2009-11-05: This Never Happened

Starring:

Jade_V4icon.pngRandall_V4icon.png

Date: November 5, 2009

Summary:

Everything comes tumbling down.


"This Never Happened"

Randall's apartment

It took a little longer for Lena's cloud o' ecstasy to work its mojo on Randall - he was on his way up to the VIP room when it got started, and then for a while Mitsy was working on him instead - but he was affected, nonetheless. For one thing, while Hallis ditched him before he ditched her, he wouldn't normally have taken Mitsy up on her offer quite so easily. And then he got another dose of it on his way out of the club, and there was Jade, whom he'd dragged out there in the first place and then basically left on her own…

His apartment isn't that large, the main room dominated by a couch with a couple blankets on it to hide a God-awful disco-era cloth pattern. And some photos and pencil sketches hanging from the ceiling, paper-clipped to strands of yarn. Off in one corner is a half-finished abstract clay sculpture, a C shape with a straight line sticking out near the top.

With dawn a good two hours away, the room is all but pitch black, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights and neon off in the distance.

The first thing she became of aware of was that it was kind of chilly, cool air flitting about the apartment kissing bare skin and making her wonder where the hell her blanket was. With a sleepy murmur, the teen reaches out a hand to find her sheets, only to have her hand impact something hard, a bedpost her groggy mind figured. But there was one thought nagging at the back of her mind.

When the hell had her bed become so hard!?

As her eyes blink open, taking in the alien look of the room around her, Jade had to wonder just where the hell she was, and what she was doing on the floor lying on her stomach near a couple of table legs. She tries to life her head, but only manages to bang it painfully against the bottom of the coffee table with a sharp *TWACK* and an audible groan of pain. Rubbing at the sore spot on the back of her head, the Cali-born teenager climbs out from under the table, painfully aware of the fact that her upper body was sans clothing, and most of her lower body, as well. Looking down at her legs as she sits up, she finds her pants, still attached by one leg.

"…Idiot."

Sticking her sock-clad foot into the leg of her jeans, she pulls them up to her waist, fastens the button, then pulls herself up via the coffee table to see just what manner of loser she'd managed to shack up with today. What she sees makes her recoil in horror, finding none other than her own damned newly-acquired boss. In a panic, she lets out a squeal of dismay, memories of the night before rushing back, realization of the mentally-altered state crashing down, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the cry.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Whisper-shouting curses at herself, Jade crosses her arms over her chest and begins searching frantically for her shirt.

The unmistakable sound of muscle tissue impacting wood is enough to rouse Randall into consciousness. Awareness is a trickier matter; having been hit by last night's euphoria a little late, it's also remained in his system a little longer. Cold, he thinks to himself, echoing Jade's thoughts. Must have forgotten to switch the thermostat. Damn broken timer. He's already worked out roughly where he is and when he is - but then what was that noise? It merits investigating.

He attempts to sit up, only to send himself tumbling down onto the floor next - he would have landed right on top of her, if she hadn't moved out of the way already. As it is, he blinks twice, finding his vision even more useless than it was a second ago.

"Why's there silk on my face?" he asks out loud, deciding that if he's being robbed then he's in no position to do anything useful about it anyway. "And why can't I feel my legs?"

The sound of a heavy body tumbling to the floor prompts the panicky teenager to look in that direction, spotting the stirring Randall as he makes his impromptu voyage into consciousness. So much for sneaking out and hoping his memory would inexplicably omit everything from that night! But then, the sight of his naked backside gives rise to the primal urge of the dark-haired girl's sniping sarcasm.

"That can't be good for anyone."

Darting a hand out, she unhooks the sheet from the couch and tosses it over his prone form to cover his modesty, and thus protect her eyes. As she snatched up the first shirt she could find, which certainly wasn't hers, yanking it on, she could only hope the silk of which he spoke wasn't him landing face-first in her unmentionables. With her own nudity eliminated by virtue of her pants and his shirt, Jade places her hands on her hip, cocking a leg as she considers her options: Run out the door, or face the music. Finally, with a hand over her face, she lets out a sigh.

"Probably because somebody was sleeping on them wrong!"

No, it has buttons along one side, so it must be her shirt instead. Pulling it out of the way, he reaches for the sheet instead and draws it around his waist. By this point, he's more or less worked out what happened last night after they got through the door, in fact the first fragments of sense memory are starting to come back through the haze.

"I don't think it was me."

How he feels about these newfound bits of knowledge? That, he hasn't worked out yet. Give him a few more minutes…

Folding her arms under her chest, the tan-skinned teenager watches her employer begin to come around to a state of better awareness, standing there awkwardly, doing her best impression of a child caught lying to a parent as she seemed to look everywhere /but/ at him.

"I'll just pretend you didn't call me fat so I don't have to get fired for knocking you back out."

She quirks her lips to the side, daring a glance back at the older male, but having to look quickly away as her cheeks started heating. Unfortunately for her, the drug she had been subjected to did precious little to forestall her memories of the previous night, and many of them were crystal clear, even if seen through a horrifyingly euphoric lens. Scratching lightly at the back of her neck, she thrusts a hand out expectantly without really looking.

"I, uh, think someone, you know, slipped something. Can I have my shirt back?"

The defensive behaviors come back so easily in times of stress. "I wasn't! It doesn't take much if you land on a pressure point." With that said, Randall reaches over again - wincing as the feeling in his legs starts to return, a thousand little pins against his skin with angels dancing on the heads - and picks up the presumed shirt, balling it up before throwing it to his—

What hits him at this point is that, if she decides she's annoyed enough? He could easily be looking at 5 to 25 in federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison. Don't worry, Jade, your job is quite safe if you really want it to be.

Failing that, well, they still have to figure out how to deal with each other. "Are— are you okay?" he finally manages.

The dark-haired teenager catches the shirt at about the same time it hits her in the face, holding it out by the collar and wondering if she should bother putting it on. She'd have to leave the room to do so, as she doubted it would fit very comfortably over Randall's over-sized shirt she was currently drowning in. But his words bring her pause as she starts to turn away, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes looking him down, then back up.

"Relax, you weren't /that/ big."

Tossing her hair with a slightly-haughty flick of her head, she turns back towards the door she assumed to be the bathroom, grabbing the handle, twisting, and throwing it open. Just before she disappears inside, she decides her casually mean sarcasm could use a little more bite to it, calling back to the male a mere second before the door clicks shut.

"In fact, barely felt a thing!"

Once inside the physical and psychological safety of the bathroom, she leans over the stink, staring at her reflection. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…" Tugging at the collar of the overly-large shirt, she begins to check herself for evidence she might be forced to hide, most notably for marks about her neck and shoulders.

So, so not what he meant. Roofies or no, that was really unnecessarily mean. Maybe he will fire her, after all. Or at least seriously think about it for a minute.

With the remainder of the apartment briefly his sole domain once again, he staggers to his feet, turning on the nearest lamp and wandering around to collect his clothes and pull them back on. His shirt is nowhere to be found, so he grabs another one before flopping back down on the couch. And thinks. No, seriously, how does he feel about her at this point? The last relationship he was in could hardly have been more different, but that's not really either better or worse.

The raven-haired teenager shucks the shirt off of her head, trying to smooth down her hair for a moment before picking up her shirt. As she buttons it, she brushes her hair back from her shoulders to expose more of her neck and give her a better view. Much to her relief, there were no awkward marks to have to explain, and she searches for a few moments before locating a comb, running it through her strands of dark hair. It gave her time to calm down, time to THINK. She was pretty sure she could sit in the bathroom the rest of the night and still not have thought enough.

Finally, the door opens and the dark-haired girl emerges from the bathroom with the clothes she began the night with on, and her temporarily-pilfered shirt in hand. She tosses it towards the man on the couch.

"Here, might wanna wash it. Smells like my shampoo now. So… Um…" She makes a vague gesture in the air with one of her hands, trying to look casual as she leans against the doorframe. "You probably don't me crashing here, so you in any condition to give me a ride home?"

Lost in thought himself, Randall doesn't so much as look up, the returned shirt falling on top of his head. That's the second time that's happened tonight. And now it smells like his shampoo as well.

"Not really," he replies, legs still giving him a hard time. "I—" He still doesn't have a coherent answer for those questions rattling through his head. "You… you don't have to go." There, that should be safe enough.

One of the teenaged girl's eyebrows archs towards her hairline at the last statement, though she focuses on the first one at the beginning. With a sigh, she looks around the living room casually, trying to see if she could spot her wallet lying anywhere within sight. With her luck, it had probably rolled under that damnable, damnable couch.

"Make a girl catch a cab, huh? Chivalrous."

Slowly, she moves towards the sofa, one step at a time, hestitantly, until she's finally standing next to the triple-cushioned make-shift bed for two. She looks away and closes her eyes at the mental images just touching it evoked, perching a hip on the arm of the furniture piece, crossing her arms across her trunk. She tosses a profiled look over her shoulder.

"What're we gonna do if I stay? If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, I better get dinner this time, first. You don't want to do anything, like, uh, talk about it, do you? I don't think we need to talk about it. We've both done it before, we'll both do it again, and we can just agree not to look each other in the eye ever again."

Randall shakes his head. "No, I— I can give you a ride later. When my feet start feeling normal again."

Looking up at long last, he stares at Jade as if she'd just turned into a mermaid. He wasn't thinking of bedding her again. Hell, he doesn't think he could bed her again right now. But he does still have his pride, even as he turns and flops back onto the couch, staring up at a blank patch of ceiling. "Was it really that bad?"

"Geez, I'm not that bony! Just how hard could I pinched your leg nerves!?"

She turns a bit more to face her employer as he throws himself backwards onto the couch, nursing his wounded pride like a teenaged boy. It makes her laugh at his expense, and she certainly doesn't do very much to cover it up, beyond placing a hand lightly in front of her mouth, rolling her eyes.

"What are you, fourteen? Need someone to rub a balm on your male ego? Ehhh… Ugh. Look, I didn't complain while it was happening, okay, isn't that enough!?"

Agitatedly, Jade pushes off the arm of the chair, stalking behind the couch and beginning to pace behind it, her hands jammed into her back pockets as she rolls her shoulders to relieve some of the strain of having slept partially on the floor. With a grown, she throws herself on the back of the sofa, resting her forarms above as she looks down at her host.

"Look, it's just… weird, okay! You're my boss. You've seen my… My…" At a loss for words, or merely unwilling to say them, she simply gestures down at her body. "I mean… It was… But… You know what I'm sayin'?"

To be fair, it mostly wasn't her fault, it was the couch's fault more than anything else. He really should at least get the cushions replaced. Or washed.

"I know what you're saying," he murmurs. More accurately, he knows what she's not saying, what neither of them wants to deal with saying. "So— yeah, we don't talk about it. If anything happens later, then it happens." Not that it seems all that likely right now.

"Bed's down the hall," he adds, waving an arm in that general direction, "you can crash a couple more hours if you want. I think I'm going to."

"Okay, Romeo, but I'm locking the do-"

The teenaged employee begins to turn away in the direction of the pointing arm, pauses, for a moment with her hand still on the couch, then continues again. Her feet take her as far as the end of the sofa, whereupon she stops again, blinking once, her brow scrunching up in mild confusion abover her nose. She half-turns back, an eyebrow raised, a smug smirk tugging at one side of her mouth.

"'If anything happens later'? I think the head upstairs isn't the one doing the thinking anymore." She narrows her eyes as her smile turns borderline malicious. "Just because you liked the goods doesn't mean their up for sale." She turns on her heel, pirouetting towards the short hall that led to the bedroom, her hair whirling behind her. "We'll see!"

And with that, there's the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut once again, followed by a few running footsteps and then the sound of mattress springs under duress, much as if someone had just leaped upon them.

And that wasn't what Randall was thinking, either, having taken 'buy me dinner first' entirely seriously.

But he's thinking about it now. Thank you so much, Jade.

Running his fingers through his hair in several types of frustration at once, he turns over onto his side, burying his face into the back of the couch as he tries to drift off once again. Maybe he can make himself forget the whole thing through sheer willpower.

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