2007-04-01: Regrettable


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A distraught Eliana shows up at Lachlan's apartment to dump on him. He offers the best comfort he can think of: scotch and drinking songs. It ends with one big fat regret in the morning.

Date It Happened:

April 1st, 2007


Lachlan's Apartment, Brooklyn

Wandering around New York City at night when you're upset isn't too terribly odd. At least, Eliana has company. She takes enough time to think, at least, and after calling the superintendent for her apartment building in order to get the locks changed ASAP (yes, she'll pay the fifty dollar fee, grumblegrumble), Eliana starts to walk to Lachlan's place. By the time she gets there, it's obvious she's been crying, and whatever energy had been fueling her heart to keep the cloud of happygas around her is spent. She knocks on the door. No, Eli didn't even bother calling first. He'd just better be home. With Cass. Cass being home too would be awesome.

Oh, Lachlan's home, all right. Home with a guitar and no shirt and no pants. Today is a Boxers Day. These ones are dark purple. He's strumming along singing something that sounds Celtic. However, Cass is not with him — just Goblin and Troll, two miniature pinschers that he's training for a day more or so. The knock at the door catches him by surprise and he stops to peer at the door inquisitively. Who's that? Not bothering to put anything on, he sets aside guitar and rises from the couch to peek through the peephole. Pink hair! Who has been crying. The deadbolt and lock are undone and Lachlan draws the door open as far as the chain will allow. His surprise is quite evident. "Wha's wrong?"

Across the threshold, Eliana looks absolutely dreadful. Her reddened cheeks are streaked with tears, and her previously styled hair looks as though she's run her hands through it either too much or too wildly. Lachlan being in boxers doesn't even get noticed. Eli's bottom lip trembles as she starts to talk, but all she gets out is something about "Jack" before she starts to sob and effectively stumbles into the apartment and against the Scotsman.

Blink. Lachlan's eyes go wide and he just stands there for a few moments, blinking in a mixture of shock and then unease. Uh. Boxers. Woman. Boxers. Still, he's not /heartless/ and he slowly brings his arms up to wrap them around Eliana in a comforting (if not awkward) fashion as he nudges the door closed with his heel. "Fuck, yer a mess," he utters. "C'mon, ye wanna sit? Lemme … get ye somethin'." He attempts to guide her toward the couch.

It's more than boxers, but Eliana's sundress, designed either for a sunny day in the country or a spring night in a club, is clingy and thin. She doesn't protest when she's lead to the couch, but rather than stay seated, Eli lies down on her side, curling her legs a bit and clutching her hands to her chest.

Goblin and Troll make way on the couch for the newcomer, and Lachlan bounces forward ahead of Eliana a step to remove the guitar to give her room. The guitar is then propped up against the end table and, once Eliana is lying down, Lachlan stands there like a lump for a moment before he makes a few vague gestures toward the kitchen. "Uh … yeah. Uh. Wanna drink? Lemme get ye a drink." If she doesn't need it /he/ sure does. Off he goes to retrieve the handy bottle of Glen Moray and a couple of glasses. No ice, because nobody drinks scotch on the rocks, right? Right. He's soon returned and sets glasses and bottle on the end table. Perching on the arm of the couch, he starts to pour. "Wha' was tha' 'bout Jack? He a'righ'?"

Eliana turns her head to rest her chin on the couch, and her chest shudders as she tries to catch her breath. "He's fucking /fine,/" she gets out before she has to stop and swallow. Dammit. Dammit all to /hell./ "He… he wanted me to meet him, right? But…but when I got there…?"

Oh. Jack's not mangled and lying in a gutter somewhere. So this must be Some Other Problem. Lachlan passes one of the glasses over to Eliana, then takes up the other and downs half it in one gulp. "Yeah?"

Booze. Oh, nectar of the gods. Eliana sits up and takes the glass, welcoming the liquid comfort. "Yeah," she says before she takes a sip of the scotch like a pro. There is some whiskey-face, though, and Eli wipes her mouth with her forearm. "He had… there was…this other…she'd spilled her drink on me awhile back in the Den. Wanted to pay for it." Another drink. "But /I/ felt bad and splurged on the credit card to pick it up and apologized to Jack for being horrible, and I /thought/ everything was okay again, but he…he…" Eliana finishes the drink and lets her hand fall to her side, and she looks at Lachlan with feminine disparity. "/Why/ would he have wanted to meet me if… if… he must have /wanted/ me to know. God, how…" but Eliana can't even think of a word to describe how horrible she feels, and she slumps back against the back cushion of the couch with a sob-laced sigh.

Uh. Lachlan is silent and simply stares blankly for a few seconds before he reaches forward with the bottle to refill Eliana's glass. "Mebbe he though' the girl'd be gone by the time ye got there." Now the Scotsman is /assuming/ that Eliana saw something very bad, like Jack in the sack with another girl. Then again, it's always the nature of one to assume the worst in such situations.

Eliana's eyes widen for a moment as she stares at Lachlan in disbelief. Then, with a scowl, she thursts the glass forward to splash the scotch in his face. It doesn't matter at all to her what kind it is. "How does that make it any fucking better!?" she shouts, shaking her head as her heart rate climbs.

SPWUFF. Lachlan's got a faceful of scotch, and /not/ in the good way. He blinks and splutters a bit as he rises reflexively to his feet, hunching over slightly so that he drips onto the carpet rather than himself. He's shocked for several seconds, but this quickly turns into contempt. "Bloody— !" He slams his glass down on the end table and goes storming into the kitchen for a towel. "Can see /why/ Jack's fuckin' 'round with other girls!" he bellows from the other room.

These just /aren't/ things you say to a grieving girlfriend. Eliana howls as she turns on the couch to throw the glass after Lachlan, but rather than crash and break, it lands with a loud THUNK and rolls after him. But Eliana doesn't stay to watch it. Instead, she sinks back onto the couch to bury her face in the crack between the bottom and back cushions, sobbing freely.

The Scotsman has never been known for tact. He was probably busy when God was handing that particular trait out. Still, Lachlan isn't /entirely/ heartless. When there's the sound of sobbing after the thunk and rumble of the glass, he feels his heart drop down into his feet. Damn it. He slinks back into the living room with the towel thrown over his shoulder and a freshly dried face. There he stands a moment, frowning, before he creeps over to the couch and sits down near Eliana's feet, extending a hand to rest on her back. "Hey," he murmurs quietly. "'M sorry."

The touch is nice, though Eliana would never admit it. Still, her breathing steadies, and slowly, the sobs taper off into sniffles. "You should be," she murmurs, her voice muffled by the couch. "'N he should be. I mean," and breathing in, Eliana pulls her face out of the crevice. "Who the hell breaks up with someone like that? Is that just an Irish thing? Or a Bastard thing?"

Fortunately, Lachlan's too dense to pick up on any malice in that question. What, does Eliana expect him to know what Bastards are like because he /is/ one? Pfsh. He's got the insight of an amoeba. The Scotsman shrugs a bit, at a loss. "Dunno." He never really figured Jack for that sort, the way he was preaching about picking one lady and all that. But, well, if Eliana caught him with another woman, there's hardly any doubt, is there? Huh. Now he feels a bit contemptuous towards the Irishman. Bastard, making Lachlan feel horrid for his little affair and then pulling something like this.

She stays there a moment, propped up by one forearm before she lets herself fall onto her side like a ragdoll. Lachlan's couch has just been claimed. "Some help you are," Eliana sputters.

Well. Lachlan frowns more and withdraws his hand to sit back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm no' a bloody advice column," he sighs, half-closing his eyes. "Wha' is it ye want me ta say? 'M sorry Jack's fuckin' another girl. Tha's no' righ', wha' he did ta ye." He means /that/, at least. It's not just something he's saying.

It's not as if Eliana and Jack ever specifically stated that they were going to see each other exclusively, but it's not hard to tell when such things are implied. "It'suh start," Eliana says with a sniff, curling her legs a bit more to give Lachlan more room. Here she is, ladies and gentlemen, curled in the fetal position between two very well behaved dogs and a mostly naked Scotsman. "I can't trust him. I can't…and he…Lachlan, he knew before you did. He…he was the first person I /told./" Serious breach, that.

It's not that Lachlan isn't /trying/ to be sympathetic — he's just not very /good/ at it. He can't see the correlation between knowing information about Eliana's powers and rumpling the sheets with another girl. His brow wrinkles as he tries to put two and two together, but it's just not happening. So he tries something else: "'M sorry." Hey, it worked before. As an afterthought, he picks up the half-full (half-empty?) glass of scotch he left on the table and holds it out toward the woman. More drink?

Yes drink. But only if Eliana can have it without having to move much. At all. Why didn't she go see Oliver? Oliver would have been able to talk to her and make her feel better…and would come up with all sorts of nasty things to call Jack. Eli holds the glass by her face and tries to drink, but ends up having to sit up in order to slowly drain the scotch. It doesn't matter how contorted her face gets afterward. "…sorry I threw the other one at you," she mumbles, her eyes downcast. "…twice."

Huh. That's not something Lachlan was expecting. Nobody usually apologizes to him (because he /usually/ deserves whatever he gets), so this is somewhat new. It's nice. He grins broadly, shrugs again, and reaches for the bottle nearby to offer another refill. "Nah, s'a'righ'. 'S allus better ta drink scotch'n it is ta wear it, though, just ta let ye know." He pauses, looks to the guitar, then to Eliana, then back again. The instrument is picked up. "Yanno wha's the best way ta get outta a slump? Drinkin' songs."

Eliana takes the refill with a faint smile, and by the time Lachlan has the guitar in his hands, the glass is already on it's way back down from her lips. "I don't know many," she warns, but it's clear she's up for something - anything - to take her mind off of Jack and the clumsy Israeli strumpet.

"Then I'll teach ye! C'mon, we'll start with an easy one." Lachlan is totally cool with that idea. He /likes/ showing off. He starts jamming out an upbeat tune — one might recognize it as Scotland the Brave. It's not /really/ much of a drinking song, but it's fun to sing. Which he starts to do without care: "Hark when the night is fallin', hear, hear the pipes are callin', loudly and proudly callin' down thro' the glen. There where the hills are sleepin', now feel the blood a-leapin', high as the spirits of the old Highland men."

Eliana actually chuckles as Lachlan starts to sing, then shakes her head. She /knows/ this one. And therfore, she's able to sing along, if softly. It's a hard song to slip sips of scotch into, so Eli ends up falling out of a few lyrics in order to keep her pipes wet.

There are a few times between verses that Lachlan strums out a musical interlude in order to let Eliana get in a sip or two, but he also pauses to take a swig from the bottle or refill a glass, or to tell the woman she's not /singing/ loud enough, this is a /drinking song/, she should be /belting/. It's not fun otherwise!

With a roll of her eyes, Eliana sings louder. Verse after repeated verse. But it's still not very loud, and given the fact that she has only had the bits and pieces she was able to snag at work to eat since lunch, the alcohol is taking its toll. "Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame. High may your proud …" drink! "…standards gloriously wave! Land of my high endeavour, land of the shining rivers, land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave."

Eliana is clearly /weak/. She is /not singing loud enough/. Once he's ended the song, Lachlan brandishes the quickly emptying bottle towards her with the intent of filling her glass again. Having stolen quite a few hearty gulps himself, he's teetering between 'tipsy' and 'drunk', so his movements are not entirely steady, but he's not reached the point of being too drunk to stand. "Yer no' singin' loud enough!" he chides brightly. "Ye've obviously no' got enough scotch in ye."

There is some extra care that is immediately called for so that Eliana doesn't either choke on or spit out her drink when Lachlan says that. As it is, the scotch that is in her is making for some very bleary judgment. What did he say? "Well," Eli says with a crooked smile as she accepts more of the amber liquid and subsequently lowers the level significantly. She can't even feel it go down like fire any more, so fast is the hill of drunkenness the lightweight tumbles down. "How much more d'ya got, /laddie?/"

If his statement was misconstrued, Lachlan doesn't catch it. He meant it in the most innocent way imaginable! Another swig from the bottle, and wowwwww is he feeling good. "'Ve got more'n enough ta lay ye out," he brags quite readily, once again meaning no innuendo. Then again, he and Eliana have never really been on the same wavelength.

"Do y'now?" Eliana says with a careful tilt of her head, which doesn't end up being all that careful at all. She looks woozy for a second, but as she's also trying to scoot closer to the Scotsman (who sounds enough like Jack for it to be a familiar comfort), Eliana ends up slumped against him. Fwump. Haaaa. It's very funny, and Eliana doesn't hesitate to express such. "I think y'should prove it. I'm…I'm not easy, y'know."

Fwump. There's an Eliana slumped up against him. And … he's wearing hardly nothing. There's skin-to-skin contact. That's the first red flag in Lachlan's brain. The second red flag is that there's drunkenness on both sides, they're both attractive people, and they're not trying to kill each other, and he /promised/ Cass he wasn't doing this sort of thing anymore. The third red flag doesn't get a chance to rise, because that's when the gas-emitting Eliana's powers start to affect him. Mixed with the scotch and an already really bad track record when it comes to pretty women, it's a mighty powerful cocktail, and poor Lachlan doesn't stand a chance. One kiss is all it takes. Maybe it's a familiar, if not brief comfort, but it's likely that both parties are going to wind up regretting their actions once the substances wear off.

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