jewelry pops out from behind her dark tank top. All shiny emerald set in a shiny claddagh with little diamonds set about it. There's a nervous smile as Trina shrugs, looking down at the ring and fiddling with it anxiously. Eventually, she leans forward and holds it out to McAlister to see it properly and smiling tentatively. "He did good, didn't he? You're the first one to see it."

Then her smile falters as she continues quietly, dropping her gaze to the ring anew. "Things are such a mess, Al."

Ali looks at it - unashamedly reaching out to turn it so the light shines on the diamonds. "It's.. gorgeous." Her eyes come up, searching, thoughtful, studying Trina's face. And, she.. well. Nods. Reaching up, she moves to (with clumsy fingers) find the clasp on that chain. "So howsabout you and me see about fixing it? I dunno about you, but I'm sort of tired of sitting on the sidelines and waitin' on good stuff to happen. I get really tired of rain."

Trina would help, but she would be no help with her own drunken fingers. She does, however, keep pretty still to help McAlister study the shiny piece of metal. "I don't know how to fix this. And Jack doesn't want me near him." A pause. "It. Whatever." Not to mention, she's tried to intervene before. To say that it went well would be a painfully grandiose lie. She can't help feeling that it's part of the reason that she ended up here, isolated from just about everything she knew. She presses her lips together into a thin line.

Ali unclasps the chain, letting the ring fall off of it into her hand. "So maybe I don't either - and maybe Jack is being stupid. He does that, ya know." She reaches for Trina's left hand - and unless the woman does something like not let her? Ali pushes that ring, carefully, onto the finger where it belongs. "You love him, right? I saw him, Trina. He looks rough." She shrugs, "I figure he needs you. And I figure you're kinda tired of hiding. So what's say you don't anymore, and we go figure out just how deep the stupid goes?" She glances up. "Up to you."

Trina wants nothing more than to let McAlister slip that ring onto her finger. To finally allow her finger stop aching for the twisty tie that sat upon it once — the one that's presumably in a landfill somewhere after she left it behind. Gently, Trina pulls her hand back, balling it into a half-formed fist. "Jack asked me to wait, Ali." Her face only becomes more contorted as she turns it back up to look at the DJ, shaking her head. "I… I know he's bad off. He's come around a couple times. But he…" He what? "He…" Nevermind. This talking thing is failing. Ballantine's? Not her friend right now. And maybe it's the scotch that prompts her to just fall forward onto her friend's knee and just start sobbing there, fingers digging into whatever happens to be clothing poor Ali's legs.

Blue jeans. Ali doesn't mind - she hugs, as best she can. "S'okay. I'm here." So the DJ has a soft heart - that's obvious enough. When hugging isn't quite right, she just strokes the other woman's hair, letting her cry.

A few moments later, with a faintly self-depricating smile. Well. She sighs, and simply. Sings? Yup. It's light, it's easy - just a soothing, lilting thing. The words aren't important (but it's /folk music/. Gah.) - but she puts her heart in them anyway. Courage and comfort and friendship - nearly as tangible as the jeans Trina's hanging on to.

And she's got a good voice! Who knew.

Now that she's already started bawling like a stupid kitten on McAlister's leg, Trina's pride crumbles with her resolve. While normally there would be jokes or teasing for singing to her like she was an upset toddler, there is nothing of the kind. She's been stuck in here for nearly two weeks. And before that she was in her car. And before that there was Hell. She listens, quiet and soaking in McAlister's warmth like a sponge as the sobbing begins to ebb off. "I missed you, girl," she finally drawls out after the impromptu performance is over, but not lifting her head. Instead, she just continues to lay there, contorted around the box of pizza that previously laid between them. "Like the dickens."

"Missed you too." Ali murmers - "It's all gonna be alright, you know that, right? I promise. Even if it means I have to sit Jack down and explain things to him. At length. It'll work out."

Trina chews on her lip, the sign of nerves hidden by the curtain of black hair that covers her face. After a few unceremonious sniffs, she continues speaking with her voice very, very quiet as she issues an important, grave warning: "Al. You see Jack, you be careful. He… He ain't always himself."

"I did, a couple of days ago." Ali shrugs - then.. with a bit of hunting for the right words, says - "He looked good. Skinny, beat to hell, but good." She still pets absently at Trina's hair, perhaps unthinking. "Trina? I.. really wouldn't let him hurt me. I don't think he could, unless I wasn't paying attention. So - don't worry, huh?"

She tries out a smile. "… wanna tell me what's going on with him? He's not eating, I know."

Trina remains still beneath McAlister's gentle hand, eyes closing contentedly and trying to stay calm. It's not a sensation she's accustomed to, women have a different way of doing it. When she tries to talk, however, the tears start welling up all over again. How do you tell someone that the man you love is a hopeless addict? How bad things got? How bad they are? And that you're still so hopelessly in love with him that it hurts? More importantly, how do you do that without becoming a traitor to his trust?

For someone who struggles to match feelings to words in the English language, it is even more difficult. "He's sick," she finally tries.

"I know some people - a lot of really good people, T." Ali reaches up with her free hand to squeeze Trina's. "If I can't help him, maybe one of them can. There's nothin' wrong with that. There's nothin' wrong with you." She tilts her head - "How come you're not at your place? Did.. " Ohgod. She actually pales, slightly. "You aren't hidin' from him, are you?"

Trina actually sits up to look squarely at McAlister at that, shaking her head with eyes wide open and frantically trying to wordlessly backpeddle. Don't think badly of him, Ali. Please. "No. No. S'not like that." She closes her eyes and presses forward. "I'd go home, but Jack said it was safer for me here. He won't tell me anything else." A shake in her voice. The scrunching up of her features. And then the motorhead rolls forward to settle her forehead against the pretty blonde girl's knee anew as she starts to feel the tears staging another assault upon her composure. "I just wanna go home, Ali. I wanna go back to the way things were."

"So let's go home, huh?" Ali goes back to that soothing petting, worried - relaxing. "T - he saved my life. I'd do anything for him.." Abruptly, she teases - or tries to. It's an attempt. "Except anything /naked/." But.. more seriously - "I would, though. So would you, I'm bettin'. I think you're braver than I am - do you really want to be safe? I don't figure you for the 'safe' sort."

Trina's quiet for a long time, save the occasional sniffle. "I don't know what I am anymore, Ali. I thought I used to know." But McAlister's right, and somewhere deep down, Mah knows it. She's been running like a frightened animal for months. From one hell to another for months. She used to be better than this, didn't she? She swallows, hard. "When did you go and get all insightful on me, anyway? They teach you that crap in California?"

"Oh, Christ, Trina — don't go putting that on me." Ali rolls her eyes, laughs, and then flops over on the bed to basically lay on Trina. Grinning. Like a loon. "Being wise sucks. You never get to do anything fun, you know? I guess… I guess I'd rather do stuff than be scared, though, these days. When I met you and Jack? You have no idea — I was so terrified about everything. Now? I guess not so much." She peers up at the ceiling. "I guess I'm starting to get how Superman feels."

"Half the world's just runnin' scared," Trina offers unhelpfully, curling happily underneath McAlister's slight weight and yawning a little. Company's doing wonders for making her feel just a little more comfortable, and with it comes the exhaustion of sleepless nights. And even just that half-piece of pizza is starting to tempt her into a food coma. "Makes people act crazy."

"Yup." Ali shifts to prop her head up on an arm, to peer at Trina. "So, tomorrow. We're goin' shopping, right?" She pauses. "I can't take you home - I kinda used up my 'couch credit' with Erin. But I can make sure you're not just sitting in here alone and drinking." Her free hand pokes the other woman's side, vaguely. "No more of that, woman, or I'm gonna steal your scotch. You /share/ good scotch. You don't just drink it like water. Hmph. Heathen." She grins, then. "Anyway — you still got your apartment, wherever it is? I have a key to the Den, if nothing else. Jack never took it back."

"Lost the apartment. I… I moved in with Jack after the accident. And supposedly the place is still beyond wrecked." Trina shifts lazily, curling her body just enough to evade poking fingers. Two girls, a bed, and an orangutan. It just sounds wrong, doesn't it? Trina maneuvres one of her knees to shut the pizza box. "Also? Not a heathen. You make it sound like I'm drinking lite beer or something."

"Hey. College? All I could afford was the Blue Ribbon, T - don't even start with cheap beer." Ali grins. "So we go shopping, then we go clean. Sounds like a day to me, huh? howabout you get some sleep, though? Tomorrow's a new day. You.. want me to stick around?" She shrugs - "I will. You got chairs. Chairs are comfy."

Trina holds out her hand, palm up and expectant. She'll take that ring back now. She may not get to wear it on her finger, but its still hers. "As long as you don't kick in your sleep, there's plenty of room here on the bed and I can get you somethin' comfy to sleep in." Since every stick of clothing she owns is here, that makes it convenient. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman." A pause. "So long as you really don't mind stayin'. I'll be okay if you wanna go home, you know."

"I don't. Mind, anyway." Ali does yawn, though. "First time i've slept with the sun down in forever." With a groan, she shifts. Stands - hands back the ring, of course. "I still think you should put it on. You said yes, right?"

Fumbling for the chain, Trina carefully threads the chain through the ring once more and moves to set it around her neck. "I did," she agrees through another yawn. Lazily, she picks up the pizza box and… kinda just tosses it a small distance away from the bed. "But he asked me to wait. It'll mean more if he puts it where it's supposed to be, anyway." Ring about her neck. Bed clear. With a last ditch hurl of her body, the dark haired girl manages to get herself to the place on her pillows where Jacktwo is waiting in his furry orange glory and curls around him. Tomorrow. New day. No more running scared.

Blink. Blink.

Zzzz.

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